Nightingale/Courtney: Bonus scene

As a special first post for this blog, and to celebrate the release of A Merciful Sea, I thought I would share a scene that never made it to the final manuscript of Leeward. In fact, it only exists in a proof copy that pre-dates Leeward getting picked up by Canelo, never getting past the first draft! 

Hope you enjoy! Please leave a comment if you do 🙂

“Mr Finley and Mr Burrows, I won’t have talk like that onboard the Scylla. It does not matter about our backgrounds, or who our father is now. This ship is our parent and teacher. You shall all learn the same whether you have money waiting for you or not. Lieutenant Courtney—“

Courtney turned. “Yes, sir,” he said, and then paused as he saw Nightingale extracting his sword from his belt. Nightingale took off his uniform coat and handed it to Rylance who was waiting eagerly to join the shooting practice.

“Mr Smythe, Mr Burrows, Mr Finley, Mr Evans – you can all watch from the same vantage point.”

Courtney blinked, surprised, but turned to Nightingale, adopting a duellist’s stance. Nightingale had done away with his officer’s dress-sword earlier and was now armed as the lieutenant was – a light, manoeuverable cutlass in his hand. Courtney stared at him, worry creasing his brows. “Don’t fret, Lieutenant,” Nightingale said with a smile. “You won’t hurt me.”

The form came naturally back to Nightingale. He raised his sword-arm, letting the blade drop downwards across his body. Courtney went to follow him, but before he could, Nightingale slashed the weapon across. Courtney stepped back. Nightingale smiled, let Courtney regain himself, and then performed the next cut – this time, an elegant sweep which ended as Courtney finally responded and their blades clashed.

“Do you see how I am protecting my body?” Nightingale asked the midshipmen. “The sword crosses in front of me, ensuring I am shielded throughout the move. And like this—”

This time, a strike from below, making a resounding ring as their swords connected.

“And this—”

He knocked Courtney’s sword away from the right-hand side, as effortlessly as if he was swatting a fly. Nightingale wondered if Courtney was holding back, not wanting to overstep and embarrass his captain. It made a profound difference from how Nightingale had seen him at the beginning of their voyage.

“From this point, as you see, I can parry a blow from many different directions,” Nightingale instructed. “And from here, it is also easy to strike.”

When their swords next clashed, Nightingale twisted his wrist and slipped his blade beneath Courtney’s extended arm, nudging it against his upper ribs. Whichever way Courtney came at him, Nightingale easily repelled him and touched his uniform with the cutlass’ point.

“This is all very simple,” Nightingale narrated again. “You can take advantage of your opening stance and no matter how your opponent tries to break it, you have a movement that will deter them.”

Pushing back Courtney once more, Nightingale turned to the midshipmen. Finley’s young face was shining and Burrows had at last stopped giggling. Their eyes were not the only ones on them anymore. Half of the men on deck had stopped their exercises to watch the captain and the first lieutenant.

“Of course,” Nightingale said, “when you board a ship, it is not a controlled duel between you and your enemy. That is where the cutlass is superior to other short swords. It is light but effective, and perfect for the cutting manoeuvres I have shown you. Lieutenant Courtney, let us combine some. Try and best me.”

Courtney did not hesitate now. With half of the crew staring at them, he lunged at Nightingale, bringing the sword up towards his shoulder. Nightingale turned his hand, letting the blade crash into the underside of Courtney’s. He used Courtney’s force against him and pressed backwards. From there, it was simple to strike at Courtney’s exposed torso. The lieutenant reacted quickly, slashing him away and skilfully sweeping the sword up to Nightingale’s chest. Nightingale smiled at the vigour he felt. Beyond their crashing weapons, the ship had fallen silent. Above, the wind was backing, shivering the canvas.

“Lieutenant Hargreaves, direct the foremast hands to reef the t’gallant!” he called, and parried back.

This time, Courtney came for his right hip. He took a step to the side and pushed the steel away with a quick flick. For a moment, he thought he had Courtney when the lieutenant leaned forward, his left side open as he pulled the sword back. He quickly echoed Nightingale’s evasive movement and raised the blade, crossing it in front of him, crashing it against Nightingale’s when he did the same. They pushed against each other in a teetering balance, feet braced on the deck. Nightingale felt a rolling wave coming, used its energy to shove Courtney backwards.

Courtney stood, breathing heavier. Nightingale nodded. “As you can see,” he began, but Courtney was not finished. He lunged forward suddenly. Nightingale had to react quickly, parrying his thrust. For the first time, he stepped backwards and Courtney came after him. Courtney slashed for his left shoulder then his right, the point of his blade shimmering in the sun. Nightingale’s body thrummed with energy as they fought across the width of the deck, blades clashing loudly, sparks flying. Marley and Barrett dashed out of their way.

Courtney knew he had surprised him. Again, Nightingale tried to use his force against him, letting him lunge and then neatly stepping to the side, making him stumble. Nightingale circled and drew his sword towards Courtney’s side. Courtney span, clattering his blade against the approaching steel, driving Nightingale’s arm into the air above him. Courtney had the advantage of his height, so it took nearly all of Nightingale’s strength to push him back down again. Sweat dribbled into his collar, heat flushing across his skin.

He stepped backwards, finding his stance once more. He noticed how Courtney tended to attack on a higher line, so this time, he was ready for him. Nightingale parried him away, let him do it again, and then in the moment between his repulse and the next strike, suddenly threw his sword into his other hand. Courtney fumbled. Nightingale struck his blade hard, pushing him back.

The lieutenant lost his rhythm. Nightingale found it.

He swatted the attacks away easily, letting the sword turn below Courtney’s extended arm. Courtney tried to parry but he was being pressed further and further towards the gunwales, running out of room. In a last desperate moment, he lunged closer to Nightingale’s collarbone, twisting his wrist for the move. Nightingale knocked it away, bending Courtney’s grip.

There was the satisfying sound of Courtney’s blade clattering on the deck – and the satisfying feeling of beating a man who had not even been born when Nightingale had joined the Navy.

Nightingale pressed the sword tip against Courtney’s chest, just beneath his throat. He was almost against the rail, hands reaching back to steady himself. His chest rose and fell quickly. A fierce blush had bloomed over his cheeks. The ship was utterly silent.

“As I was saying,” Nightingale breathed. “When you board another ship, there are no rules. Watch your opponent. Use his own moves against him.”

Slowly, he removed the sword from where it rested against Courtney’s chest. He bent, retrieved the fallen weapon, and pressed it back into Courtney’s hands. Their fingers brushed. A sharp thrill jolted through him.

Courtney nodded, his breath shuddering.