Bullet to the Downy

"Bugger..," thought Cutter. Here was one of the many thorns in his flesh back to haunt him from the proverbial mortician's table. If there is truly an Englishman who deserves a painful death, then it is Captain Elijah Downy. If misery had a mate, it would be Downy.

"Swack!" Captain Downy's rattan cane tasted the harded cheek of Cutter. The blow stung just as it was designed to do. Nothing more than that. Cutter straightened his head as Captain Downy's wicked, joyous smile spread stretchingly thin across his boney face.

The warm taste of iron crept across Cutter's taste buds as he glared at Captain Downy. If it weren't for these two marines and their seargant standing with the stocks of their muskets ready Cutter would unceremoniously throw this pompous and incompetent excuse for a King's man out of the window into the frigid waters below.

"Mister Campbell, it is so good to see you...again....", Captain Downy let the final word roll off his tongue with wicked, smug satisfaction. Here was a man that he finally had within his grasp to destroy, and even better, he would be within his rights as a Captain in the King's Navy.

"I do belive you were caught in the midst of a seditious act...is it so?"

Cutter steeled his resolve, he would bait Downy into his game. Downy certainly thought he had Cutter in an inescapeable condition. His confidence bolstered by the beaten and tattered condition of one Mr. Calais Campbell of His Majesty's Britannic Home Service. What kind of French name was Calais. Calais, the ladies in New Port had swooned when this handsome creature had disembarked from his ship in the colonies. The merchants had welcomed him like a man who had saved them from certain doom. All manner of people in the city had looked at him like he might have been the King himself...or at least his prince.

"Bam..." the rattan cane struck again.
"Bam.." and again. "There will be no mercy for you Mr. Cutter. You are a filthy flea who needs to be crushed. You are a stench in my nostrils!" screamed Captain Downy.

With each blow Cutter seemingly began to swoon. He allowed his legs to buckle and his eyes to roll. He let out low growls and moans of pain. The pain was real enough, sharp, but tolerable. Almost there he thought. The marines began to slacken their grasp on him. Blood was running down both cheeks now. The squeemish seargant began look at the rafters.

Now, Cutter pulled his right arm free, moved it forward then in one motion slammed it into the groin of the marine on his right. The marine on his left dropped his musket to get a better hold Cutter. The musket exploded in the cramped and tight Captain's room, temporarily deafing all in the room. Captain Downy was trying to pull out his sword, but Cutter used his momentum to swing the remain marine into Captain Downy. Just as Downy was pulling out his sword, it lodged in the marine and stuck.

Cutter ducked just in time to avoid a haymaker from the seargent. Swingly widely the seargent was off-balance. Cutter grabbed him by the belt as he passed by and rammed his head into the solid oak column that supported the room, effectively snapping his neck and dropping his body limp to the ground.

Captain Downy successfully untangled himself from the gurgling marine. The haze of musket smoke hung in the room. Footsteps were pounding outside the doorway. Cutter could take a few on at a time, but not the whole ship, not yet. He leaped to bar the doorway, just as Captain Downy yelled and swung a wild saber swing at Cutter. He missed badly and the curved blade flung from his hand. Cutter barred the door and turned back to Captain Downy. Downy, like a snake, slithered behind his desk and began to fumble with the top drawer.

A pistol firing was the last thing Cutter heard. It was also the last thing Captain Downy would hear as the musket ball sunk deep into his forehead. His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped back into his chair. Oddly, Cutter thought, he looked at peace.