The Affectionate Adversary Read Free

been tossed into the sea, some had leapt to their deaths, while others were crushed beneath the falling mast. Those men who still labored at the Tintagel’ s cannon shouted encouragement, but few remained to heed it.
    Charles staggered toward the nearest gun and scanned the deck for young Danny Martin. The boy had vanished along with so many others, leaving the clipper eerily empty. Reaching the poor man who vainly tried to load the cannon’s muzzle, Charles clapped him on the shoulder.
    “My good sir,” he said, “allow me to assist you.”
    “Aye, but see how they shoot their grapnels at us now!” the fellow cried as the pirate ship’s cannons launched an array of iron barbs across the narrow expanse between the two vessels. Charles knew the grapnel hooks carried ropes that would tie the ships together. It would not be long before the enemy would board the Tintagel .
    His leg a bloodied mess, the sailor struggled to lift a ball. “Oh, God, where be Ye now? Shall Ye leave us to perish in the deep?”
    “Take heart.” Charles took the shot from the man’s hands and thrust it into the cannon’s mouth. “God has not abandoned us. Here, you must have this pistol, sir. Protect yourself.” “
    Bah! What good is a pistol? Look—their boats now hoist and swing away. They shall be upon us in moments!”
    From the pirate ship, six smaller barks filled with well-armed men were lowered to the sea. Bellowing insults and taunts, they rowed toward the foundering clipper. There were too many of them, Charles realized, and far too few left to defend the Tintagel . The attackers came too fast, too furiously, and there was little hope for salvation.
    But he would not give up his life and his dreams so easily. “Come, where is your tinderbox, man?” he demanded. “We are not dead yet.”
    The two worked to light the fuse, and in a moment, the ball burst from the gun with a blast of black powder that knocked them both to the deck. Charles rolled onto his knees just as another round of langrage hit the Tintagel and exploded. Shrapnel flew. Wood splintered. Bolts and nails burrowed into the railings and the deck. A shard of scrap iron tore a hole through the chest of the man Charles had just assisted. He stared at Charles with lifeless eyes before toppling in a heap.
    As a knot of disbelief and terror formed in his throat, Charles wiped the sweat and blood from his eyes. Now the pirate boats bumped against the hull of the Tintagel . Boarding pikes arced over the rail and buried their pointed iron heads in the splintered wood of the deck. Charles grabbed one of the seven-foot poles and yanked it loose. But he quickly saw there were too many to dislodge them all. The Malabar pirates were already climbing ropes attached to the pikes.
    As Charles drew his pistols, they came. Swarming up and over the railing like so many ants, the pirates poured onto the Tintagel . Clad in every color of the rainbow and with gold chains and jewels hung about their necks, they carried cut- lasses, flintlocks, axes, muskets, knives, and granados. The few seamen who were still able now unleashed the last of their weaponry. Balls flew, swords hissed and clanged, men cried out in pain.
    Unable to still the trembling in his hands, Charles took cover behind the wheelhouse. A giant of a man with a great black mustache and a red turban spotted the Englishman, drew his saber, and rushed forward. When the pirate was nearly upon him, Charles pulled the trigger—and missed his target by a foot. With a roar of rage, the marauder continued his charge, pausing only to replace his saber with a brace of pistols drawn from a leather sling across his chest.
    As the pirate resumed his headlong plunge, Charles caught a glimpse of Danny from the corner of his eye. The lad was hidden inside a coil of rope near the capstan, yet his head protruded as he helplessly observed the massacre unfolding before him.
    “Danny!” Checking the two pistols he yet carried and