A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1)

by William Scott

  *

  “Those aren’t even your own crooked pistols,” MacDuff laughed in amazement from behind the wheel of the Courted Anne. “Turns out you’re just a bad shot.”

  “It was a warning shot you miserable Scot!” Bufford rebuked as he held his hand out for another pair of loaded pistols. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, having just exited the Captain’s quarters. “What are you doing here MacDuff and who’s with you?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough you racist bastard!”

  “How dare you talk to me in such a fashion!” Bufford yelled back, his face reddening in rage. “You’ll answer my questions or I’ll have you keel hauled. I am a member of the Hunt and…”

  “Not anymore!” Pierce yelled from the other side of the ship, having ascended from the forward cargo hatch. He walked confidently towards Bufford, passing the crewmen who were crowded together. “You backed the wrong horse. Cleaver has fled and Lord Lodge has returned. Triumphant and seriously pissed off.”

  “And he sent you? The Yankee, sorry Canadian?” Bufford mocked as he turned his attention towards Pierce. “I’m sorry if I don’t take your appearance here too seriously. Now if I were staring at Tiberius, that’s another matter.”

  “Well you’ll have that chance shortly,” Pierce retorted with a grin. “Tiberius and the rest of the Black Pack have commandeered a Navy ship and will be joining us soon.”

  “Nice try, but I’ve gambled against better men than you sonny.”

  Pierce shrugged in response and leaned against the railing. Not sure what he should do next, he decided to see how Bufford would react. He hoped that he would be so shocked to see his plans discovered that it would allow Sean to finish his task.

  Before Bufford could continue his verbal assault on Pierce, more yelling and scuffling could be heard from the rear hatch. Seconds later Bufford’s two remaining hounds and a crewman led Sean up from below; the look on his face was enough for Pierce to realize he’d been caught prematurely.

  “What have we got here,” Bufford smiled as he lazily pointed the pistols in his hands.

  “We found him in the magazine looking for gunpowder sir,” the crewman behind Sean proudly exclaimed.

  “Let me guess, you swam aboard to assassinate me, but discovered your powder wet once you boarded?” Bufford laughed, seeing Sean’s stoic face flinch. “There’s no ship coming and I’ve captured you all. Ha ha ha!”

  “You’ll never get away with it,” Pierce muttered confidently, momentarily cringing at the classical television dialogue before continuing. “Even if you get those weapons to America, it will be years before the Civil War starts. You’ll be an old man, probably dead.”

  “You think I want to win the war?” Bufford responded incredulously as he walked over to where Pierce was standing. “It can’t be done. Didn’t Lodge tell you about the nature of time? Some things in history are a constant, they cannot be changed. The more you try, the more time fights against you. The Civil War will occur and the South will lose and a few crates of guns can’t change that.”

  “Then what’s this all about?”

  “The South will rise again!” The Colonel yelled his response with the wildest eyes Pierce had ever seen. “I will bury those weapons and return to the Manor, where I’ll then take my proper portal home.”

  Pierce then saw the true insanity and genius of the plan. Bufford was correct in thinking he wouldn’t be able to turn the tide of the war, even with machine guns. To be of any use they’d have to be mass produced, which would lead to union spies obtaining the specs in order to produce their own. With the Union’s greater industrial capacity and population, the Confederate losses would possibly be even greater than before. But if Bufford were to return after the war was over and collect a loyal group of embittered followers, the impact would be much greater. The KKK could conceivably mount a guerrilla war throughout the South, dealing out massive amounts of death and mayhem.

  “You think Lord Lodge will just let you come back into the Manor, grab the key to your portal and then let you leave?” Pierce asked incredulously. “After you’ve conspired with Dr. Cleaver, and broke the rules of transporting goods through time? Tiberius might not be coming with a ship to stop you now, but you can bet he’ll be waiting in the North Tower for you to show your face. You might even get to see him before you get a bullet in the head.”

  “I’ve been planning this for ages and I won’t let some old man like Lodge or trumped up servant like Tiberius stop me!” Bufford growled as he strode over to Pierce, stopping a few feet from him.

  Although a few of the ship’s crew were armed, none of them with firearms, Pierce could still count and they were easily outnumbered. He probably could have ended the whole affair by shooting Bufford when he first came on deck. But he’d waited too long and now Bufford was too close to him, making it impossible to pull his pistol out and get a shot off. It was still in his belt and not cocked.

  “Aren’t we armed to the teeth,” Bufford observed as he took in all the weapons Pierce had strapped to him. But then his eyes fell upon the black swordstick that Pierce had brought along, unable to leave it in the carriage. He grabbed the bronze head and pulled it from Pierce’s belt, twirling it in his fingers. “I think I’ll take this as a trophy.”

  “Didn’t your mother tell you to not take things from others,” Pierce challenged after getting a signal from MacDuff, still steering the ship. In all the confusion nobody had bothered to replace him at the wheel, as all the crew were still crowded together in a group in the middle of the deck.

  “No, she told me to take what I wanted from the weak and you’ve got to be the weakest Hunt member ever recruited,” Bufford laughed as he poked Pierce in the chest with the bronze head.

  “Do that again and I’ll kill you,” he threatened, grabbing the head of the swordstick with his right hand.

  “Ha! I bet you’ve never killed anyone in your life,” Bufford scoffed, shoving it against him a second time despite Pierce’s grip.

  “Not as many as you, you crazy bastard,” Pierce shot back. “But I did kill a man tonight. A real moron.”

  “Really?”

  “Ya, some big Russian guy. He thought following your orders was a good idea,” Pierce prodded, seeing the truth dawn on the Colonel. “A real fucking moron.”

  Bufford let out a wild scream and tried to raise the pistol in his left hand. But Pierce was quicker and with flowing precision he stepped back and removed the blade from its sheath as the ship suddenly lurched to the side.

  MacDuff had timed things perfectly, throwing the ships wheel to one side as Pierce had drawn his sword. The crew toppled against each other as he stepped away from the wheel, pulling out his two pistols. His first shot went into one of Bufford’s hounds holding Sean, hitting his chest and throwing him overboard. Dropping the fired pistol, MacDuff pulled out his cutlass as some of the crewmen charged the quarterdeck.

  The second of Bufford’s hounds took a bullet in the gut from Liam up in the crows nest. He’d watched the whole scene below unsure on how to proceed, surprised at not being discovered. He’d thought about trying to sneak into the hold in order to finish Sean’s task, but knew he probably wouldn’t make it undetected. So instead he’d stayed hidden high above, his rifle trained on the more dangerous Hounds of the Grey Pack.

  Surprisingly the Hounds of the Grey Pack had only removed Sean’s pistols from his belt when they’d found him. So once they’d been dispatched by his companions, Sean pulled out his boarding axe and a long dagger and charged into the chaos that had erupted on deck.

  Two separate battles then formed on the deck of the Courted Anne as a sailor grabbed the wheel and righted the ship. MacDuff and Sean took on a group of ten men in a savage fight near the stern. Meanwhile Pierce found himself in a duel with Bufford and the remainder of the crew that had not fled below. He was backed up by Liam, who stayed up above and was methodically picking off targets with his rifles.

  Pierce had bee
n lucky that Bufford had pulled out his pistol as MacDuff had rocked the ship. The sudden movement had made the Colonel fire prematurely, enabling Pierce to attack him with the blade in is hand. He was able to make some small jabs along Bufford’s arms and chest in quick succession. Bufford used the empty scabbard in his hand to parry these attacks and was the only reason Pierce’s thrusts did not result in deeper hits.

  Angry at being on the defensive, Bufford threw the scabbard aside and pulled out his own long sword and charged towards Pierce. Undeterred by this change, Pierce maintained his composure and continued fighting Bufford in much the same fashion he had against Sean at their first meeting. Bufford attacked with forceful swings which Pierce avoided or parried easily, then counterattacking with his own quick precise strikes.

  Meanwhile the pair at the stern continued their stand. Not wishing the crew any direct harm, Sean and MacDuff tried to refrain from killing any of them directly. They found themselves fighting back to back, covering each other against the greater numbers of their adversaries. Between the two of them they’d managed to wound two and knock out another two; however that still left six men that were now fully enraged by the continued presence of the invaders.

  “Just like Culloden!” Sean yelled over the clash of steel as he turned aside a jab from a spear.

  “Aye!” MacDuff agreed as he punched a sailor who’d missed him with a wooden club. “Hopefully it will end better this time!”

  “I wouldn’t count on it!”