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Ned Barnes, ship boy

Date:9-th February 1719
Place: – aboard HMS “Rose” on its way to Jamaica

It didn’t matter that he was in the Navy and proud of it, Ned was still, secretly or less secretly, fascinated by pirates. He would have listened for whole days stories with seafaring adventures, with the Brethren of the Coast and the others, and their encounters with the Spanish treasure ships. Much like his older friend Martin, too.

When Ned learnt that they were transporting pirates from Nassau to Kingston, where they would stand trial, he knew he would see them closer. There were six of them, crowded in the brig. Two were in their early twenties, one in his late fourties, and the other three around thirty – it seemed the first mate and quartermaster around them, as the captain had been killed in fight. One of the younger ones was a quadroon with an impossible accent, that he couldn’t understand at all, and the oldest one was rather fearsome.

Their weapons and other belongings had been taken by the privateers who had captured them. The marines were guarding them attentively, but he was the cook’s help, and therefore the one in charge to bring them food. Nobody wanted them to really starve, the hangman should have where to put the noose…

So Ned was bringing them the meager ration of food, like always. The marines knew him and liked him. He lingered around them when he had nothing else to do, so that he could hear more about the pirates.

This evening, however, proved to be different. They were close to Jamaica, tomorrow they would be at anchor, and the pirates in the fort cells. When he came with the food, one of the pirates caught him, covered quickly his mouth not to scream, twisted his arm at his back and searched for his working knife. He tried to escape that damn grip, but in vain, and it wasn’t difficult for the pirate to find what he was searching for. Soon the poor boy had it at his neck. They were quiet and quick, and when Ned was supposed to get out… surprise, all six of them were behind him, who was kept as a human shield. The two marines at the door received a knock-down blow each, but the noise of the bodies falling on the deck alerted the other Navy men.

Big eyes full of tears of pain, Ned was helpless in the pirate’s hands.

This post has been written by ELENA

FERGUS MACMILLAN, able seaman

Fergus MacMillan set his well-thumbed bible aside with a low sigh. It went harder and harder to read the small letters as the years went by, he mused, stretching extensively in the hammock he called his own.

Time had been milder with him than with many others he knew, but nevertheless, he sometimes, especially when the weather changed, he felt his age. Scars and bones and joints ached, but fortunately not that much, that a good swig of grog wouldn't help anymore.

It was his watch below and he wasn't due to show up for duty for another hour or more, but there was only so much reading he could do, while squinting and peering at the Good Book from different distances, until he found the appropriate one. He was rested and ready to do something.

Maybe he could ask the carpenters mate for a piece of good seasoned oaken wood? He needed a new hilt for his dagger, the one he had ought it with was of inferior wood and was quickly wasting with ue and the harsh elements on a Navy ship.

The longer he mulled about this, the better the idea seemed and finally was convincing enough to make him get up slowly and gingerly. Well, he still *could* jump up at the call of alarm, but he preferred to take it easy by far - and why not? The pirates they had on board should be safely locked away and wouldn't probably pose any trouble, there was no need for now to worry.

Stretching and yawning heartily, Fergus slipped into his boots and put on his belt with the dagger in question. Maybe he could get some work on it done before his watch...

But what he saw when he finally ascended on deck he hadn't expected in his worst nightmares... the pirates, free, the marines facing them off, weapons drawn and in between, the poor little Ned, the cooks tiny helper and mascot of the whole ship, as a hostage of the pirates.

And these grim fellows didn't seem an inch shy of slitting the childs throat, if provoked any more my the marines.

Fergus opened his mouth to a soundless "oh!" of distress, but he couldn't ponder his options for too long... every heartbeat increased the probability that one of the young, foolhardy marines or the desperate pirates would make a rash decision, that would, more likely than not, cost the boys life.

The old and scarred seadog took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to the One above him to guide him in His will, before he stepped forwards and said in a quiet, but suitably far-reaching voice:

"In the name of the one who said 'Suffer the little children to come unto me', for the love of Christ, stop!"

This post has been written by ALCIA

He was observing some midshipmen learning to use a log line to measure the speed of the ship. It was one of those few classes where any alumn looked bored.

How many things they have to learn yet... and me too. Will it have an end? Will I someday know all what I need to be a sage and good man?

He shook his head smiling answering his own questions.

Of course not.

He left the stern and headed for his cabin. Was time to get some sleep as he wanted to be awake when they will arrive to Jamaica. On the way he heard an almost tonelessly sound and shortly after the unequivocal voice of Fergus:
"In the name of the one who said 'Suffer the little children to come unto me', for the love of Christ, stop!"

Damn it! It could be only the pirates, he unsheated his sword and a flintlock and hurried to help. He almost collided with two sailors who wanted to help too.

"You two, take the way from the upper deck and attack them from behind. Don't let them escape." he left to face the enemy.

Miles was sitting over his maps, musing about possible hiding places of the pirates, especially the Sea Hound. He knew the area quite well but with hundreds of little islands there were too many possibilities.

He didn't ask the prisoners. They'd either lie or lead them in a trap, so he couldn't rely on them.

Suddenly hearing a voice, clearly even in the cabin, he looked up.

"In the name of the one who said 'Suffer the little children to come unto me', for the love of Christ, stop!"

It was the bass of MacMillan, the old sea-dog, on of the men who served under his command for very long.

And it sounded like there was trouble. Miles grabbed his sword and not even bothering with his coat, he ran up. Seeing Quinn ready for action he soon saw what was happening.

"We can't let them harm the boy" he whispered to Mort.

Marina saw from the rigging what happened to her little friend, and she couldn’t let it continue. With cat-like moves, she descended to a comfortable distance and prepared her flying knife. As the yard she was on happened to be situated behind the pirates and she took care not to make any noise, nobody paid attention to her until the flying knife landed in the shoulder of the pirate who was keeping Ned. With a cry of pain, he let the grip loose, and Ned, frightened but not paralised of fear, used wisely this moment to run away and to seek refuge in the store room.

It was dark there, and he didn't notice that his arm was bleeding. In his initial attempts to escape, the pirate's blade had hurt him.

When the pirate had the opportunity to look back, after having succeeded to take the knife out, Marina was partially hidden by a sail and continuing her work as if nothing had happened.

He saw Martin coming and his maneuver to save the ship boy.

Well done sailor.

As soon Ned Barnes was safe from an imminent attack, he shot with his flint at pirates' legs and jumped forward with his sword. It was difficult to catch someone if this someone wanted to kill you.

Captain Crawford and MacMillan where at his side and more reinforcements were coming.

The blades collided. When his face was near enough to smell the sweat of his adversary he shouted.
"You can't escape!"

The pirates cursed when the boy escaped, even more when the saw the Captain himself come into the fight with his blade drawn. Crawford had quite a reputation among them.

"You better throw the damn swords down now" he said. "You're being aimed at, bastards, and they won't hesitate."

Actually he would've liked to just kill all the pirates and spare the trouble, but of course, his Lordship and the people wanted a public hanging in the port.

And I have to endanger my men for their fun...

He spotted Ned who wisely ran as far as possible and seeked shelter.

Bunch of pirates

"And what do we have to lose?" one of the pirates, obviously their leader, spat, parrying Crawfords blade.

"Our lifes?"

He laughed rauciously, when one of the other men used the fact that Quinns blade was locked with that of another pirate to grab his other arm. The two officers were skilled, of course, but they had run into a pack of desperados.... men who had nthing to lose and everything to win. And a short death by the sword or a pistol was ultimatively preferable to the slow death of suffocation to give the unwashed masses something to gape at, the hangmen being skilled enough to *just* prevent the breaking of the delinquents neck that would have shortened the torment... after that probably being publically exposed in the gibbets... no, a death on the sea was a hundred times better.

And if they could take a few of these hated, arrogant limeys with them.. even better!

Like rabid dogs the pirates jumped upon the intrepid two men, determined to find their death in combat instead of being publically hanged. And who knew... maybe they could even take a hostage and force the limeys to set them free?

This post has been written by ALCIA

Mortimer had been a good student and was not a bad fighter. In combat techniques as well as survival he was always very alert and learned soon what he needed to know, as he didn't want to lose his life foolishly.

When he could not attack with the sword, being paralyzed by stopping the enemy one, he used kicks and punches.

"If your life doesn't mean so much to you, I'll have less regrets in taking it away." He achieved to give a blow to one of them and left him senseless, but a second later a second pirate gave him a nice cut on his arm before he could counterattack.

You battle for your freedom,... you fight only for yourself. We serve something greater, defend our homeland, fighting for the good of our people, for a better future. You will not get out of here!

The time to have pity was over!

He didn't waste time on talking, he just fought, and he was a dangerous enemy. Yet he went more for injury than death. He'd rather have them unable to continue fight than just dead. The bastards deserved a good hanging and he wouldn't save them from it.

He wasn't afraid for himself. No one can stop him before he achieves his goal, especially not a bunch of pirates.

Sir NICHOLAS LAWES, Governor of Jamaica

* * * * * *

The Governor of Jamaica was happy to receive the “gift” sent by the Governor of Bahamas. Well, from the initially six pirates caught, only four arrived to justice and were locked in Fort Charles, waiting to be hanged at the gallows, making an example out of them.

Sir Nicholas Lawes was told, without details, about the pirates’ attempt to escape and the two of them who found their death in the process.

”Congratulations, captain, to you and your men… for having brought to justice this lot of rabble! The trial and the execution will take place soon.”

- THE END -

This post has been written by ELENA