It was the thundering footsteps of the of the crew that awoke the young woman. She didn’t seem startled or alerted by the wave of sounds above her; this had become the day-to-day noises she had become accustomed to. As Emmaline sat up, her long black feathered hair swayed back and forth; insync with the rocking deck. She took a minute or two to come too and remember where she was. Soon, her mind was refreshed with the events of the last few days, and why she was there; in the middle of the pacific ocean, on a small wooden Brig. She reached for her Jornal, flipping to the most recent page. After reading back a few pages, she fully comprehended what she had set out to do. As she set her jornal back underneath a loose deck board, she indulged in the moments that had lead up to this day. Her brother, Jacob Smith was a Sailor who served aboard a small british naval ship. Jacob, a man of twenty five, had only been aboard the small frigate for two winters before him and the rest of crew were sent out to find a gang of pirates who had commandeered a small schooner off the coast of an island named Ducie in the South pacific. They left the port of Hitiaa O Te Ra; an island some 1.439 Nautical miles away from Ducie island in search of them. That was the last any of them ever saw of the crew of that small frig.
While Mr and Mrs Smith were bombarded with gifts and care by their neighbours, all that the then seventeen-year-old Ammaline could see was her brother’s bright face being sucked down bellow to a watery grave somewhere in the south pacific. That was all she could see for the coming days, a pair of bright baby blue eyes in all sorts of disturbing and horrific situations. This filled Ammaline with a deep pit of guilt and despair. She felt like she was condemning her brother to death by sitting in her small cottage perched upon the cliffs above Sirentown england.
She knew she had to do something.
And when finally, a year later the announcement was made that they were sending a small british Brig out to the south pacific to search for the missing crew; Ammaline didn’t hesitate to sneak aboard with only a few essential things packed into a small sack, her small purple diary included. They had been at sea for thirteen days, Emmaline had gathered enough information by watching the thirteen men crew to know their day-to-day routine. She stayed hidden in the cargo deck, sleeping under a sack of what she thought was bread or whatever sailor’s ate on long voyages. Unlike her older brother, Ammline was not a sailor. The longest she had ever been at sea was when she and her family took a trip from her hometown to london, that had only lasted seven days.
She crouched and looked up and took a second to listen to the crew’s shouts and bellows.
“Make the most of that wind coming from the West men, With luck we’ll come across the Thomson by sunset!”
This bellow of a voice was followed by more yelling and scampering above, as the men of the HMS Judy took advantage of the good wind they had that day. Ammaline nodded to herself, guessing it had to be around 3pm, and made her way aft, trying to remain like a ghost below decks.
She clutched the wooden railing of the small staircases that lead up to the gun deck. Thankfully, most of the men were on deck at the time. there were only around five men above her, tending to the nacastites that she couldn’t fully see.
Suddenly she felt as if her heart was ripped out of her chest and through her dark purple dress as a skinny redhead man backed towards her carrying a crate. Ammaline fell back and scurried towards the bow and behind a set of barrels. The whole event had only lasted a few seconds but she felt like she was going to give in to a heart attack. Luckley, the cewman, a man Ammaline had come to know as Kalvin, a strong but rather skinny irishman had his back turned while carrying out his duties. She clutched her chest and tried to mask her breathing as she heard the redhead rumble around near the top of the aft staircase. As Emmaline’s breathing calmed, Kalvin moved forward towards the bow and up on deck, joining his fellow crewmates.
She let out a deep sigh of relief as she pushed her long hair out of her face: That was the closest she had ever been to getting caught. That was also the furthest she had ever walked and she decided that this would be the last time she would attempt to go further.
Just as Emmaline had collected herself she heard the yelling of the lookout.
“Sails off the port bow!” Jenkins yelled, clutching the rigging of the main mast, high above.
The decks above erupted into shouting and running as men ran towards the front of the Judy.
Ammaline stumbled to her feet as she tried to comprehend on what to do.
“Where Jenkins, Where!” Simmons yelled, looking up.
“About, seven desgres off to port!” He replied.
Ammline darted aft and crouched, slowly making her way up to the gun deck. She stopped about half way down the deck and hid behind a wooden beam, She crouched behind it, just enough to see what was unfolding above deck, chancing a few looks behind her, making sure that a lone man wasn’t going to come upon her. She watched as almost all of the crew were huddled around the bow, most of them clutching spyglasses and sextants.
“There she sails!” Martin, a large man with a stubble bellowed, pointing into the distance.
The nine men all looked forward to the direction he was pointing, out to the relatively calm seas. A small schooner was peacefully sailing west-word, away from the Judy. It had to be around 70,841 feet away, that number decreasing by the minute.
Ammaline couldn’t see this however, all she knew was that a ship had been spotted. All she could do was hope that it was the HMS Thompson, with her crew alive and well, her brother alive and well.
A pair of large and imposing footsteps thundered down the deck and towards the bow, towards the group of men all eyeing the small vessel in the distance.
“What colours is she flying Mr Collins?!” The large man with graying hair bellowed.
The first mate, Mr Collins, gazed intently into his spyglass.
“None Sir!” He replied loudly.
The large Captain nodded as Collins handed him his spyglass.
The crew all looked at one another, all of them harbouring the same thought.
“Pirates!” Mr Martin spat angrily.
The once confused and curious words of the crew erupted into a wave of slurs and expletives fueled with anger and hated, hated for the small vasil now looming ever closer as the much larger and faster Judy was closing in on her. The crew continued to yell and spit until the captain raised his hand and all aboard were silenced. nothing but the creaking of the wooden Brig and sound of the calm sea making the Judy bob calmly up and down in a continuous motion.
After what seemed like hours, but was in fact only a minute or two, the captain spoke in a low and authority voice.
“Aye, pirates.”
Collins locked at his captain as he was handed back his spyglass, waiting for his orders.
“Give chase” The captain ordered, before making his way back towards the aft of the ship.
“GIVE CHASE!” Collins repeated.
The phrase was repeated several times as the crew scurried around the deck. A barrage of shouting and yelling erupted upon the once silent waters. Ammaline hurried back bellow, she topped and gazed up through the cargo grate, seeing men running about. Some climbed atop the rigging of the two large masts, making full use of the Judy’s many white sails. More orders were given and the men complied with full intent. These were once men, peaceful sailors on the lookout for a lost ship and her crew, now they were blood firsty animals on the hunt for their pray; That’s all Ammaline could see now.
“SHE CAN TAKE ALL THE WIND SHE CAN GET!” A man yelled from atop the aft mast.
“The winds on our side lads make good use of it” Another man yelled from the forward end of the ship.
Ammaline felt the Judy lunge forward as the Brig picked up speed.
The Schooner, which until now had been calmly sailing forward, was now on the move, her sails full dressed.
“SHES MAKING A RUN FOR IT!” Martin boomed from the bow.
Some of the crew turned to look while fulfilling their incoming orders.
“They won’t outrun the hangman’s noose that easily” Kelvin spat, approaching Martin, the two men gazing forward at the fleeing schooner.
The british flag was hoisted atop the main mast as more orders were barked to the crew from Collins and a few other men. Ammaline, who had been nervously watching from bellow decks, creeped up and was now again watching from the staircase, a bit more exposed this time. The worry of being caught was now ever shrinking as the men were more occupied with catching the pray fleeing from them.
The once calm waves were now crashing against the white oak haul of the Judy, sounding like a barrage of cannon fire. The men in the rigging clutched hard, soo hard that their knuckles were white. All of them had been at sea for many winters now. so the fears of falling off and down to the crushing depths of the sea bellow were long since gone.
“FOG ON THE HORIZON!” The lookout yelled from high above.
The crew turned to look forward and a wall of thick fog was looming closer. It hadn’t been there seconds ago. it was like it had just materialized out of thin air. Looks of disappointment and anger washed over the men’s faces as they turned to their superiors for orders.
“Orders sir?!” Collins yelled to the Captain who was stood by the helmsnan.
The Captain remained silent for a moment, contemplating his next move.