Читать книгу To Slight the Jacket Blue - Bronwyn Sciance - Страница 9

"Ship ahoy!"

Ned looked up at the crow's nest. "Where away?" he yelled, shielding his eyes with his hand.

The lookout pointed. "Two points east, sir, and it looks like a black flag!"

Ned was instantly on the alert. Since leaving Portsmouth they had been fortunate enough to capture a half-dozen crews, all small-time but nevertheless a scourge on the seas and well worth the capture. They were now heading home, but another prize couldn't hurt.

"What device?" he asked the lookout.

"Can't see, sir, the wind's not caught her."

Ned hesitated, then shouted to the steersman, "Due east, hard a-port!"

"Aye, sir, hard a-port!"

As they sailed closer, Ned balled his hand into a fist. Not a red flag by any means–and therefore not Moody–but as far as Ned was concerned, a pirate was a pirate and they could all pay for Sam's murder.

And the only good pirate was a dead one.

The crew armed themselves for battle as the HMS Danae sailed closer. The first mate struck the colours, and the other ship instantly turned...towards the vessel. Ned frowned in confusion. It was the usual custom of these accursed wavescum to try to elude him. In this they normally failed; no naval vessel was faster than the Danae, especially under Ned's command. Maybe his reputation preceded him.

Good.

"Commander Sharpe, sir!"

The lookout was pointing urgently at the ship now racing towards them. At first Ned couldn't see why...but then another gust of wind caught the flag, and the whole crew could see the device: a white skull, crossed swords beneath, red chains looping through the skull's mouth.

"It's Bluejacket! Captain Bluejacket!" screamed the first mate. "What do we do, sir?"

Ned took a deep breath and kept his gaze fixed on the approaching ship. "What do we do?" he repeated calmly. "Gentlemen, we fight."