A Sea Too Far

by Hank Manley

  Warren studied Blackbeard as he strolled toward the side of the ship where Crowley was positioned to pass. He smiled at the captain’s obvious bellicose demeanor meant to intimidate potential foes.

  “Prepare a cannon to fire,” the pirate captain yelled. “And run up me flag.”

  The gunner loaded a ball in the central cannon on the main deck and inserted a load of powder. A second pirate stood by with a smoking stick to ignite the charge.

  The lookout in the mast scrambled to the top and launched Blackbeard’s personal pennant.

  Crowley sailed across the harbor on a predictable path toward the single channel leading to the ocean. When the vessel was two hundred yards from Queen Anne’s Revenge, Blackbeard shouted across the open water through a raised megaphone.

  “Heave to,” he called. “Drop thy sails and make fast to the bottom. I be coming aboard thy vessel.”

  Marty Read strolled across the main deck and joined Warren at the railing. The two friends watched with fascination as the helmsman aboard Crowley listened to Blackbeard’s words and absorbed the meaning of his demands.

  “What do you think he’ll do?” Warren asked. “Will he try to run past us to the sea? We don’t have any sails up. He could go right by.”

  Marty smiled and shook his head. “Me thinks not,” he said. “The captain will cast such a fright into that ship, I vouch he’ll heave to.”

  Activity at Crowley’s helm station suddenly burst into a fever pitch. A second sailor dashed to the wheel and began to frantically tug on the spokes in an effort to turn the ship around. The original master fought the maneuver and pulled in the opposite direction.

  “Fire the cannon,” Blackbeard shouted.

  The pirate holding the burning stick touched the end to the wick. The charge exploded and the cannonball was propelled toward Crowley through a nearly perfect ring of smoke.

  A loud crack sounded from the passenger ship as the flying cannonball smacked into the mast. Splinters sprayed into the air and the top of the tall mast drooped at an alarming angle. The billowing fabric of the sail crumpled as half the air escaped.

  “Ahoy, the Crowley,” Blackbeard called when the chaos settled on the helm station. “Luff thy sails and come alongside. None aboard need die if ye act with thy brains and not thy hearts.”

  When Crowley was secured to the port side of Queen Anne’s Revenge, Captain Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet crossed to the captured ship’s deck and gathered the entire host of passengers and its crew.

  Crowley’s captain was a man named Oliver Marks. He stepped forward and introduced himself. “Damnation, sir,” he said to Blackbeard with annoyance. “What be ye vile pirates doing in these waters? We be a peaceful ship on passage to New York with prominent citizens of Charles Town. I thought the likes of ye villains confined thyselves to the Caribbean.”

  “Per chance the pickings be sweeter in these waters,” Blackbeard said. “I seek medical supplies and drink for me crew and the gold jingling loose in thy pockets.”

  A man stepped forward dressed in a silk shirt and a tailored suit. He wore a tall, round hat. A brightly colored ascot was fastened around his neck. A diamond pin was stuck in the silk accoutrement.

  “My name, sir,” he said haughtily to Blackbeard, “is Mr. Samuel Wragg, president of the Council of the Province of Carolina. How dare ye interrupt our lawful voyage on the high seas? And from what benighted family doest thou hail?”

  A strange smile inched across Blackbeard’s bewhiskered face. His expression personified evil. The curling tendrils of smoke surrounding his large head added a satanic aura.

  “Ye failed to notice me banner?” he said with a wry grin. “Canst thou not see I’m the devil incarnate? Do ye wish to challenge me the right to lighten thy pockets of all thy pieces of eight?”

  “I . . . I’m not a fighting man, sir,” Wragg stammered.

  “Then I suggest ye step back and hear me demands,” Blackbeard growled. “All the passengers of Crowley are me captives. I’ll be sending thy Captain Marks back to Charles Town for the medicine and rum we require and certain quantities of gold. If he fails to return in two days, I’ll remove the head from every last one of ye and send them to the governor. Then I will burn every ship in the Charles Town harbor.”

  Samuel Wragg’s face blanched when he heard Blackbeard’s terms. His throat constricted and he couldn’t swallow. “I’ll write a letter to the governor for Captain Marks to carry,” he said when he had gathered his voice. “But ye must agree to release us when the medicine and gold arrives.”

  “Ye have me word, sir,” Blackbeard vowed.

  “I’ll secure the prisoners below,” Stede Bonnet offered. “Perhaps ye should send a man or two ashore with Captain Marks. We wouldn’t want the governor to forget these fine gentlemen in our hold with their necks dangling under our knives.”

  “Aye, Mr. Quartermaster,” Blackbeard said. “Me thinks that be an excellent idea. Captain Marks, prepare to sail thy ship back to Charles Town. I’ll have two men ready to accompany ye forthwith.”

  Blackbeard jumped back aboard Queen Anne’s Revenge and addressed the curious crew huddled on the main deck. “I require two volunteers to accompany Captain Marks to Charles Town and see that the good man secures our medicines and rum and gold from the governor and returns to the ship.”

  Warren immediately considered raising his hand and volunteering for the opportunity to go to Charles Town. Could he get to Florida from South Carolina? Could he eventually return to Serenity Cay and his poor mother? It must be possible, he thought. But how?

  None of the pirates aboard Queen Anne’s Revenge had ever heard of Serenity Cay, and many of them had sailed around the Bahamas for years. Suppose nobody in Charles Town had ever heard of Serenity Cay. He’d be no better off than he was now and even farther from his mother.

  If he were to flee Charles Town for Nassau or Florida, and not return to Queen Anne’s Revenge, would Blackbeard pursue him ashore? Would his flight from the town be considered a treasonous act akin to mutiny?

  Blackbeard apparently planned to remain in the Charles Town area for the near future. There had been no discussion of returning to the Bahamas soon. Was Warren’s best chance to return to Serenity Cay through Charles Town?

  The option of abandoning ship in Charles Town was fraught with uncertainty. How would he travel? Could he ride a horse all the way to Florida? Where would he find a horse for sale? How would he pay for the animal? Could he sneak aboard another boat heading for the Bahamas? The risk was too great. He might be stuck in Charles Town forever!

  Warren decided his best chance to see his mother was to remain with Blackbeard. The pirate had to return to Nassau eventually, didn’t he? From there, Warren was confident he could get to Serenity Cay.

  Able seaman Robert Gladstone raised his hand without hesitation. “I’ll take on the task, captain,” he said. “Ye can count on me.”

  “I’ve never been ashore in the Americas,” Marty Read said. “Perhaps I’ll accompany Mr. Gladstone.”

  “Aye lads. Gather what ye need for two nights ashore and get aboard Crowley,” Blackbeard concluded. “You’re to be back here in two days with our medicine and rum and 500 gold doubloons.”

  ~18~

  Captain Marks stood at Crowley’s helm with a glum expression of defeat on his face. The two pirates from Queen Anne’s Revenge lounged on the main deck, enjoying the short ride back to the unfamiliar port. Marty Read held a bandana on his lap with the four corners tied in a knot to form a pouch. Inside he carried a fresh shirt and several gold coins in case he found something he wished to purchase or treat himself to a fresh meal in a nice restaurant.

  Robert Gladstone sat astride a large satchel that held all his worldly possessions. The damaged packet limped across the waters of the Ashley River toward the lights of Charles Town with her ma
st drooping and her single sail half filled with air.

  “Damnation,” the captain grumbled in a low voice. “Me ship’s mast be splintered and me command be disgraced. What corner of Hades sent this pirate captain to our peaceful village?”

  “Does thou truly know the governor?” Gladstone asked of Captain Marks. “Can ye arrange an audience with the man?”

  “Yea, I be acquainted with the governor,” Captain Marks replied. “It be my intention to talk with him this very evening. I fear for the lives of the captives on the pirate ship. I be certain the governor will arrange for the bounty. I only hope thy captain be a man of his word.”

  * * *

  Captain Marks steered Crowley to the long wooden pier at the end of the peninsula. The sun was below the horizon, and gas lanterns burned brightly in the darkness from the front porches of the many stately homes lining the waterfront street.

  Several citizens who had been strolling the promenade beside the dirt road approached Crowley as the small ship was secured to the pilings.

  “Captain Marks,” one said in surprise. “What be ye doing back here? Did ye not just leave for New York?”

  “I did,” Marks replied. “But a band of pirates attacked us just inside the sandbars. They hold Mr. Wraggs and the other passengers as hostage.”

  “Hostage . . . Mr. Wraggs is a hostage?” a second person said in astonishment. “Who captured him?”

  “The villain did not see fit to announce his name,” Marks said. “But he be the most fearsome man I’ve ever seen.”

  “How did these pirates stop ye?” a third citizen asked. “Thy ship carries plenty of sail to escape, does it not?”

  “Look up at me rigging, me good man,” Captain Marks said in exasperation. “A cannonball cracked me main mast and partially collapsed the sails.”

  The first man shook his head in confusion. “How did ye escape?” he asked. “How did ye get away from these pirates?”

  Marks looked chagrined. “I didn’t escape,” he confessed. “They sent me to get medicine and rum and gold. If I don’t return in two days, the passengers will be killed. The governor will receive their heads on a platter, and all the ships in the harbor will be burned.”

  A collective gasp arose from the astonished citizens. Several more people were walking from neighboring homes as the volume of the voices rose along the wharf.

  “And who be these two scurvy looking characters?” the second man asked as he indicated Marty Read and Robert Gladstone. “Be they some of the pirates. Let’s take them as hostages.”

  A rumble of angry accord sounded from the growing gathering of concerned citizens.

  “Aye,” Gladstone replied. “I be Robert Gladstone of the ship Queen Ann’s Revenge. It would not be wise to lay hands on me or me young friend. If we do not return to our vessel with our heads attached, I vouch ye will have seen the last of the passengers aboard Crowley. Thy ships in port will burn to the waterline, and thy homes will lie in ashes. A little medicine and some grog and a few pieces of eight are a small price to avoid such catastrophe.”

  “We must see the governor this very evening,” Captain Marks said. “Is he at home at this hour?”

  “Governor Spotswood is enjoying a cup at the Bloody Duck. I left him there not fifteen minutes ago,” one of the men reported.

  “Then it’s to the Bloody Duck for me,” Captain Marks said as he stood and stepped to the wharf. “We don’t have the luxury of time to meet the demands of the pirates.”

  “I’ll be accompanying thee,” Robert Gladstone said. “I might be helpful in convincing the governor of the seriousness of me captain’s demands.”

  Marty Read looked at Gladstone as the pirate ascended to the wooden wharf. “Do ye wish me to join thee?”

  “Nay, lad,” he said. “Go into town and find us rooms, preferably above a gay tavern with comely wenches serving tall flagons of drink.”

  “Aye, Mr. Gladstone,” Marty Read said with a sigh of resignation. The young pirate had witnessed Gladstone and his compatriots in many taverns in Nassau swilling grog and shamelessly groping waitresses. The behavior was not to his liking.

  * * *

  The Bloody Duck was a two story wooden building wedged into a row of forlorn structures and perched directly on Tradd Street, two blocks from the waterfront. The windows of the upper floor stood open to the night air; the slatted shutters were pinned to the side of the building with decorative metal clamps. A balcony bordered by a wrought iron railing ran the entire length of the upper floor of the tavern. Dim gas lights shone through two of the upper rooms.

  Twin lanterns framed the open front door. Numerous other lamps inside the building shined dully through the opening and the flanking windows. The sound of raised voices, lubricated with copious amounts of wine, rum and brandy, tumbled into the rutted street from inside the establishment.

  Captain Marks and Robert Gladstone approached the door and entered the smoke-filled tavern. The captain looked around the gathered patrons until he saw the governor sitting at one of the tables in the rear. He removed his hat and approached solicitously. Gladstone trailed a step behind.

  Governor Spotswood looked up from his drink at the two men standing before him. “Be ye gentlemen waiting to talk to me?”

  “Aye, governor,” Captain Marks said. “Tis true. We need a moment of thy time. I’m the captain of the ship Crowley. There’s been an attack in the harbor.”

  The governor placed his drink on the table and wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “An attack?” he repeated incredulously. “There’s been an attack in Charles Town? Impossible! Preposterous!”

  “Yea,” Captain Marks said. “Pirates have taken hostages from Crowley as we were making for the ocean on our way to New York.”

  “There be pirates in Charles Town?” the governor shouted. His face grew florid with anger at the unexpected news. “And they have taken hostages? Who have they taken?”

  “All the passengers from Crowley are being held on the pirate ship including Mr. Samuel Wragg of the Province Council,” Captain Marks reported as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I have a letter from Mr. Wragg addressed to ye.”

  Governor Spotswood fought to control his emotions at the effrontery and audacity of a group of pirates to raid in the harbor of his town. He grabbed the letter from Captain Marks and stared at the words outlining Blackbeard’s demands for medicine and rum and gold in exchange for the lives of the hostages.

  “Do ye actually believe this band of pirates will kill the hostages, captain?” the governor asked as he fumed with indignation.

  Captain Marks answered with a simple nod of his head.

  Spotswood turned to one of the men sitting speechless at the table. He handed him the letter. “This is outrageous. Nevertheless, the men’s lives are the most important issue. Gather the medicines and rum that the pirates demand,” he said. “I’ll provide the gold from the treasury. We cannot allow Mr. Wragg and the other passengers to be murdered by these pirates.”

  Robert Gladstone inched forward. “I’ve been sent to represent the pirates, your honor. May I speak to thee in private?”

  “Who may ye be?” Governor Spotswood asked. His anger at the situation continued to boil inside.

  Gladstone looked around and lowered his voice. “I be Robert Gladstone, able seaman on the Queen Anne’s Revenge.”

  “So, we have one of the pirates in our very midst,” the governor said. “Why shouldn’t we draw and quarter ye this minute?”

  “Because I can help ye,” Gladstone said. “I pledge you’ll not be sorry ye allowed me to speak.”

  ~19~

  Governor Spotswood closed the door to the small room in the back of the Bloody Duck Tavern. He pointed Captain Marks to a chair. Turning to Robert Gladstone, he motioned for the pirate to speak.

&nb
sp; “Do ye know who is the pirate anchored in thy harbor?” Gladstone asked the two men.

  “Nay, the name was not mentioned,” Captain Marks said.

  “The captain of Queen Anne’s Revenge, presently anchored in thy harbor, is Mr. Edward Teach,” Gladstone said. “His crew knows him as Blackbeard.”

  “I think I may have heard the name,” Governor Spotswood said. “He carries the reputation of a fierce pirate, does he?”

  “Aye, governor,” Captain Marks said. “I, too, have heard the name. But to me sorrow I have also seen Blackbeard’s face. He is the most frightening man I have ever had the misfortune to cast me eyes upon.”

  “This is true?” the governor said.

  “His head is overly large on a thick and tall body,” Marks reported. “His face is covered with long black whickers tied in braids. Candles burn in his beard and his face is wreathed with smoke as if he just emerged from a visit to Hades.”

  “And he will kill the hostages if we don’t deliver the medicine and rum and gold?” Governor Spotswood asked pragmatically.

  “Aye,” Captain Marks replied without hesitation.

  Spotswood turned to Gladstone. “Ye talked of help, pirate. Ye have thy private audience. What is it ye wish to say?”

  Robert Gladstone placed his satchel on the floor and opened his hands. “There’s talk of pardons for pirates,” he said. “I want a pardon. I wish to give up the life of a pirate. I don’t want to be hunted for the rest of me life.”

  Governor Spotswood leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “You talked of helping us in Charles Town. How does granting ye a pardon help our citizens?”

  “Do I have your promise of a pardon?” Gladstone asked. “I ask thy promise as a gentleman and the governor of the province of South Carolina.”

  “Ye have me promise,” the governor replied. “But only if ye help us free the hostages held by this pirate Blackbeard.”