Free An Officer but No Gentleman by M. Donice Byrd Page B

and the doctor still stood.
    “Your name?”
    “Charli e Sinclair,” she said, her teeth clenched together.  “And that man lying dead is my father, Captain John Sinclair, you murdering, Limey bastard!  Take me; I dare you, because the first opportunity I get, I will cut out your heart and your captain’s as well.”
    He raised his blunderbuss at her.  “Would you like to join him, my boy?”
    Charlie stared the man in the face.  At that moment she just did not care.  With his stance, she knew she could easily flip him onto his back and disarm him, but she couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t fire his weapon in the process.  She also knew that doing anything so stupid could get her men killed. 
    The doctor put his hand on her arm, knowing the direction of her thoughts.  “No, Charlie.”
    “Thought not,” the Englishman taunted.  “You’re all mouth and no trousers.”
    Brody Kirk stepped between them, shielding Charlie. “He’s upset,” he said referring to Charlie.
    As he eyed Dr. Kirk, a haughty expression of superiority crossed his countenance.  He opened the ledger and scanned the page until he found the doctor’s name.  “I know you, Brody Kirk.  We served together in His Majesty’s Navy,” he lied.  “As I recall you jumped ship before your enlistment was finished.”
    “Seize him!” he yelled to his nearest men.
    “No!” Charlie cried.
    Two big brutes grabbed Dr. Kirk.  “Wait,” he said to the mate. “Let me.…”
    One of the guards sent his elbow into the doctor’s gullet.  Dr. Kirk grabbed his throat, his face turning red as he tried to pull air into his lungs.  They dragged him across the plank to the warship.  The other three men were forced across with guns to their backs.  The remaining British filed back to their ship, the plank was pulled back and the grappling hooks and ropes holding the ships yardarm to yardarm were retrieved.  In minutes, the warship was under sail returning to their original course.
    Charlie shook with unvented rage.
    “There was nothing that could be done,” Byron said beside her.
    Charlie walked away from him and began shouting orders.
    “Carpenter, get up there and start measuring to repair the yardarms and mizzenmast.  Inspect everything while you’re up there.  If you need help, recruit as many men as you need to assist you.”
    “Aye, sir,” the carpenter shouted from across the deck.
    “Mr. Peck we’re going to need new sails.”
    “I’m a step ahead of you.  I think we’ve got more than what’s needed waitin’ below.  We just need to sort them out.”
              “Good man.”  Charlie looked up at the tattered sails and rigging.  “Someone get that damn white flag down.  Everyone else needs to get their asses aloft and get those sheets down.”
    The mate grabbed Charlie’s arm.  “I’m in charge here.”
    “Then take command,” she said pulling her arm free.  “But understand this; the Arcadia belongs to Dr. Kirk and me.  You are in my employ.  I will leave the day to day running of this ship in your hands for now, and you will get the captain’s cut and pay, but I have the final say in regard to the big decisions.”
    “We can discuss this later,” Byron stated.
    “With your permission, I’d like to prepare my father for his burial.”
    “Granted,” he said.
    Charlie turned away from him looking for Benjy to help her carry her father’s body below.
    “When you’re finished you can start cleaning out his quarters.”
    Charlie lunged, tackling Lionel Byron.  She lifted the mate’s shoulders, neck and head off the deck then slammed them back down.  “Show some respect.  His body’s not even cold yet.  That is not your cabin.  You are only acting captain.  Whether it is ever yours will be based on your performance.”

 
     
     
    7
     
    The crew gathered at the railing as six of the longest serving crew members carried John Sinclair’s shrouded body on a wide board into