Virginia realized there would be no surrender.She needed a gun.
She glanced wildly around as the captain of theDefiancerepeated his demands that they surrender to be boarded. An interminable moment followed as the crew of theAmericanahastily prepared to fire. And suddenly the sea changed. A huge blast of too many cannons to count sounded, theDefiancefiring upon them. The placid seas swelled violently as the ship bucked and heaved, hit once or many times—Virginia could not know—and as someone screamed, she heard a terrible groaning above her.
She turned and glanced upward and cried out.
Horatio was yelling, “Fire!” but Virginia watched one of theAmericana’s three masts and all its rigging toppling slowly over before crashing down on several gunners. Several cannons now fired again from theDefiance,but not in unison. Virginia didn’t hesitate. Lifting her skirts, she raced to the fallen men. Three were crushed and alive, one was apparently dead. She tried to heave the mast, but it was useless. She grabbed a pistol from the murdered sailor and ran back to the hatch that led below.
She could not breathe. She scrambled down and into the tiny cabin that she shared with the merchantman’s only passengers, a middle-aged couple. In the small, cramped and dark space below, Mrs. Davis was clutching her Bible, muttering soundlessly, her face stark with terror. Virginia had glimpsed Mr. Davis on deck, trying to help the wounded.
Virginia gripped her arm. “Are you all right?” she demanded.
The woman gazed at her with wild terror, clearly unable to hear her or respond.
More cannons boomed and Virginia heard wood being ripped apart as they were clearly hit again. Virginia leapt onto her narrow berth, grabbing a hanging strap for balance, and stared at the attacking ship through the porthole. TheAmericanalurched wildly, and she was almost tossed from the bunk.
How could this be happening? she wondered wildly, aghast. Who would attack an innocent, barely armed and neutral ship?
Mrs. Davis began to sob. Virginia listened to familiar prayers and wished the woman had remained silent.
What would happen next? What did that terrible captain want? Did he intend to sink the ship? But that would not make sense!
Her gaze moved instinctively back to the quarterdeck where he stood so motionlessly that he could have been a statue. He was staring, she knew, at theAmericana,as intent as a hawk. What kind of man could be so merciless, so ruthless? Virginia shivered. Officer Grier had referred to him as the scourge of the seas.
Then she stiffened with real fear. TheDefiance’s decks, a moment ago, had been frenzied with activity. Now the gunners at the cannons and the men in the masts were still. The only activity was a number of sailors climbing down into two rowboats that were tied to the frigate’s hull. Her gaze flew back to the captain with real horror; he was sending a boarding party.
Now theAmericanahad become eerily quiet. Virginia already thought that Captain Horatio would not surrender, and nor would she, if she were in command. She checked the pistol to find it primed and loaded.
“Dear Father who art in Heaven,” Mrs. Davis suddenly cried. “Have mercy on us all!”
Virginia could not stand it. She turned and seized the other woman’s arm savagely, shaking her hard. “God isn’t here today,” she cried. “And he sure as hell isn’t going to help us! We’re being boarded. They must be pirates. We are losing this battle, Mrs. Davis, and we had better hide.”
Mrs. Davis clutched her Bible to her bosom, clearly paralyzed with fear. Her mouth moved wildly now, forming words, but no sounds came.
“Come,” Virginia said more kindly. “We’ll hide down below.” She knew there were lower decks and hoped they could find some small cranny to hide in. She tugged on the other woman. But it was useless.
Virginia gave up. Pistol in hand, she climbed back to the main deck and saw the first of the rowboats approaching. O’Neill stood in the bow behind his men, his legs widely braced against the seas. Virginia hesitated. Why the hell wasn’t anyone shooting at him?
If she had a musket, he’d now be dead.
Her fingers itched, her palms grew clammy. She didn’t know what range the pistol she held carried, but she did know it wasn’t much. Still, he was getting closer and closer and why wasn’t Horatio firing upon him?
Virginia could not stand it. She rushed to the rail and very carefully, very deliberately, took aim.
With some finely honed instinct, perhaps, he turned his head and looked right at her.
Good, she thought savagely, and she fired.
The shot fell short, plopping into the sea directly before the rowboat’s hull. And she realized had she waited another minute or two for him to travel closer, she would have got him after all.
He stared at her.
Virginia turned and ran around the first hatch to the one that the seamen used. She scrambled down the ladder, realized she was in the sailors’ cramped, malodorous quarters—she was briefly appalled at how horrid they were—when she saw another hatch at the far end of the space. She lifted that and found herself descending even lower below the sea.
She didn’t like being below the ocean. Virginia couldn’t breathe and panic began, but she fought it and she fought for air. Not far from the bottom of this ladder was an open doorway, through which was utter darkness. Virginia wished she’d had the wit to bring a candle. She went cautiously forward and found herself in a small hold filled with crates and barrels. Virginia crouched down at the far end and realized she still held her pistol, now useless, because in the midst of battle she hadn’t thought to grab any powder and shot.
She didn’t toss it aside. Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, she reversed it, holding the barrel now in her right hand.
Then her knees gave way.He had seen her take a shot at him.
