by Hank Manley
“Jump!” Mary screamed. “Jump now.”
Warren waited until the heavy spring line stretched tight and then recoiled slightly, halting the progress of the sloop for a brief moment, creating an instant of slack. He lifted the braided loop at the end of the line from the bollard and tossed it in the water. The sailing vessel, free of the pier, began to inch forward.
Warren took a single step, planted his right foot on the edge of the wharf, and vaulted into the air. He stretched his arms and extended his fingers, increasing his reach to the maximum his height would allow.
His body smacked against the side of the moving sloop. For an instant the collision dazed the young pirate, and he hung motionless with no purchase for his hands. Then he began to slide down the wooden planks on the side of the hull. His booted feet grazed the surface of the water.
A slender hand slapped over his wrist. Slim fingers wrapped around his lower arm and clutched tightly, arresting the young man’s descent.
“Mary,” Warren gasped.
“Warren,” Mary shouted. The anxiety was thick in her voice. “Hold on! Reach up with thy other arm.”
Warren strained to pull himself aloft with the arm which was locked in Mary’s grasp. He gained two inches and then reached with his free hand.
His finger tips curled over the gunwale of the sloop.
“I can pull myself up, now,” he panted. “Thanks.”
With a final heave, Warren launched himself to the deck of the sloop. He turned to Mary and held out his arms. “I was gone,” he said. “If you hadn’t been there for me . . .”
Mary stepped into Warren’s open arms and hugged him close to her breast. She wrapped her arms around his back and, at first, squeezed him enthusiastically, and then, more tenderly.
“I was afraid for thee,” she said. Her throat tightened with emotion “I didn’t want to continue without thee. I couldn’t have . . .”
Conchshell interrupted Mary’s sentence by bounding about Warren’s feet, jumping happily at her master’s unorthodox arrival.
“Blackbeard would have returned for me,” Warren said confidently. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have left me in Charles Town.”
The two young pirates looked to the stern where Captain Edward Teach was busy standing behind the large, wooden steering wheel. He was staring with uninterrupted interest at the compass housed in the binnacle.
* * *
Blackbeard steered the sloop away from Charles Town, down the Ashley River and toward the Atlantic Ocean. The lights from the gas lanterns adorning the residences of Meeting Street quickly faded from view as the sloop gained speed with the main sail fully hoisted.
A falling tide added to the vessel’s forward momentum, and the three pirates happily raced down the naturally carved channel between the two sand bars that lined the entrance into the harbor.
Two hours later, the eastern horizon lightened into a pale gray. A green tint was apparent in the coastal water. The dim outline of the distant shoreline was discernible.
“How long will it take us to sail to Nassau?” Warren asked.
“I’m not certain,” Mary replied. “It took us but a few days from the Wells, but that be in the Queen Anne’s Revenge.”
“I hope it isn’t too long,” Warren said wistfully. “I want to get back to my parents.”
The moment the words escaped the young man’s lips, he hesitated. The full weight of the thought washed over him. If he were home, he would never see Mary again. If he were home, he would miss all the piratical adventures that had been so different and thrilling. His pirate life would be over.
Warren looked at Mary. He suddenly wanted to memorize her face. He wanted to remember every detail of her slightly upturned nose, her smooth, high cheekbones, her small ears, her smiling blue eyes, her thin lips that had once kissed his own cheek, and her tawny hair which was growing out to lie enticingly on her forehead.
Conchshell looked at her master and cocked her yellow head in curiosity as she studied his whimsical expression. The Labrador inched closer to Mary and lifted her snout. She breathed deeply, allowing the young woman’s pleasant scent to fill her nostrils.
“Ship ahoy, lads,” Blackbeard shouted from the helm station. He was staring intently through a long, brass telescope. “Me thinks I spy the silhouette of me Queen Anne’s Revenge. Verily, there she be, anchored in the shallows just a league away.”
Warren and Mary dashed to the stern of the sloop to join Blackbeard behind the wheel. “Ye be able to see the Queen Anne’s Revenge?” Mary asked. “Pray, can I view her thorough the spyglass?”
Blackbeard handed the instrument to Mary. “Look toward the shore. I vouch I’d recognize me own ship anywhere.”
Warren cupped his hands around his eyes and looked in the direction Blackbeard indicated. “How far is a league?” he asked. The young man had never heard the expression of distance before.
“A league be the distance a man or horse can walk in an hour,” Blackbeard explained.
“Oh,” Warren replied.
Mary put down the telescope and looked at Warren thoughtfully. She thought they were headed to Nassau on the sloop, just the three of them. Blackbeard was indeed a frightening man. He terrified her. He was strong enough to overpower Warren and do what he wished with her. The thought gave her chills. More poignantly, the thought was abhorrent, especially when she considered her recent fond feelings toward Warren.
Now, it appeared they were going to be reunited with the crew of Queen Anne’s Revenge. If the crude scallywags aboard the pirate ship knew she was a woman, it undoubtedly would cause chaos. Chivalrous Warren would rush to her defense in an attempt to protect her. He would die in the effort. The young man was not an experienced sword fighter.
“Are we sailing to the Queen Anne?” Mary asked.
“Aye,” Blackbeard said with a menacing snarl on his face. “I want me ship back. And I want to talk to me crew about their cowardly actions in the Charles Town harbor.”
Mary glanced at Warren and shrugged her shoulders. It was apparent the captain was going to exact some revenge for his uncontested capture under the nose of his crew. Bloodshed generally followed when the wrath of Captain Teach was aroused. But the young woman had issues more important to her.
“Captain Teach,” she said. “If we are going to sail to Nassau aboard Queen Anne’s Revenge, I must return to me dress as a man for the passage. I don’t want young Warren to spend every waking minute defending me from the advances of thy savages.”
Blackbeard remained silent as he heard Mary’s decision and the unanticipated reason for her choice to again wear the clothes of a man. The young lady has taken a fancy to the lad, he thought with a smile.
“I beg thee, captain,” Mary concluded. “Keep me secret to thyself. Ye owe me a debt for me assistance in freeing thee from the gaol.”
Blackbeard scratched his copious beard and nodded. “If that be thy wish, I will honor it,” he said simply. Then he turned and put the telescope back to his eye. “I’ll not reveal thy secret to the crew. Having a woman aboard a pirate ship has always been considered bad luck, anyway.”
~30~
Blackbeard studied Queen Anne’s Revenge through the spyglass as he piloted the sloop near his ship. “There appears to be nobody aboard,” he said in a perplexed tone. “Where be me crew?”
“Maybe the crew was captured and taken to prison,” Warren suggested.
“Aye, it be possible,” Blackbeard grumbled. “But I see no signs of a battle. Me ship is not damaged. More likely the worthless scum have been sitting here at anchor drinking the last of the French wine.”
A roseate face appeared above the railing on the forecastle. A pair of gnarly hands rubbed at two blood shot eyes. A mouth dropped open in shock revealing several gaps among a smattering of brownish teeth.
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br /> “By the gods in heaven above,” the man exclaimed. “It be the captain. And his head still be attached to his neck.”
Blackbeard raised his hands to his mouth and shouted across the open water. “Stand by to raft us off. It be Blackbeard coming aboard.”
The pirate captain ordered Mary to partially lower the main sail in order to reduce the approach speed of the sloop. Blackbeard angled the smaller vessel toward the starboard side of Queen Anne’s Revenge. When the sloop was forty yards from the hull of the pirate ship, he eased the line holding the boom. The minimal breeze collapsed out of the sail, and the sheet flapped ineffectually. The purloined sloop gently glided to a stop beside the larger vessel.
Warren immediately threw a rope to one of the pirates on deck.
“Welcome back, captain!” called one of the disheveled sailors from the deck of Queen Anne’s Revenge. “We was just getting ready to go ashore and rescue ye from those townspeople,” yelled another.
“Make the sloop fast,” Blackbeard commanded. “Where be Stede Bonnet? Is me quartermaster aboard?”
* * *
Blackbeard stood on the deck of Queen Anne’s Revenge and looked around. No pirate was on watch. This was one of Captain Teach’s inviolate rules. Transgressions were met with harsh punishment. Had the stolen sloop been an English ship of the line, or a vessel with a contingent of men from Charles Town, the entire crew would have been surprised in their slumber and now dead or resting in the brig wrapped in chains.
Several of the sailors were still asleep in the corners of the main deck. The reek of stale wine pervaded the still air of the anchored vessel.
Warren patted Conchshell’s head. “It’s a sad looking ship, isn’t it, girl. The minute the captain’s gone, the crew falls apart.”
Mary stood beside Warren. Her breasts were strapped flat and her attire as a man was reluctantly restored. None of the debauched crew looked twice at the beautiful young woman disguised once again as a male pirate.
Warren was ambivalent about the young woman’s transformation. He had quickly grown used to seeing Mary in the elegant French blouse and fashionable skirt. He liked seeing her shapely figure. But he realized he would have been jealous if the other men in the crew began to pay attention to her. He would have fought any of the pirates who made advances, but could he have prevailed? The young man shook his head to clear the unnecessary thought.
“Where be Bonnet?” Blackbeard roared. “I need to speak to me quartermaster.”
A nervous titter circulated through the assembled crew on deck. Other pirates began to appear from below, rubbing sleep and disbelief from their eyes when they espied Blackbeard.
“What be it?” Blackbeard exploded, pointing to one of the smirking crew. “Where be Bonnet? You, swabbie, tell me what amuses thee so.”
The designated pirate stifled a chuckle. “Mr. Wragg and his fellows in the launch tossed Mr. Bonnet in the harbor. It happened just after the dog knocked ye on thy head. The poor man couldn’t swim. Old Bonnet sank to the bottom of the harbor like a rock.”
Blackbeard absorbed the news silently. The position of quartermaster was an important one on a pirate ship. A new election would need to be held to replace the recently drowned Stede Bonnet.
“Where be Master Oakes?” Blackbeard demanded. “I vouch he was not drowned in the harbor as well.”
“Nay, captain,” one of the men responded. “I’ll go below and fetch Master Oakes for ye.”
Blackbeard began to pace around the deck. He launched a fierce kick at a sleeping pirate and slapped the face of another slumbering sailor. “Who be standing watch?” he hollered.
There was no response. All eyes that were awake at the moment lowered to the deck. “The boatswain will select three men after we get underway,” Blackbeard roared. “These men will be keel hauled for the transgression of sleeping on watch.”
Master Oakes climbed to the top of the steps from below and staggered to the deck. “Captain,” he shouted in a hoarse voice. “Thank the heavens above for thy safe return. I’ve not been able to keep the crew under control in thy absence.”
“Thou needs more discipline, Master Oakes,” Blackbeard instructed. “Tis discipline that runs a tight ship. I can see ye lack the will to instill it.”
Oakes opened his mouth to protest the rebuke but thought better of the idea and remained silent.
“I require strong men for me crew,” Blackbeard continued. “I should run ye through for thy failures, but I made a promise and I need ye to help me keep it. Ye are to take the sloop to Nassau with young Warren and . . . and Marty Read there. If any others choose not to follow me, be gone with ye on the sloop.”
“Nay, captain,” the crew shouted enthusiastically. “We only waited for thy return. We wish to sail with ye.”
Blackbeard nodded. “Queen Anne’s Revenge is sailing to Ocracoake Inlet. The place be perfect to view ships traveling between the settlements of Carolina. Much treasure passes by the coast, and those that sail with me will enjoy a full bounty.”
Warren heard the name Ocracoake as he stood on the sloop with Mary. He narrowed his eyes in question and searched his memory for the reason the strange name sounded familiar. Something from his past triggered a recollection of the place.
Mary looked at Warren and noticed his mental exercise. “Have ye heard of that inlet?” she whispered to the young man. “It be a new one to me.”
“Something . . . something is familiar about the name,” Warren responded in a low voice. “I think I read about it somewhere. I think something bad happened there. Somebody is slain and their head is hung from a mast.”
Mary shuttered at the thought. “We be on our way to Nassau with Master Oakes, if I heard Captain Teach correctly. Blackbeard has decided to keep his promise to us,” she said. “If thy memory is true, I be glad we’re not sailing in that direction. I like me head where it be.”
Warren looked at Mary and smiled softly. His glance saw directly through her pirate hat and masculine clothes and squashed chest to the beautiful young woman beneath.
* * *
Lines were cast from Queen Anne’s Revenge and the sloop carrying Warren, Mary and Conchshell sailed southeast from the coast of Carolina. Master Christopher Oakes was at the helm. Mary and Warren handled the lines. The main sail was full of wind and the triangular jib was stretched tight between the mast and the bowsprit.
Conchshell stood forward of the mast with the breeze blowing her blonde hair tight along her cheeks and down her flanks. Her bushy tail wagged with pleasure. She licked at the salty air accumulating on her snout and barked happily at sea birds diving in the green waters ahead.
The Labrador was content. Her master was safe and happy. The dog had made a new friend in Mary who patted her and scratched behind her ears. The sloop was traveling smartly through the calm water, and new adventures awaited.
Warren turned to Mary who was sitting beside him near the steering wheel, aft of the mast. The young woman was still dressed as a man to prevent potential problems between Warren and Christopher Oakes. “What’s keel hauling?” he asked. “I heard Blackbeard say three of the crew were to be keel hauled for sleeping on watch.”
“Be glad it not be thee,” Mary said. “A separate rope be tied to each of a person’s feet and hands. Then the poor lad be tossed in the water from the bow when the ship is sailing ahead.”
Warren grimaced with the image of the procedure. “Then what?”
“Sailors walk the four ropes down the length of the ship, two on each side, dragging the man under the hull to the stern.”
“And the person has to hold his breath while he’s being pulled along under the entire length of the ship?” Warren asked in horror. “How terrible.”
“That be not the worst part of it,” Mary said. “There be barnacles covering the whole of the bott
om of the ship. Doest thou know what is a barnacle?”
“I know,” Warren said. “They’re sharp!”
“Aye,” Mary agreed. “I only saw one man keel hauled. His body was ripped to pieces when they pulled him over the stern from the sea.”
“Did he drown?”
“Nay. He bled to death on the deck. It be a terrible mess of blood and torn flesh. I’ll not forget the sight in me lifetime.”
Warren turned away and swallowed the raw taste crawling up his throat.
~31~
Master Christopher Oakes sailed the stolen sloop into the protection of Nassau harbor. The pirate sanctuary was nestled between the large island of New Providence on the west and slender Hog Island, two hundred yards to the east.
Crystal clear waters flowed between the two entities at sufficient depth to allow passage by major sailing vessels. Hog Island, where pigs, goats and cattle grazed until required for the cooking pot, provided protection from the easterly trade breezes.
A merry band of pirates, buccaneers, thieves and desperados operated out of New Providence. For three decades there had been no government and no law. Meager attempts by the British to reign in the nefarious activities of the rogue sailors had met with failure. The nearly one thousand pirates that frequented the Bahamian island had successfully resisted all initiatives to bring order and civility to the area.
Frustrated by the inability to defeat the pirates, the British Crown finally sent Mr. Woodes Rogers to Nassau as governor of the Bahamas with a final arrow in his quiver. A pardon was offered to all pirates that would absolve them of their previous crimes if they would cease and desist from future attacks on merchant shipping.
The offer was tempting. Piracy was extremely lucrative, but it was dangerous. Piracy was fun, but it could be hazardous, even deadly. Most pirates took the offer and became lawful citizens. Other pirates refused the offer and remained outlaws.