"There she is, sir."
"She's a beauty, isn't she?"
"Defiance. That's La Buze, alright, sir. Formerly HMS Sicabo, I heard, sir."
"Jamaica-built, 18 guns."
"That's right, sir."
"Mister Davis?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Why are you calling me sir?"
Lieutenant Davis grinned. He and Rupert Black were lying prone behind a sand dune, peering through glasses at the sloop anchored off Martello Tower. The setting sun shone across the scene, turning even the sea golden for the last few minutes of the day.
"Because you're going to be our captain, sir."
"I am? Why is that?"
"For two reasons, sir."
"Well? Out with it, Mister Davis."
"Yes, sir. Well, the first reason, sir, begging your pardon but the men, they'll jump into the mouth of hell for you and no mistake, sir. They're ready and eager to serve you."
Black frowned and looked back at where a couple of crewmembers watched them anxiously from the cover of the twisted scrub trees that covered most of the island.
"They are? Why the damn hell should they want to serve me for?"
"We all remember that day on the deck of the Ascot Marine, sir. Horse and Red and that monkey would have killed us all but then you came up sir, with a gun and sword and tossing grenadoes about. You frightened those bastards, sir, and that's saying something. They would have just killed us all if you hadn't done that, sir, and not a man of us doesn't know it."
Black harumphed, embarrassed but unavoidably pleased.
"Never mind that, Mister Davis. We were damn fortunate, every one of us."
They turned back to the ship, watching for activity aboard.
Black recalled the conversation and frowned.
"What's the other reason?"
Davis grinned again. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a folded sheet of thick paper. Black gasped at the sight of the ornate signature.
"That's from. That's. The King!"
"That, sir, is Captain Hancock's privateering commission. You'll note that nowhere does it mention him by name. It refers solely to 'The Bearer Of This Note'."
Black's mind raced.
"If we can get that ship --"
Davis continued the thought.
"-- and get away --"
"-- and take a few prizes --"
"-- we'll be able to turn them over to the Navy --"
"-- and we'll be rich."
Black chuckled.
"And it will all be perfectly legal. Especially if we hand back the Royal Navy's stolen sloop in the bargain."
Both men were grinning like children stealing cookies as they returned to their study of the Defiance, lying at anchor so nearby.
"Not much of a crew aboard right now."
"No, sir. And she's taken on fresh water, and I'd wager shot and powder as well. They'll be leaving in the morning, no doubt."
"You know I'm not much of a sailor, Mister Davis."
"Never you worry about that, Captain. You can plot a course and you can lay a gun and you know something about leading men. We know ships and we know these waters. We'll do just fine."
"Let's see about getting aboard that ship. Where's that old man got to now?"
*****
A tight circle of grim-faced men listened close as Peter explained the layout inside Martello Tower. The sun had set and in the starlight, the surf crashed up in phosporescent repetition. A lone bonfire marked where half-a-dozen sentries sat drinking. The tower windows glowed with lamplight, revealing the two big guns stationed there to rake the anchorage.
"Ten men?"
There were murmurs of disbelief at the news that ten men held the tower. The single oaken door looked strong enough to withstand any battering attempt they might bring to bear, and those guns would easily demolish the Defiance before she'd worked her way clear of the reefs.
"We'll never force that place against ten men. None of us are properly armed, except for Dras -- "
A few chuckles circulated around the group. Dras, still dressed in her usual cook's mate garb, grinned sheepisly, as did Guadalupe.
"And even so, how are we going to get inside?"
Dras spoke up.
"Ana and I could disguise ourselves as, well, as ladies with wine. They might open their doors to us. Ladies come down from the party to celebrate with the guards."
Word had come that Devon Codrington and Olivier La Buze were having a tremendous party up at Codrington house with most of La Buze's crew. The few left down here did not seem to be taking their guard duties very seriously. Most of the crew nodded in agreement.
Black frowned.
"Are you sure you'll be entirely convincing as a woman, lad?"
The circle fell silent. Lieutenant Davis coughed.
"Um, sir? Dras is, well, that is to say, sir, Dras is a lady. Sir."
"He is?"
Black peered a little more closely at the mulatto youth and shook his head.
"I don't see it myself. Are you sure?"
Some wag called out, "Guadalupe is."
The group snickered while both the Portuguese topman and the cook's mate blushed.
Black shook his head again.
"I don't like ladies risking themselves. This sounds dangerous to me."
Ana and Dras exchanged glances. They both stood up.
"Tell you what, sir. We're going to go rustle up some wine -- "
Ana interrupted, gesturing to Dras' clothing, " -- and a dress -- "
" -- and see if those guards in that there tower want to have a bit. If you lot feel like taking advantage of that opportunity, go right ahead."
Quinn nodded briskly.
"We can get a group right around that corner, there, only a couple of feet from the door. As soon as it's opened... "
Dras took off her swordbelt and handed it to Quinn.
"As soon as it's opened, get me my sword."
The two women left with Peter to acquire some local dresses. Black studied Quinn, Davis and the others.
"Right. Quinn, you're master-at-arms. Mister Davis, you're, well, Lieutenant. Do we have anyone who knows this anchorage? Thomas? Very well, you're sailing-master. Anyone for carpenter? Will? Very good. Thomas, Will, and you four, you'll come with Mister Davis and I down the beach. We fall upon the guards there with whatever we have, sticks, rocks, what have you, as soon as the tower door opens. We'll get the ship ready while you, Quinn, take care of the tower guards and bring the rest down to the ship."
Everyone nodded, tense and eager. Black grinned in the darkness.
"Remember, lads. We're fighting for the King, here. God bless him."
*****
The door opened.
Dras and Ana, wearing thin linen dresses, kept up the charade, leaning in on the opening door and giggling at the startled, but pleased, men inside. Ana counted quickly. Nine.
Dras made sure she was still standing at the door, preventing it from closing, as Quinn led his team around the corner in a charge for the open portal. The incoming group plowed into the startled guards with an audible thump, Quinn hollering all the way.
The dark stone room flew into chaos. Men were down on the floor, struggling with each other, choking and punching and biting. Dras danced backward as two angry tower guards came towards her. She yelled at Quinn.
"My sword! My sword!"
Quinn was already using the implement in question, and yanked it free of a guard's body, cursed and, with a quick prayer to Mother Mary, tossed the elegant rapier across the room.
Dras twisted away from a grasping hand, put a foot on a barrel and leapt into the air.
The girl and the weapon met halfway across the room, a thin dark hand coiling familiarly around the hilt just as Dras tucked, landed, rolled and popped up to her feet, spinning to face her startled opponents.
"Ha!"
The tip of the rapier blurred and one man grabbed at his throat, blood spraying a heartbeat later. The other was still gaping at his friend when with a wild lunge Dras extended herself, back leg stretched out, and transfixed him with the slim blade.
Ana grabbed her bow and quiver from one of the Ascots and raced up the stairs to find the final guard, obviously a more senior soldier than the others, frantically preparing a length of slow match. He hadn't got it lit when he looked up at the creak of wood.
Ana drew and let fly. The arrow caught the man in the cheek, coming out the side of this head and sending him flying backward. With lithe steps the island girl raced down the room, straddled the twitching man and cut his throat. She looked up as Quinn leapt upstairs.
"I'm fine."
They went to the gunport and watched as the other squad overran the beach sentries and got a rowboat heading out to the ship. A brief scuffle aboard and it looked as though the Defiance was theirs.
Twenty minutes later the entire crew stood on the deck of the trim little sloop as the anchor was winched up. Black, Davis and Guadalupe conferred as to the proper arrangement of sails to get them past the reef while Ana, Dras and Quinn lounged at the sternrail.
"A little prize money won't hurt," the Irishman commented.
Dras nodded.
"And less crew to share it with, now."
Ana's smile was heartfelt.
"And no crazy captain to deal with."
"I think things are going to be pretty good for us from now on."
"Sail ho! Sail off the starboard quarter!"
The three were quiet for a second until Quinn spoke.
"Unless, of course, we're sunk as soon as we set sail."
That is most likely a good idea. You seem to have a great set of players. That is always a plus. 
