Chapter 7

"I am surprised at you Ibrahim," Pedro muttered absentmindedly as he moved about the poop deck of the Virago, tending to the matter of commanding the vessel. "I thought you trusted me."

Pedro's words lacked any resentment or anger in them, but they did bring back memories of the earlier hours of the day to both men. Both Pedro and Ibrahim had risen well before the sun had graced the eastern sky. Ibrahim had slipped from Pedro's official residence to meet up with Ishmael and Bartholomew by the Hawk. He had even forsaken morning prayers when the crier sang out the call to worship. Pedro on the other hand had been slower in his departure from his residence. It had taken effort for him to forsake the comfort of his bed and the satiny embrace of Asmara. Yet in the end Pedro had done so. He had kissed her good-bye for the day and he had promised to return to her that evening. The luscious black girl had said nothing in return. She had however lain upon Pedro's bed and she had watched her master dress and arm his person, silently wondering what fate awaited him that day.

"I do trust you Pedro," the old man protested, red-faced as he spoke. "It is just that ... well, I was concerned about you, considering your reaction yesterday and I felt I should make myself available today just in case you wanted to talk."

Pedro didn't respond immediately to his old teacher's protest. Instead he paused for a moment to speak to the pilot, Hans, who was standing by the helmsman. They chatted quickly and then Pedro turned back to his old teacher and smiled.

"So you shadowed me since I rose this morning," Pedro stated in a good humoured manner, "and kept a watch on me so I couldn't sneak aboard the Hawk and sail off with Bartholomew to enjoy the pleasures of Gwato."

It had never been his intent to go to Gwato on the Hawk, Pedro reflected as his old teacher began to open his mouth in protest. His friends hadn't known that, and all of them had kept a sharp eye on him that morning when he had shown up on the jetty. In truth, Pedro smiled inwardly as he remembered that moment, his only interest that morning had been in preparing the Virago for sea.

"Pedro..." Ibrahim started to say in protest before he was suddenly cut off.

"Then you followed me onboard this vessel," Pedro chuckled, pausing to pat his old teacher on the arm as he did, "so that you could be certain that I did not get into any trouble."

That wasn't completely true. Ibrahim had stood on the jetty with Ishmael and the old man and the soldier had watched as Pedro had taken charge of the crew of the Virago. His first act had been to muster the company and inspect them. If Pedro found a man he wasn't pleased with, Pedro dismissed the man and he sent for a replacement. It had taken time, time enough for Bartholomew and the Hawk to slip lines and to row out of the lagoon, but Pedro had insisted on it. In the end, Pedro had added ten extra men to the crew. More importantly Pedro had added Ibrahim and his manservant, Salem.

That had surprised both Ibrahim and Ishmael and it had made them question Pedro's motives, especially since Pedro had insisted that Salem bring the weapon with him that he had used so proficiently in the taking of the Virago. While Ibrahim had gone in search of his servant, Pedro had focused on provisioning the ship. Food, water, and armaments were brought onboard, just in case they were needed.

"Pedro, my boy," Ibrahim declared, denying the implication of his master's words, "it is nothing like that. I was just concerned for you and I wanted to be here if you needed to talk."

Pedro smiled back at his old teacher. Ibrahim's face had a tired, frustrated look to it. It was a face that Pedro was very familiar with. Ibrahim had had that look often in the past when Pedro had gotten up to no good. Pedro knew that his old teacher meant what he was saying. He also knew that he was right about what his old teacher was up to. Regardless about how concerned he was about Pedro's feelings, he was more concerned about Pedro doing something foolish. That was actually fine with Pedro because he knew the old man really cared.

"It is fine Ibrahim," Pedro said in a reassuring manner, as he walked past his old teacher and he stepped over to the portside railing of the Virago's poop deck. There he pulled out a spy-glass once more and he started scanning the shoreline. As he did, he went on. "I know and I understand your concern my old friend. Yes I was annoyed last night when the three of you ganged up on me however I got over it quickly enough. As you and the others pointed out, I have responsibilities and I need to focus on them and not on having fun whenever the opportunity comes up. Still, you and the others will have to be patient with me. I'm still learning, you understand."

"I do indeed understand, Pedro," Ibrahim admitted with a sigh of relief, "and I will pray to Allah that you will learn and that I will remain patient while you are doing it."

"If god wills it," Pedro murmured back to his old teacher, still focused upon scanning the shoreline and the water between it and the ship, "it shall be so."

As he spoke, a lookout in the crows-nest cried out, "Sail-ho!"

The Virago had sailed south that morning upon leaving the safety of the lagoon and the jetty at Eko. Pedro had left much of the work to Han van Holien, the lowlander pilot. He had discussed a course with the man and had made it known where he wanted the Virago to sail, but after that Pedro had let the man be, except to speak to him from time to time to make course corrections. Those corrections had taken the Virago south-east eventually until their portside was lying off the coast of Africa. Now they had come about and they were tacking against the wind in an effort to beat their way home.

"Where?" Pedro shouted loudly, once he had dashed towards the front of the poop deck so he could yell up to the lookout,

"To the fore, Captain," the man cried back down to him, "on the landward side. I see six sails in total."

"What colour are the sails?" Pedro called up to the man. "Can you make them out?"

"Aye Captain," the man shouted back down to him. "The sails are all black."

On hearing Pedro hurried down the gangway to the main deck of the Virago and then ran to its forecastle. Once there he paused again and brought the spy-glass that he had been carrying to his eye. He took a long look at the sails of the vessels ahead of his ship. Once he had looked at them he turned back towards the main deck and called out to the lookout again.

"Do you sea any other sails?" Pedro asked impatiently.

For a moment there was only silence as the lookout glanced about, searching the waters about the ship. Then the man looked down and replied.

"Aye Captain," the man stated in a hurried voice, "there are now sails to our stern and they are also black."

Pedro flew into action upon hearing those words. Quickly he ran the length of the main deck again and then he scrambled up to the poop deck. Once there he looked over to the ship's bugler and with a smile shouted orders to him:

"Bugler," Pedro commanded almost with pleasure in his voice, "call the company to action."

At that the youth began piping the crew to their stations, sounding the call to action and battle. It caused everyone on watch to jump with surprise and for those with Pedro to look at him with wonder.

"What is going on Pedro," Ibrahim asked looked both alarmed and confused. "Why are you sounding the crew to battle? Those craft can't be anything more than fishing boats."

"That is where you are wrong my old teacher," Pedro said with a broad grin upon his face. "I spoke to Omar shortly after our arrival in Eko and he told me of a nuisance in these waters. It seems that there have been pirate attacks upon trading canoes coming up the coast from the Kingdom of Kongo and against a few unlucky merchant ships caught in the coastal waters. Those pirates' sail craft that use black sails to identify them to any they fall upon. That is why I've called the ship to action."

Ibrahim looked at Pedro with his mouth open and his face displaying his disbelief at what his former pupil had just told him. It took more than a moment or two for him to come to terms with the incredulous new information and even then Ibrahim had difficult accepting it. By the time Ibrahim snapped out of it, Pedro was scurrying about issuing orders.

"Coxswain," Pedro shouted down to the man who was overseeing the men as they scrambled onto the main deck of the Virago, "prepare the ship to repel a boarding attempt. I want swivel guns mounted on the railings. Have the guns manned and loaded and I want a party of snipers on both the main deck under your command and on the poop deck under mine."

"Aye Captain," the coxswain shouted back up to Pedro before turning back to the ship's company and ordering them into action. While the coxswain saw to Pedro's orders, Pedro turned his attention to Dieter who he had brought along on the trip. The man had come to the poop deck upon hearing the call to action.

"All right Dieter," Pedro told the man bluntly, "it is time to prove your worth to me. Get your gun to the forecastle and man the bow chasers. I want you to hold your fire until we've closed with these brigands, but when I give you the order to fire; I want every shot to count. Do you understand?"

"Aye Captain," the young German gunner replied in stilted Portuguese, "I understand."

"Then get to it Dieter," Pedro commanded, "and remember to wait for my command."

With that Dieter took off back down the stairs that led up to the poop deck and then he hurried across the main deck of the Virago to the forecastle of the vessel and the pair of bow chasers that were mounted there. As he did, a party of four snipers joined Pedro on the poop deck.

"Estefan," Pedro snapped to the lead man in the group, "spread your men about the aft railing and keep and eye on the craft coming up behind us. If you spot anyone getting too close to the Virago, open fire."

"Aye Captain," the tall, older soldier shouted back in response before following his captain's orders.

"Pedro," Ibrahim murmured softly as Pedro paused but a few feet away from him, looking about at the activity of the ship's company, "is this for real?"

Pedro turned and looked with curiosity at his old teacher. For a moment the young captain looked be at a loss for words. Then a broad smile formed on Pedro's face and he stepped over to where Ibrahim was standing and he clapped his hand on the man's shoulders.

"Yes my old teacher," Pedro chuckled in a good natured manner, "this is all real. I am sorry for taking you by surprise, but if truth be told, I was concerned that you and Ishmael would refuse to let me sail today if I had told you what I was up to, here aboard the Virago."

"But," Ibrahim gasped still not believing what he was hearing, "this means you planned this from the start. You fooled us all."

"Of course I fooled you all, my friend," Pedro declared still immensely happy with himself, "and I would love to talk more about it, but matters are unfolding quickly. For now, believe me when I say that the craft coming at us and pursuing us are pirates and I intend to deal with them. To succeed in that task I will need your help and that of Salem's. Afterwards, once we have returned to Eko, we can talk about this in detail."

"Of course Pedro," Ibrahim exclaimed, taking to heart the urgency in his young master's voice. "What do you wish of Salem and I?"

"I want you below in the captain's cabin," Pedro stated firmly, pointing with his hand as he told Ibrahim what he wanted of him, "armed with that wonderful weapon of yours. My intent is to let the brigands close with us. When they are close enough, I want you and Salem to sink as many craft as possible. Can you do that for me?"

"Most certainly my boy," Ibrahim declared, now alert and ready to act. "I will see to it immediately."

As Ibrahim fled the poop deck and headed below to find his manservant and to do what Pedro had asked him, Pedro pulled his spy-glass from his belt and he paused once more to pan it over the waters that surrounded the Virago. By now he could easily see the craft closing on the ship from astern. Four of the craft were small eight men pirogues; vessels that weren't really a threat to the Virago. With them there were two large trading canoes. From the distance between them Pedro estimated that they were crewed by at least a score of men. More over it looked like at least one of them had a small cannon mounted in its bow. That could prove a problem.

"Hans," Pedro cried out to the pilot as he turned to head foreword again, "hold your course until I order otherwise. Be prepared to defend the ship."

"Aye Captain," the pilot cried back as Pedro disappeared down the stairs that led to the main deck.

Pedro headed towards the forecastle as quickly as he could. As he went he observed the preparations underway to defend the ship. Swivel guns had been mounted on both sides of the ship and they were manned and loaded and the crew manning them were waiting for the order to fire. There were also two parties of snipers manning the railings who were armed with both muskets and pistols. As for the remainder of the crew, they were under the control of the coxswain and the quartermaster. They were all armed with sword and pistol and all looked ready for action.

As Pedro mounted the stairs to the forecastle a shot rang out over the waters. The shot had not come from Dieter and his gun crews. They were still standing at their stations waiting for Pedro's command. The shot had come from one of the approaching craft. Immediately Pedro stopped and watched as a cannonball dropped a ship's length in front of the Virago. On seeing it, Pedro turned back towards the main deck and shouted out to the coxswain.

"Strike the sails," Pedro ordered in a firm, booming voice, "and prepare the crew to fight."

Immediately the coxswain shouted back his acknowledgement and then he turned about and gave the order to his deck crew. As he and the crew struck the sails, Pedro turned back to his gunner.

"That was close Dieter," Pedro told the young man in a serious manner, "and I don't want those bastards getting any closer. Do you think you can sink that big canoe for me?"

"Aye Captain," Dieter replied, once more in stilted Portuguese, "on your command."

"Then do it man," Pedro ordered without hesitation, "and get the job done."

At that Dieter and his men jumped into action. With one or two adjustments of the bow chasers position and a shift in the guns elevation, Dieter touched off his guns, firing the starboard cannon first. With a resounding boom, the gun spat out the cannonball and it threw it towards the oncoming craft. Even as the first cannonball arced through the air, Dieter touched off the second cannon.

The first cannon ball struck a direct hit. It fell on the bow of the canoe that had been carrying the cannon that had engaged them. The second cannonball tore through the craft's sail shearing its mast and then it carried" on to plough through the stern of the craft. With that the pirate craft capsized without firing another shot.

"Excellent," Pedro cried out enthusiastically on seeing the results of Dieter's and the gun crew's work. "Now keep it up until you've sunk them all."

Pedro did not stay to hear Dieter's reply. Instead he went back towards the stern of the vessel, pausing from time to time to check on the preparations. Satisfied he returned to the poop deck just in time to hear another cannon speaking, this time from astern.

Alerted by the sound of the cannon Pedro hurried towards the aft railing and the men standing there staring out towards the approaching craft. He arrived just in time to see a plume of water rise up where the cannonball fired at them plopped into the sea. It had fallen just short of the ship and Pedro paused for a moment to contemplate what action to take now that the second group of boats were within striking range of the Virago. With the ship's sails now struck, there was no way to manoeuvre the carrack, except by allowing the coastal waters to carry the vessel along. That alone was a dangerous proposition, but it was one that Pedro had decided to risk in his effort to confront the pirates. By looking helpless, he hoped to draw them in so that his crew could dispatch them with ease, rather than driving them back into hiding with a display of excessive force.

Pedro's thoughts were suddenly drawn back to the drama of the moment by another cannon spitting out a shot towards the Virago. This ball struck the stern of the carrack but that was it. It did not even embed itself into the wood of the hull. Instead it just bounced off. The shot had been too small and the distance too great to do any real damage.

The attacking boats were however close enough for Salem to retaliate and Pedro learned this only a moment later. As he brought his spy-glass up to inspect the approaching craft, to determine how great a threat the lead canoes were, he witnessed one of them exploding. The blast had occurred suddenly and without any indication that it was about to happen. The explosion split the canoe in two and quickly sent it to the bottom. Then to Pedro's greater surprise the second canoe exploded as well.

"What happened?" Pedro muttered aloud, speaking to no man in particular.

"It was your Moor and his servant, Dom Pedro," Estefan informed him. The old soldier was standing to Pedro's right, armed with his musket and pistol. "They fired their exploding balls into the oncoming craft and ... boom, they destroyed the pirates' leading canoes. It was spectacular to see."

"It was indeed," Pedro muttered in reply, a smile crossing his lips as his mind made sense of what he had seen and what he had just been told. Once more he was very pleased with the weapon that his old teacher had brought with him. Satisfied with that thought, Pedro brought his spy-glass back up to see how the pirates would now react.

The lead craft of the remaining pirate vessels had halted their pursuit of the Virago. Instead they were busy trying to rescue their fellows from the sunken canoes. Pedro could see a number of men bobbing about in the water, desperately clinging to anything that floated. He cursed silently to himself as he watched those men being pulled from the bay.

"Keep watch here," Pedro ordered as he turned away from the aft railing, speaking once more to no one in particular, "and deal with the bastards if they get too close."

"Aye Captain," Estefan replied, speaking for his men.

Pedro moved quickly away from the railing and he walked over to the starboard side of the poop deck. There he glanced quickly up the length of that side of the Virago, taking in the action coming from the fore of the ship. His eyes spotted two pirogues closing on the Virago. The crew of the small craft were straining at their oars and they were almost side-by-side with the carrack. Pedro also saw that they didn't get much further. The crews manning the swivel guns mounted on the starboard railings opened fire, one after the other, just as the smaller craft came within range. The effect was spectacular to watch.

The swivel guns were loaded with shot rather than ball. The shot tore through the black sails that identified the vessels and they slammed into the backs of the two foremost rowers in each of the approaching pirogues. The men were torn to pieces just like the sailcloth that had stood between them and the weapon that had fired upon them and their dying bodies were pitched forward into the men seated before them. As the blast of the swivel guns did their work, snipers leaned over the railing and fired as well. Soon more pirates were dying under the hail of shot put out by the defenders and some in fear of their lives, threw themselves into the sea.