Grantville Gazette 38

Chapter Forty-Two: Victory Lap

"Let's go ashore. Bosun, you are with me. Gun crews, stay on watch. Come, Dore, let's go ashore." Pam shed her white robes and straightened her royal blue, gold embroidered Chinese jacket, the Swedish colors which she wore with pride. They had adopted her and she had accepted their kinship; she was one of them now. She pushed wisps of loosened hair back behind her ears, and stood up straight. Dore grinned at her as she carried the colonial flag she had made, now fastened to eight feet of bamboo pole. Pam slapped her friend on the back just the way the men always did to each other and led her and the Bosun down onto the dock.

The doctor had returned, and seemed satisfied with his work on the Lojtnant, who was visibly more at ease, his leg smothered in bandages.

"How is he, Doctor Durand? Pam asked him politely, having decided the man was indeed who and what he said he was. His warm, brown eyes were full of relief that she had accepted him.

"I may have saved his leg; we will know better tomorrow. Even so, he will never run again and will need to use a cane to walk. I'm afraid his days as a fighting soldier are over."

"Perhaps. I have a job in mind for him where that won't pose too much of a problem. I'm claiming the Effrayant for the crown of Sweden for use in guarding this colony. She will need a captain." She looked down at the Lojtnant, whose hazel eyes brightened at her words. "She is yours to command if you will have her, my friend." Pam told him, her voice trembling with pride just to be a friend of this brave man before her, a man who would have gladly sacrificed his life for their cause this day, and almost had.

Lundkvist looked up and gave her an exhausted but happy smile. "It will be my honor. Thank you, Captain Pam. Your deeds today will never be forgotten. You truly are our hero."

The Lojtnant's praise made Pam's eyes mist up, but she fought back the joyful tears, and put a stern face on. There was another person she needed to speak to before any celebrating could take place. She turned to the doctor again. "Come with me. There is a woman on shore who needs you right away. Once you do what you can for those most badly injured. I want you to see to a young boy on my ship. He fell from the rigging yesterday and I fear for him. He is dear to me and if you make him well you can consider me your new best friend."

The doctor bowed to her with courtly grace, and fell in behind her.

They walked past the rows of captives. Pam came to a stop over the corrupt captain, the architect of all their suffering. His reckoning day was near. He was the helpless captive now, a tyrant deposed. He eyed her uncomfortably from his trussed-up position, cold, frightened sweat beading on his face.

"Hey, fuck-head!" Her voice seared the air with a heat she hadn't known was within her, a voice that could burn an evil man like this with its very sound. His eyes were bleary, swimming with dread. Pam found she relished his fear, it was delicious. She pressed the pointy tip of the odd, patent leather Chinese shoe she wore into the captain's long nose, making him grimace. "I'm going to see to it that you pay for what you have done here, do you hear me? Pay! Your worthless, scumbag life now depends on how many ways you find to make yourself useful to me. We'll start with a full account of just who you and those slave-master fuckers doing your dirty work are, or, in their case, were. If you don't tell me everything I want to know, I'll throw you to those people you have been torturing for all these months, and laugh while they tear your arms and legs off. I'll make sure they do it nice and slow, too. So, capitan, we'll talk later, at my convenience. Asshole."

The thoroughly humiliated villain didn't even try to speak, just nodded his assent as best he could with Pam's shoe smashing his considerable nose. Pam sneered at him, then walked on, her steel-gray eyes glittering with wrath and exultation, chin held high, hardly believing these things were happening and that it was she herself who was making them happen. Who are you and whatever did you do with meek and mild birdwatcher Pam Miller of Grantville, West Virginia? a voice in her head mused. Oh, she's still around, but right now it's a bad-ass warrior-queen of the Norsemen we need, so shush up, it's time for the victory lap!

They stepped onto the shore before the rescued Swedish colonists. Pam suddenly grew shy and stopped. Pam's fighting men, their orange-skin now smeared with blood, grinned at her like fools. She winced as she counted them, yes, some were missing. There would be time for mourning later. Her heart swelled as they came, led by Gerbald, to stand beside her, showing their loyalty and love.

"Who is she, who is she?" the colonists whispered to each other.

Then, Pam saw Bengta among the crowd, watching from her stretcher, sea-green eyes full of triumph despite her pain. Pam ran to her, towing the doctor behind her. She gently took the young woman's hand. "Oh, Bengta, I am so sorry. What have they done to you? It's all my fault!"

Bengta smiled at her, gripping Pam's hand back with what was left of her strength. Pam tried not to look at the woman's awful wounds, the doctor was already muttering prayers under his breath as he went to work.

"No, Pam, you have saved us. If you hadn't come who knows how long we would have suffered? You gave us hope, made us brave."

The women attending the grievously wounded young woman turned their tear streaked faces up to Pam. "Please, who are you?" they asked.

"Why, don't you recognize her?" Despite the pain of the effort Bengta spoke in a loud voice so all could hear, "She is our own Pam Miller, the Bird Lady of Grantville who led our expedition from the start! She has revealed to us that she has the heart of an eagle, the courage of a lion! She is our hero, the liberator of all our people here on this lonely isle so far around the world from old Sweden, this beautiful paradise which we will make our home!" Pam saw looks of recognition and adulation forming on their haggard faces.

Pam found her voice and spoke up. "Thank you my friend, but it is you who are the true hero. It was brave Bengta here who led you to fight for your freedom! All hail Bengta!" she cheered at the top of her lungs, so that it rang all around the harbor. The crowd took up her cry and then added "All hail Pam Miller! All hail the Bird Lady!" to the chant.

All of this made Pam smile broadly; a rakish, fearless, kind of smile, one that she was quite sure she had never felt on her face before. She found it quite to her liking though, and wore it as she was enfolded into the embrace of her joyous people.