The Pirate Raiders

by C. G. Mosley

  We entered the building and once inside, it seemed that the previous night of hard living had taken its toll on many of The Blue Dolphin’s patrons. There were pirates sleeping on top of tables, and some were even lying underneath them. The few that were awake were cradling their sore heads and I wasn’t sure if the soreness they seemed to be experiencing was from a hard night of drinking or fighting. I was not about to ask either. Despite the gloomy setting, there was still a young fellow in the corner of the room sitting upon a stool. There was a large hat upon his head with what appeared to be a peacock feather protruding from the band. He was strumming on a stringed instrument a melody far too joyous for the current mood in the room, and underneath his thin mustache, there was a toothy smile that seemed just as out of place. No one seemed to be paying him any mind.

  Andrea marched straight to the bar and when the bartender noticed her approaching, I saw something in his eyes that I wasn’t expecting. He suddenly seemed very nervous. He recognized her and did not seem to be thrilled to see her. The bartender was a short, portly man. He was bald, save the horseshoe band of dark brown hair that wrapped around the sides and back of his head. He, like the musician, had a mustache, but his was much fuller and it seemed to take the attention off of the top of his shiny, bald head. He wore a blue cotton shirt that matched the color of the dolphin on the outdoor sign, and a white apron over the top of that. Andrea opened her mouth to speak to him, but it was I that spoke first. I took a seat at the bar and promptly ordered a drink.

  “Bartender, I’ll have a glass of your finest win, sir,” I declared as I slapped a piece of eight down on the counter top.

  The bartender quickly filled my request and my golden coin disappeared with a swipe of his hand. He then turned his attention back to Andrea. She in turn was still looking at me, annoyance all over her face. I returned a smirk and then took a pull from the glass in front of me.

  “How are you, Willie?” she asked the bartender in a cheerful tone that sounded forced.

  “Doing quite well…busy, but well,” he replied calmly. “Can I get you a drink, Andrea?”

  She shook her head. “No, not here to drink, Willie,” she said.

  Willie wiped his hands on his apron and then took a seat behind the counter. He then reached underneath the counter and I noticed Andrea’s right hand move quickly to her pistol. Willie saw the gesture too and he swiftly returned his hand to the top of the counter again. In said hand, Willie clutched a green bottle by the neck. Andrea relaxed and watched as he worked the cork out and proceeded to pour himself a drink. Then, with a shaky hand, he put the cup to his lips. After his thirst had been quenched, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said, “So how can I help you today, Andrea?”

  “I’m looking for my uncle,” she replied.

  Willie seemed taken aback. “You don’t know where he is?”

  Andrea smiled sheepishly, but only for a moment. “I haven’t been the best niece, Willie,” she answered, and then her mood turned serious. “Do you know where he is or not?”

  Willie shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I do not. However, I believe that gentleman over there may be able to assist you,” he said, pointing to darkened corner of the room.

  I could see the figure of a man—an old man—seated in that darkened corner, but it was impossible to make out anything else about him.

  “There are no ‘gentlemen’ to be found in this establishment,” Andrea replied. “Who is he?”

  “That there is one of the meanest scallywags in all of New Providence,” Willie replied. “He’s not one to trifle with.”

  “He’s an old man,” Andrea said, dismissing any notion that he could be dangerous. “Does he have a name?”

  “Aye, I’m sure he does, but all anyone ever calls him is ‘The Captain’.”

  I squinted my eyes in a futile attempt to get a better look at the mysterious old man. Now my own curiosity was peaked. “So how exactly do you know that this man is dangerous?” I asked, sliding my now empty glass over to Willie.

  He reached for the bottle of wine again and looked my way. When I shook my head he returned the bottle under the counter and then wiped down the counter where my glass had been sitting.

  “I’m a bartender, sir,” he replied to me. “I don’t just pour drinks. I’m a professional listener. I listen when people have no idea that I’m listening. I’ve heard plenty of stories about The Captain. He’s a former pirate captain and one of the meanest there ever was.”

  “Well if he’s a former pirate captain then surely he knows my father,” Andrea said.

  “Aye, he definitely knows your father,” Willie said quickly. “And I strongly suggest you don’t tell him that you’re Winston’s daughter!”

  “I don’t understand, why not,” I asked.

  “No, he’s probably right,” Andrea answered. “There aren’t many people that are friends with my father.”

  “No, you’re not following me,” Willie said. “He has a history with your father. He despises your father. There’s a lot of bad blood there.” Willie paused a moment in thought. “Come to think of it, it’s probably not a good idea for you to go and speak to him at all. I’ll find someone else that may know the whereabouts of Morgan.”

  “No,” I said abruptly. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll go talk to him.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” Andrea said. “I can speak for myself.”

  She turned to walk toward the old man but I grabbed her by the arm.

  “Don’t be a bloody fool,” I snapped. “Take a seat at the bar and give me five minutes.”

  Andrea looked down at my hand on her arm and I saw that familiar flash of anger. I gently released her arm before it got worse. She then turned her attention back to the old man, and then back to me again. “Okay,” she agreed. “I suppose it could cause a scene if he discovered who I was.”

  “Right, and we don’t need the attention. Give me five minutes and then we’ll be on our way.”

  She nodded, and then said, “Before we go any further with this I need you to understand that you cannot go with me to confront my uncle.”

  “Why the devil not?”

  “I don’t have to give you any reasons, Redd,” she replied. “He’s my uncle and I prefer to discuss the matter of my father alone with him. However, if you must know, he is not going to tell me where my father’s chest is with you there. He does not know you and will not trust you.”

  “And suppose he doesn’t want to give you the whereabouts of the chest. You said yourself that the only other man that knows its location is your uncle. What if you ask him about the chest and he reacts in a way that you do not expect? What if he reacts violently?”

  “He is my uncle you scug,” she snapped. “If you’re making these assumptions based on the behavior of my father, then you are mistaken.”

  “Alright, so what will you do if he refuses to tell you where the chest is?” I asked.

  “Then I’ll persuade him,” she replied with an icy stare.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” said Willie suddenly. “But The Captain seems to be leaving.”

  Andrea and I both looked around just in time to see the old man disappear out the door.

  “Give me five minutes,” I told Andrea as I retreated after him.

  I charged into the street outside. It was beginning to get noticeably busier than it was when Andrea and I had first arrived. I spotted the old man moving quickly down the street and then abruptly dart around a corner into an alleyway. I, rather carelessly, jogged after him and once I’d entered the alleyway I soon realized just how careless I’d been. The old man was standing before me with his pistol pointed straight toward my chest. He was tall and dressed in all black. He had a large hat with a wide brim pulled down low on his face. I could just barely make out his eyes in the shadows. The long coat he wore looked expensive and he had a black cape draped across his back.

  “Take it easy, mate,” I said in a voice just above a whisper. “I
mean you no harm; I just wanted to ask you a question.”

  The old man cackled and there was nothing friendly about his laugh. His eyes narrowed and he took a step forward. “Do you think I’m a fool, Redd? You’ve come to kill me…that’s why you’re here. I may be old now but I still have me wits. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you and that pretty blonde lass plotting at the bar? I watched the whole thing. I caught the two of you watching me.”

  For a moment I was very confused. The man seemed to know who I was and his erratic behavior and movements suggested that he even feared me…but why? I bit my lip as I concentrated hard on the man’s face. The more I looked the more it seemed there was something vaguely familiar about my assailant.

  “Old man, have you gone daft?” I asked. “Although you look slightly familiar, I do not know who you are. Tell me your bloody name so that I may make some sense out of this predicament.”

  The old man moved his head in such a way that I got my first good look at his eyes. They were yellowed from scurvy, but more interesting than that, I could see the bewilderment in them as well. He seemed surprised that I did not recognize him and I assumed he was mulling over even telling me his name. I kept waiting for a moment in which he would lower his weapon, but the moment never came.

  “You truly don’t know who I am, lad?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry sir but I do not. Me and the pretty lass you spoke of came into the tavern looking for someone. We asked the bartender and he directed us to you. That’s why we were watching you.”

  “I see,” the old man said, and he seemed to relax a bit. However, the pistol remained pointed directly at me. “Well, who are you looking for?”

  “A man named Morgan Trimble. He sailed under Captain Kidd and after he escaped the gallows he settled down here.”

  The old man smiled, and there was no mistaking the relief upon his tired and weathered face. “I see…well, as it chances, I do know where you can find Morgan,” he said.

  “Good, well tell me where he is and I’ll be on my way.”

  “What do you want with Morgan?”

  My jaw clenched as I tried to think of an answer. I wasn’t expecting him to question me on why I needed to see Morgan.

  “Well, actually I’m not the one that needs to see him. The birdie in the bar has business with him,” I said.

  The old man cocked his head sideways as he tried to understand. “She’s a hussy?”

  “No, you numbskull; not that sort of business! Her business with Mr. Trimble is none of your concern. Just tell me where we may find him and I’ll be on my way.”

  “You’re mighty bossy, lad,” he replied. “Seeing how you’re on the other end of my pistol and all I’d expect you to be a tad more respectful.”

  I said nothing because if I’d said what I wanted to say, I believed the scoundrel would’ve gone on and put a ball between my eyes. He eyed me for a long moment and when he was satisfied I was not going to say anything else, he said, “Return to the docks and look for a dirt trail that begins behind the blacksmith’s shop. Follow that trail until you reach the top of the hill. That’s where the homestead of Morgan Trimble will be. Now get out of my sight before I have to waste a perfectly good ball on your rotten carcass.”

  It was at that moment that Andrea appeared at the entrance to the alleyway. The old man stood his ground and continued to point his weapon at me.

  “What’s going on here?” Andrea asked, surprised to see a gun pointed at me.

  “I have the situation under control,” I said calmly.

  “It doesn’t look like it,” she replied. “Did he tell you where to find Morgan?”

  “Aye, he did,” I answered. I told her what the old man had said.

  “Very good.” She then looked toward the man in black. “Thank you kind sir,” she said.

  With that, the man took off his hat and gave a slight nod. He finally lowered the weapon and began to slink away further into the alley. As he turned away I suddenly glimpsed something that I had not noticed the entire time I’d been speaking with him…something that had been covered by the very large hat upon his head. He only had one eyebrow.

  “Alright, I’m going to go speak to my uncle and I’m going to do it alone, Redd,” Andrea stated, fully expecting me to argue with her again. Had I not just experienced a startling revelation, I probably would have argued fiercely to go with her, but fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) for her I now had something far more important to do at the present time.

  “Okay, you go ahead,” I said, still watching the man in black walking away. “I’ll meet you at the docks when you’re done.”

  Andrea had opened her mouth and no doubt had a retort ready for disposal. When she finally processed what I’d said, she stared at me a moment and then back to the man in black.

  “Redd, who is that man?” she asked.

  “His name is Charles Higgins,” I replied. “He’s the man that murdered my father.”

  Chapter 12 :

  As I chased after my father’s murderer, I felt my pulse quicken substantially. I felt as if I’d never ran faster in all of my life and as I drew near my target, he turned his head and spotted me. He then took off running but it was a pointless effort. I easily tackled the man to the ground. His hat flew from his head and I heard his skull collide with the cobblestone when he fell. He lay on his back, undoubtedly woozy from the blow he’d just taken, but he was still conscious enough to reach for his pistol. The gun was lying about a foot away from his hand, and I wasted no time kicking the weapon out of his reach. I then straddled over him and put my blade to his throat. We were still in the alleyway and there was no one within ear shot to help him. His life was completely in my hands now.

  “Mr. Higgins, I’ve waited all my life for this moment,” I whispered to him.

  The fear in his eyes was very apparent and it surprised me to see such emotion from the leech that lay before me.

  “Redd, my boy,” he said, almost gasping. “I knew you’d recognize me…I just knew it.”

  “I could never forget the eyes of such a vile creature like you,” I growled, pressing the blade ever so slightly tighter on his throat.

  Higgins grabbed my wrists with both hands and tried to push the blade back, but to no avail. “I always knew this day would eventually come as well,” the wretched old man said, and then he began to sob. “I swear to you boy, if I could take back what I did to your father, I would. I swear it upon my soul!”

  “You have no soul!” I snapped through clenched teeth. “You’re a monster!”

  “Aye,” he sobbed. “I am…I am…’tis true, it is! Please take pity on me boy!”

  As Charles Higgins began to blubber like a baby in front of me, I felt myself feeling an emotion I never would have believed I’d feel in that moment. I felt pity and I hated myself for it. How could I possibly feel pity for a man that had killed my father in such a nightmarish fashion? How I could I feel pity for someone so brutal? As these thoughts washed over me, I felt myself releasing the tension on Higgins’s throat.

  “Where have you been all this time?” I asked.

  “After Captain Bloodbane died, and you left us, the men voted me captain of Dawnbreaker,” he said, still whimpering. “I had a good run and my men saw me a good captain, Redd. I dare say you’d have seen it so yourself, had you stayed with us.”

  With that suggestion, I hit him. “How dare you?” I snapped at him. I grabbed the collar of his coat and jerked him closer to my face. “I’ve heard the story about what happened to Dawn Breaker. Captain Trimble tracked the bloody ship down and turned it into splinters. He filleted the crew before he did it. If you were such a good captain, then why are you still alive? You should’ve died with the rest of those poor souls I knew so well.”

  Charles Higgins began to sob again and it was becoming hard to even understand what the man was saying. “I’m a coward Redd,” he said. “I jumped ship and left my men to die when I saw that there was
no hope in victory. I should’ve been dead myself…cannon balls turned the timber around me into kindling and before I knew it, I just jumped into the sea. I wrapped my arms around a cider barrel and floated away from the bloody carnage. I prayed Redd! I prayed that god Himself would see to it that I lived—and if He did, I swore to change my ways. I was picked up by a slave vessel that very afternoon, just before the sun disappeared. I’ve been a different man ever since—I have Redd, please believe me!”

  To my utter dismay, the pity that I felt for Charles Higgins did not waiver. I found myself despising the emotion even more, and it seemed the madder I got, the stronger my pity grew. No matter how I felt on the inside, I dared not let Higgins see it.

  “You were just pointing a pistol at me and the bartender told me you have a bad reputation around here. It doesn’t seem like you’ve changed all that much to me,” I said.

  “I wasn’t going to shoot, boy! When I recognized you, I assumed you’d come to kill me. I was only trying to scare you off. I mean you no harm. People in this town know of my history with Captain Trimble. Most men figure that if I was able to do experience his wrath and live to tell about it, then I must be a mean as he is. Truth is, I haven't done a lot to change their minds either; I just enjoy being left alone.”

  I stared at Higgins for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. The desire to kill the man had long since passed, but there was still anger present. I finally stood up and returned my cutlass to its scabbard. Higgins began to rise, but I quickly put a boot to his throat and forced him back down on the ground.

  “Do not get up until I’m long gone. If I ever see you again, I’m fairly certain I won’t be as forgiving as I have been today. You deserve to die, but judging by the looks of you, I’m confident that your time is not far away. God evidently did answer your prayers.”

  “He did! You see it with your own eyes,” he rasped.

  “Aye, I do,” I replied. “Since He answered your prayers, maybe I can get Him to answer mine as well. I think I’ll pray for Him to give you the slow painful death that you deserve. I want your dying breath to be as painful as my father’s was. I want his face to be the last thing you think of when you die.”