Cutlass Anne

Cutlass Anne - Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-three

"What the bloody fuckin' 'ell was that!" Andrew screamed from somewhere on deck.

"That was us making our escape." Flynn stepped back as Scully took over.

"That there is also why he be the cap'n." Scully laughed, watching the horizon.

I pried my hands from the railing. "That was not funny, Scully."

Flynn flashed a coy smile at me. "Where is your sense of adventure, Anne?"

"I think I lost it back there along with my lunch," I muttered, putting my head on the cool wood in front of me.

"They're turning, cap'n," Scully said to Flynn.

"Once they're out of sight, head west until night, then we go on toward Port Royal."

"Will that be enough time?" Scully glanced behind us as the other ship approached faster than I liked.

"Plenty. The ship may look like an exact replica of The Gilded Lady, but it's not. We're slimmer and not carrying as much weight as them. We'll be fine. Head west till nightfall, then toward Port Royal."

"Aye, sir."

I walked over to Flynn, his hand resting on his shoulder. I could see a wet spot forming on the jacket. I pulled back part of it and saw a red stain quickly spreading across his chest. The wound reopened, and he was losing a lot of blood fast. He swayed a bit before falling to the deck in a heap.

"Doctor!" I screamed, pressing my hands onto his shoulder.

"What happened, miss?" Scully abandoned the wheel.

"His wound opened again, and he is bleeding badly. Where is Andrew?" I cried while pressing my hands onto the wound.

"I'm right here." He knelt down next to me. He pulled a knife out of a bag and sliced the shirt off Flynn's body.

"He's burning up again," I whispered, putting my hand on his head.

"I know."

I could not bear to take my eyes off Flynn. "What's wrong with him?"

"He was shot, and I don't have the proper medical equipment on this bloody awful ship to treat him properly. If we don't get to Port Royal soon, he's going to die."

"I thought you did fix him!" I whispered loudly.

"Hey, this bloody awful ship saved your arse." Flynn smiled deliriously. His head lolled from side to side, and he seemed to have problems keeping his eyes open.

"I was able to temporarily stabilize him and stop the bleeding. All I have on this wretched ship is bandage. I need to stitch him."

"Okay, so then all you need is a needle and thread," I said.

"You are so remarkable," Flynn said, reaching out for me.

"Stop moving around so much," I told him, pushing his hand down to his side.

"What they have will not work, not to mention nothing is sterilized. If he doesn't succumb to the fever and blood loss, an infection will take him," Andrew continued, pushing my hands out of the way and pressing harder with more cloth onto the wound.

"That hurts, doctor," Flynn whined.

"Dying hurts worse," Andrew mumbled.

Flynn's head suddenly flopped backward, and he did not move. He did not even try to move.

"What happened?" I asked, poking the side of Flynn's head.

"He passed out. Probably from a combination of the pain and the fever. I suppose for now that is best for him."

I sat back on my haunches and stared at Flynn's face. It was turning an awful ashen color. I leaned down and kissed his hot cheek. His eyes fluttered open for a moment. He smiled up at me and slipped into an unconscious state again.

I stroked his hair back. "How can one bullet do so much damage?"

"Sometimes that happens. It hits in just the right spot, and the wound doesn't heal properly."

"What am I going to do?"

"Keep to his plan. Head for Port Royal. Once we dock, he goes to a surgeon where I can operate on him in the proper environment. Right now he will be put back in bed. I'll stay with him and try to keep this fever down."

"All right. I'll stay up here and keep the men's spirits up and watch for The Cutlass. I know that bastard isn't going to just give up."

"Will he attack at Port Royal?" Andrew asked, working on the wounded shoulder.

"I doubt it. The king's navy uses the port as one of its mainstays. I would be surprised if he has the gall to attack anyone there."

I watched as Andrew heaved Flynn's limp body over his shoulder and headed for the small quarters below the helm. It was looking more likely that I would lose him and Jane. I slowly climbed to my feet and stood watching as the sun slowly crawled across the sky. There were no signs of John Jacks or his ship. No signs of land. No signs of anything. Just water upon water.

"Supper is ready, ma'am," a gravelly voice called from near the stairwell.

My stomach rumbled. I was famished but reluctant to leave my post. "Thank you," I replied tiredly.

"Go eat, ma'am." Ryder put a heavier jacket around my shoulders.

I smiled at him meekly. "Thank you."

"I'll take over. The sun is almost set, then I'll steer us north toward port."

"How long will it take us to get there?"

"A week."

"I hope Flynn lasts for a week," I mumbled, descending the stairs.

The ship was quiet. Aside from Ryder and the man in the crow's nest, everyone was below deck in their hammocks. I went into the room with Flynn and Andrew. I sat on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair out of Flynn's face. I lay my head on his chest and let my heavy eyelids slide close. I did not plan on falling asleep. I just wanted to listen to his heart for a bit. I had to make sure it was still beating, and it was. It was a gentle thumping that eased me into a deep slumber filled with dreams of fighting pirates while sailing off into the sunset victorious. Of course, Flynn was okay. There was nary a mark on him, and he was not on the verge of death.