Dawn of a Red Sky Page 7

  K-BOOM

  “Apologies, Commodore, but the Admiral ordered it,” said the navigator, pointing over to the Salvation.

  As Matthew looked over at the massive Navy vessel, he saw Admiral Carter staring back at him. His emotionless face showed a terrifying determination. There was a silent order between the two officers, one that Hamond could not ignore, not at such a crucial time. The tension between them rivaled that of the Navy and the pirates.

  A simple nod from the Admiral sent a shiver coursing down Matthew’s spine. Not even looking away from his superior, he said, “Start the attack on Rebelde. Make sure no one leaves.”

  A smile appeared on Carter’s face once Commodore Hamond gave the order. He was satisfied.

  K-BOOM K-BOOM K-BOOM

  Turning back to the battle, Hamond caught a glimpse of red. His heart nearly skipped a beat. Containing himself, he slowly made his way over to the rail, following the red along the coast. Silently, he prayed to God to help the pirates escape.

  K-BOOM

  The red was hidden behind another ship that was taking heavy fire. By now, the Commodore could tell that the red was a sail, but it has too well hidden behind the other ship for Hamond to tell if it was the Red Sky. The only thing he could do was hope that they were not caught in the crossfire.

  As the ship and the pirates hiding behind it disappeared behind a cloud of cannon smoke, Commodore Hamond turned his attention back to the horrid massacre happening in front of his eyes.

  For Rebelde, death had come.

  Flames consumed the ship beside the Red Sky as Riggs and his crew rushed about their own ship, trying to keep themselves hidden. They were so close to slipping past the armada that they could almost feel it. They could see the opening right in front of them. If they could just make it that far, then there would be nothing except open sea to flee.

  FABAM FABAM

  The closest Navy ship blasted away at the Red Sky’s burning shield. Steam rose into the air as the other pirate ship started to sink with the remaining crew abandoning it. With no one to control it, the ship was left to its fate, revealing the Red Sky to the Navy.

  “All port cannons fire!” Riggs shouted.

  BOOM BOOM BOOM

  The attack caught the Navy vessel by surprise. The cannonballs blasted through the side of the ship, one even striking the mast. Much as they would have enjoyed watching the turmoil, the pirates could only take fleeting glances as the mast tumbled to the deck of the ship, crushing the rail and blanketing the cannons in a tangled mess of ropes and fabric.

  With the attack causing a distraction and crippling the Navy ship, the Red Sky was free to sail away. A few of the other Navy ships tried to turn and pursue the pirates, but there was no possible way that they would be able to catch the fastest ship on the seas.

  Pulling Clint to the wheel, Riggs ran to the rail, trying to catch a glimpse of Rebelde. What he could see was heart-breaking.

  Dozens of ships were now nothing more than floating bits of masts and hulls. Flames licked the air as the destroyed vessels burned and sank into the waters of the port. Past that chaos, Riggs could see fires erupting all over the town. Houses and shops were going up in flames. Even from far away, the pirate captain still thought he could hear the screams of the men, women, and children who had failed to escape.

  Quickly turning his head from the wheel, Clint gasped at the destruction. Neither he, nor Riggs, nor anyone else on the ship could have imagined the horror of watching what they considered their home being destroyed in such a heartless manner.

  “Good god,” said Clint, unsure of how to react.

  Slowly, Riggs turned around, a forlorn look on his face. It mixed with his anger, transforming his usual charming demeanor into one of wretchedness.

  “What’s so good about ‘im?” he asked, directing the question at his navigator, “What’s so good about any of this? Hundreds of people are dead, and all we can do is run away.”

  Coral Jack ran to his captain and latched onto his friend’s arms, sensing a rage boiling inside him.

  “Captain, there’s nothing we can do now. We need to get as far away from here as possible and focus on what we came here to do,” Jack said quickly, begging Riggs to see the bigger picture.

  “And what was that? Stop Henry Every? I think the Navy’s done enough damage to us pirates. They can take care of him themselves.”

  “Ye don’t understand, Captain Riggs.”

  The crew looked to the pirate who had spoken. All eyes were soon fixed on Thomas Jones.

  Pushing Coral Jack to the side, Riggs stomped towards Jones, saying, “I don’t recall invitin’ ye aboard my ship.”

  Looking right into the captain’s eyes, Thomas replied, “You didn’t.”

  Face to face with Jones, Riggs said, “Then what makes you think ye can come aboard?”

  Cocking his head to the side, Thomas said, “You really don’t know the importance o’ what just occurred.”

  “Tell me,” Riggs ordered, grabbing the man by his coat collar.

  Calmly, Thomas explained the situation to him.

  “With Rebelde attacked, do you think that any pirate would consider himself safe? This panic that you’re feeling right now… that’s the same feeling of every pirate that just escaped wit’ his life. When people panic, they turn to the strongest being for help.”

  Thomas took Riggs’ hands and removed them from his coat.

  “There was a reason Henry Every was called the King o’ Pirates, Captain Riggs. He was powerful. He was smart. Most importantly, he was never caught. Every inspired many people to become the pirates that they are today, and if they knew that he was still alive… well, they would certainly not hesitate to follow ‘im.”

  “Like I said before, let the bloody Navy deal wit’ it,” Riggs growled.

  Jones peered at Riggs from under his eyebrows, casting a dark shadow over his eyes.

  “You and I both know that ain’t gonna happen.”

  Riggs was starting to get frustrated.

  “Well it’ll have to. I’m done bringin’ a stop to these magical freaks.”

  Having said that, Captain Riggs turned away from Jones and started to make his way down to his quarters. He was done arguing.

  “Do you remember Marcus Garrett?”

  The name struck Riggs like a knife in the back. He slowly turned around, glaring at his fellow pirate. Thomas had not moved from where Riggs had left him.

  “What does that name mean to ye, Captain Riggs? Pain? Suffering? Chaos? With his power, he was able to take control o’ one o’ the strongest vessels in the English Navy. Every, on the other hand, has years of experience using his magic. When he has a following large enough, he will destroy the Navy. After that, what’s to stop ‘im from destroying you and your precious ship?”

  Riggs stepped forward, but Jones did not flinch. For an ordinary pirate, he had a surprising amount of fortitude.

  Much as the Captain did not want to admit it, he knew that Thomas was right. With the pirates of Rebelde running scared, Every could easily convince them to join him. Running from the skeleton crew would just cement the inevitability of their own deaths.

  “Alright, Jones. If you really do know where Every is headed, then tell us,” Riggs asked, skeptical of the pirate’s skills.

  After taking a moment to think, Thomas answered, “If I know anything about Every, I’d say he would head to Delaware. All of the rumors that I’ve heard tell of ‘im parting ways wit’ most of his crew there.”

  Riggs was genuinely surprised. He had not expected an answer, much less a quick answer. The Captain rested his hands on his hips, looked down at the deck, and took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do.

  “Welcome to the crew of the Red Sky, Mr. Jones. Give Clint a headin’ and this ship’ll be on its way to Delaware.”

  When Commodore Hamond stepped onto the nearly destroyed docks of Rebelde, he felt his heart and stomach drop. The scene was like something out of his worst n
ightmares. Dead pirates lay strewn on the ground, their blood dripping into the waters below. The ships were nothing more than mangled piles of wood with men hanging from the rigging like marionette puppets.

  “Commodore?”

  Matthew spun around to face Admiral Carter, responding, “Yes, sir?”

  “Have I ever told you how long I have been waiting for a moment like this?” asked Carter, motioning for Hamond to walk with him.

  “No, sir,” was the Commodore’s response.

  The two men stepped over the bloody and mangled corpse of a man as they reached the end of the dock. The mess of Rebelde lay in front of them, fires still burning and filling the air with ash. The smell of death hung in every soldier’s nostrils. Hamond was the only one who did not find any satisfaction in it.

  “I never thought it would be this violent,” he said.

  Dispatching soldiers to sweep the town of any survivors, Carter said, “Those who adhere to piracy live through violence. It is the only way to stop them… the only way to eradicate them forever.”

  Hamond listened to the words coming out of the mouth of his superior, his hatred growing for the man with every passing second. He followed directly behind the Admiral, walking through the rubble of buildings. Men and women lay dead on the ground, their glazed eyes staring up at the men stepping over them. The Commodore tried not to look at them, but with each step, he became more disturbed. Everywhere that he looked, he saw bodies. Their blood carpeted the street, limbs contorted at strange angles. The smell of burnt flesh, wood, and vomit filled the air.

  “This is… this is horrible,” Matthew whispered to himself.

  “Horrible?” asked the Admiral, obviously hearing what his officer had said, “This is what we must do to keep citizens of the Crown safe, Commodore. If I have to travel door to door and drag those pirates into the streets, then I will.”

  Carter stopped, turning to look his officer straight in the eyes. The fires in his eyes were enough to shock a common criminal into submission, but Hamond tried his best to not be intimidated.

  “Sometimes, Commodore Hamond, I wonder if you share the same conviction as me.”

  “If I do, then I certainly do not share the same thirst for blood.”

  Hamond stood his ground, watching the disappointment appear on Carter’s face.

  “You are out of line, Commo…”

  “Help!” cried a child’s voice.

  The scream interrupted Carter right in the middle of his sentence. From what Hamond could hear, it had come from one of the buildings on that street. Not waiting for the Admiral to finish, Matthew ran up the street, following the voice every time that he heard it. He paid no attention to anything that the Admiral might have been saying to him. He did not give a damn about his orders right now.

  “Help me, please!” the child cried again, the voice coming from a doorway right next to the Commodore.

  Without hesitation, he bashed the door in, the wood already half-broken from the Navy’s attack. As the dust settled, he tried to get his bearings.

  The child screamed again, leading Hamond further into the building. Coughing, he forced the dust and debris out of his lungs, heading from room to room, searching for the child.

  When he reached a room that looked like it had been used for storage, he saw the child sitting on the ground, holding on to something buried underneath a collapsed section of the ceiling. As he stepped into the room, the little girl cowered but did not leave what she was holding. She was no older than ten.

  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” the Commodore asked the timid child.

  “A-are you going… to kill us? They all w-want to kill us,” the child whimpered.

  “Who are they?” he asked, kneeling down at the girl’s side.

  She raised a shaking finger and pointed at the insignia on Hamond’s uniform. It was then that the Commodore realized that the object that the girl was holding was a human hand. It had been covered with so much blood, dirt, and dust that Hamond did not even realize that the girl was still holding on to the body of her murdered father.

  Hastily, he removed his coat, wrapping it around the little girl to keep her warm. He took her hands and looked into her small, terrified eyes.

  “I’m not here to kill anyone. I’m here to help you.”

  With tears running down her cheeks, the girl clung to Hamond’s hand, but she still would not let go of her dead parent’s hand. Gently coaxing her to release her grip on the body, Hamond lifted the girl into his arms.

  “W-who’s g-going to help my papa?” she cried, her small fists clenching the Commodore’s shirt.

  Stepping out of the room with the girl, the Commodore lied, saying, “I’ll come back for him. Right now, I’ve got to get you out of here.”

  Hamond carried the girl out of the room as bits of dust fell onto both of their heads. He could feel the girl tugging at his shoulders in shock and panic. His mind flashed back to when he used to carry Julia. When she was hurt, she would do the same thing, prompting him to hold the girl closer. She was going to be safe now.

  With the weeping child in his arms, Commodore Hamond stepped out of the house. Almost instantly, he saw Admiral Carter standing in the street, flanked on both sides by several soldiers. Once the girl saw them, she started to cry more, burying her face in the Commodore’s shoulder.

  “You need to get this child some help, Admiral.”

  Carter just stood there, his hands resting on his belt. A frown covered his face as he looked at Hamond with disapproval.

  “Commodore, we came here with one objective in mind. What was it?”

  Hamond did not answer, looking to the other soldiers for help.

  “I order you to get this girl some help.”

  The soldiers looked to the Admiral, receiving nothing but a stern wave of the hand. The cries of the little girl seemed to get louder and louder in Matthew’s ear.

  “What was our mission, Commodore?” he asked, his eyes glaring at Hamond and the child.

  “I don’t give a damn about the mission, Edward. I care about…”

  BANG

  The girl fell silent as Carter placed his smoking pistol back in his belt. Hamond stared at his superior in shock, still holding the limp corpse of the child in his arms. Blood trickled down his shoulders, staining his shirt red.

  Carter turned his back to a shaken Hamond and said, “Our mission was to destroy the pirates… every last one of them.”

  Easing himself to his knees, Matthew laid the dead child on the ground with trembling arms. His fingers twitching fearfully, he slowly closed the girl’s eyes, shutting her away from the chaos and destruction that had encompassed her home.

  Holding onto the little girl’s cold hands, Matthew slowly turned to look at the man… no, the monster responsible for the genocide in Rebelde. It did not seem to faze Admiral Carter that he had just murdered a child in cold blood. He merely saw her as another pirate, deserving of death. Hamond laid a hand on the girl’s head, silently promising her and all of the men and women who had died that he would bring their killer to justice… his own kind of justice.

  “Step lively, lads. We’ve got to catch something by nightfall or we’ll be out of a job.”

  Onboard the Panting Dog, dozens of exhausted fishermen struggled to try to earn a living. For days, they had only barely managed to meet their quota, each day seemingly getting harder. Captain George Hamilton was nearing his breaking point as the stress kept piling on his shoulders.

  The crew tossed a fishing net over the side of the ship, trying desperately to catch enough to keep their jobs. Unfortunately for them, when they hauled it back onto the deck, only a measly couple of fish were caught in the netting.

  As the sun sank below the horizon, Captain Hamilton and his crew stood on the deck, their sullen eyes fixated on the disappointing catch.

  “What should we do, sir?” asked one of the men, trying to hide his panic.

  With a frown on his face, Hamilton did not t
ake his eyes off the fish, saying, “At dawn, we work as hard as we can to compensate for this rubbish. With our hardest work, we should be able to catch enough. If need be, I’ll get my hands dirty and help where I’m needed. How does that sound?”

  He looked around at his crew, watching them nod their heads in agreement. They were all willing to do anything to survive at this point.

  “We might be needing that, sir,” said another one of the men.

  “That settles it then,” he said, “Get some shut-eye. We’ll all need as much rest as possible for tomorrow.”

  Dismissing his crew, Captain Hamilton started to walk back to his cabin, but a startled cry from one of the men urged him to stop.

  “Captain, there’s something out there! Out on the sea!”

  Instantly, everyone rushed to the side of the ship, watching the man who had sounded the alarm point out over the dark waters. Their eyes adjusting to the darkness, the crew soon noticed a small craft drifting toward them. It looked crude, barely able to stand up to the elements, and small, not something any of the fishermen would have expected to see this far out on the ocean. A lone sail used to push the small craft forward, its torn fabric now reduced to worthlessness. From what the fishermen could see, the craft was barely staying afloat.

  Hurrying about the Dog, the crew readied the ship to intercept the diminutive craft. Hamilton pulled a spyglass out of his coat, anxiously checking the craft to see how many people were stranded on it.

  As the craft drifted closer, he could only see the bodies of two people laying in several inches of water that filled the inside of the craft. Both of them were not moving.

  “Hurry, you scallywags. We need to get these poor souls aboard,” Captain Hamilton shouted as the Panting Dog came up alongside the craft.

  As quick as their tired muscles would allow, the crew made their way down to the leaking craft once it had been secured to the ship. They carried the two soaked bodies onto the ship, laying them on the deck. It was then that they realized that both were women. One was clad in a dress so torn and patched together that it barely resembled an actual garment. The other wore tight, black pants that were ripped like someone had cut them with a knife and a tattered shirt with burn marks all over it.