Faron and Nortty followed me across a narrow cascade of fallen boulders that winded up the backside of the cliff. The crevice was damp and misty with moss and plant life sprouting between the rocks. Thar was a thick brush covering that blockaded the most reasonable entrance to the cliff top, so I pulled out me cutlass and began to hack a path out of the thicket. Finally reaching our destination, the three of us stood silent, observing the fullness of the view.
While lookin’ around, I found me mind thinking ‘bout how Charlotte would love to see such a sight. The endless blue shimmer of ocean coated the earth like a blanket and the sunlight sauntered warmly across the beaming blue sky that was clear of clouds. The Wind of Glory was anchored peacefully at the edge of the bay and seemed tiny in comparison to the wild blue that surrounded it.
Looking through me new spyglass, I could see a small bunch of clouds in the far eastern distance. By the lay of a cloud I could tell if it was rolling freely over the sea or tumbling its way around the peaks of a shore, and that bundle of white signified a distant shore. From the look of the clouds, the beginning of the island chain leading to Ile De Amoruex wouldn’t be far, and the island itself should be a minimum two day sail.
Explaining what I had figured to Nortty and Faron, they agreed to aim course in a southeasterly direction, and Nortty patted me on the back before he bounced down the rocks to join Pete in the shade. Standing alone with Faron, I figured I’d let him know ‘bout me trouble with the captain. If I wanted to escape the mission alive, I would need him on me side, so I hoped he’d be easy to persuade.
As I relayed the details, Faron nodded his head with interest. “So that’s what’s been going on? I’ve been ‘bout ready to slap that man upside his head fer abusing his reign of power as he has. His murderous actions ‘ave put the men on edge and I see the way the crew’s been dividing.” He shook his head in shame. “No way to run a crew. I could ‘ave gone to work in Barbados if’n I wanted a domineering tyrant running me life. I chose this life to escape slavery, and hell will be lookin’ pretty to the man that tries to take me freedom.”
I was always humored by the way Faron so easily blustered his thoughts into inspiring speeches, and I was pleased to know we had a similar view of the issue. “And I thought I might ‘ave to persuade ye to my favor.”
He laughed, “Ye know we think alike, Bentley. I been wonderin’ how I might get me arse outta this hellbound crew, so I’m not surprised to hear ye ‘ave been doing the same. Ye come up with anything yet?”
“Either vote or mutiny. Vote would be best, but either way we’d need to gather a good backing to make a valid stance. Morley’s got so many men on his side, and though I ‘ave heard a few complaining about his ways, it’s not nearly enough hands to vote him out and certainly not enough backbone to run a mutiny. He’s running them with fear, so it’ll be hard to convince them it’d be worth the risk. Though ye and I would rather die fighting than cower in shame, others might not be so savvy for the notion without a little persuasion.”
“We got a few items of persuasion; promise of freedom and the treasure map.” He tapped me on the forehead. “I reckon their greed might support the power we need to back our play.”
He was right. Most of these greedy dogs were out for the prize.
Pleased to know that Faron was ready to fight, I suggested we head down the path as we continued making our plans. Being bound to the code that we signed in our blood, the consequences for inspiring a mutiny would be treacherous, so in order to make a change, we’d ‘ave to take our time to plot accordingly. Faron had some surprising ideas and I was confident that his air of leadership would inspire a good group of men to follow our lead, and we’d be needing as many followers as we could get.
Keeping the Wind of Glory anchored where she stood, we planned to set sail with the rising sun. John the Cook had gathered up a bounty of fruit, fish from the stream, and a sea turtle. Sea turtle was a desired delicacy on a ship that would be sailing for days on end, for it could be kept alive in the hold and killed for fresh meat at a later date. The men stored the turtle that John named Sheldon, while he made us fish and fruit for the night’s feast.
After dinner, I sat with a few of me mates, and with the lights out on deck, the stars that dazzled across the darkened sky glowed in all their heavenly glory. The ship gently rolled on the wake while the melody of subtle splashes sounded against the hull, and we talked and laughed as we drank our rum. With me body a buzz, me thoughts swayed easily with the ship.
James Thornton came to join us, and when he sat next to Pete, Pete growled, “And what the hell tree did this blimey little twig fall off of?”
James laughed before he told Pete his story and as I expected, he ended his tale with a dramatic bewail. “I thought your kind just stole gold, drank rum and had your fun with the wenches. This has turned out to be a great deal of work.”
Among the laughter that surrounded James, I reminded, “This has been smooth sailing, matey. Just wait ‘til we hit a storm.”
Faron laughed as he assured, “Don’t worry ‘bout the storms, mate. The battles be much worse. I’d rather die by the hand of God’s nature than the blade of a bloodthirsty pirate.” Faron ran his forefinger across his throat like a knife and James shrieked in fear. “Oh, how did I not think this through?”
Marin the Marooner added, “Ye ought to be worried ‘bout the punishment for cowardice, fearing like ye are.”
James had told me he was afraid of the “pierced and tattooed African boy”, so I laughed as he inhaled his intimidation and turned away from Marin without saying a word.
Pete, who was rubbing his disgusting bare belly, belched a near vomit before attempting to sound spooky. “What ye need to be watching out for be the mystics of this dazzling blue sea. Thar be sirens that will seduce ye, aye those sweet little vixens will sing ye songs so they can drown ye. Thar also be ghostly haunts aboard the ships from men that ‘ave fallen in battle and the men that ‘ave drown in the storms. That’s why we tie chains around the dead before we throw them overboard, so they don’t be rising to haunt us later. But to me the worst thing be The Kraken.”
James gasped in suspense. “What is The Kraken? How can it be worse than all those awful things?”
Enjoying the fear on James’ face, we held back our laughter and let Pete glorify his tale for our own humor. I’d heard Pete’s story so many times, and it grew more dramatic each time he told it. First time he had only thought he saw The Kraken. The next time, he made eye contact with the beast’s enormous pupils. Eventually, The Kraken growled and moaned, but this time, the story reached its peak of exaggerated dramatics…
“Avast, the sun was rising and the ocean was calm. Pouring a barrel of fish guts overboard, I saw its slimy skin slithering past the hull, but before I had a chance to panic, the mangy beast raised its gigantic tentacles into the air. The slobbering row of suction cups reached over the deck and began tearing at the ship. Aside from our horror, we tried to defend the ship, but thar was no hope. The beasty ripped the mast to bits, and I barely survived the wreckage by clinging onto a barrel that floated me at sea for days…”
At that point we could no longer contain our humor. Nearly in tears with laughter, teasing Pete ‘bout his hysterics, me stomach hurt from laughing so much, and Faron had one of those laughs that made me want to laugh more, so I couldn’t stop. Planky used his long skinny arms to imitate the tentacles of The Kraken, and Pete just drank his rum while insisting on the seriousness. James pretended to laugh, but I was sure he wished he was still sleeping behind the tavern in Port Royal.
Chapter 8
Power of the Storm
As told by Sterling Bentley
The sails were set with the morning light, but the sun didn’t show for long. A slew of clouds rolled in from the south, quickly covering the sky, and the dark storm brewing in the distance was lookin’ heavier than the tension aboard. Sailing on in the cloud covered day, hoping that the ferocity of the storm would stay
at bay, I eyed the sky like an untrusted antagonist.
James joined me at the tiller and inquired through his worried eyes, “Will that storm be coming this way?”
Intending to look serious I warned, “Ye better hope not.” The storm did look threatening, but mostly I just wanted to scare him.
In the last hours of evening light the Wind of Glory reached the island I spotted from Una Palma. I remembered being here with Captain Bentley and Kinley when I was a lad. The rocky cliffs were jagged and steep which kept the plant life minimal so the land was strangely barren for the Caribbean. Kinley had told me the island was called Ua’ Choreto, the native Arawak’s words for no abundance.
Fluent in multiple languages, Kinley said the name with the native accent, and though he tried to teach me the languages he knew, I was young and closed minded; insisting that everyone should just speak English. Within my stubborn resistance I called this island The Barren Shore. Wishing now that I had taken the time to learn the languages, I still continued to refer to the place by me English name for it.
Heavy clouds hovered over the dark and unwelcoming coast, leaving the shore to look cold, gray and well, barren. Cruising along the southern shore of the sheer rocky coastline, the wind picked up in a harsh northward direction, and if’n it kept up, we’d be bashing against the rocks along the shore afore long.
Of course, the wind picked up.
Hollering directions for the men to reef the sails before conditions worsened, I took a better grip on the tiller to veer us away from the rocky doom that awaited. Nortty took to managing the sails, while Morley commanded the men to batten the hatches and fasten the goods. The wind blew in a ghostly howl, and the timbers of the ship creaked and groaned in the increasing waves. Lightning flashed in the distance, and the heavy sound of thunder tumbled across the cloud covered sky.
Nortty’s voice echoed down from the yardarms, and though raindrops had yet to fall, the dampened air was heavy enough to leave us in wet clothing. Amongst the wild flurry of men that were scampering around to fight the weather, James ended up next to me kneading the nerves in his hands like a loaf of bread.
Though I knew thar were better things he could be doing, I took the opportunity to complain, “If only I had a coat.” My shirt was completely soaked through and I pulled at me waistcoat to show how the leather was suctioning to my skin. Through the sounds of rumbling thunder and tossing seas, James squeaked, “How can you be worried about your coat when we are all going to be drowned?”
“We might be less likely to drown if’n ye get yer arse up on that mast pole and help Nortty with the sails.”
His eyes grew wide and he ran over to help Faron rig a jackline across the deck instead. Though most of the men only took to grabbing it when the waves washed over, James gripped the line as if it were his commanded job to do so.
Soon enough, the waves began to thrash across the deck. Wrestling the current with the rudder, I braced for the wash just in time, but Perry wasn’t so fortunate. The vicious current washed him out to sea, and James screamed like a woman as he watched the helpless man drift off into the Locker. It could ‘ave been any one of us, and there was no saving him.
Eventually it rained, and I mean poured. Raindrops pummeled my face like shards of metal following a blast of chain shot, and the wind was whipping the sails to near shredding. With nothing more than the flashes of lightning to illuminate the thrashing waves, we fought the night’s weather with relentless strength; only losing one other man to the hungry sea.
Though the storm tamed its anger near the rising of dawn, the dim light of day met us with another fearsome sight; fetching seas were rising around the keel. The rain had stopped and the waves were no longer cresting, but the swells were rolling at an impeccable forty-foot height. There was near to no wind in the calm of the trough, but the walls of water surrounding the Wind of Glory were dark and foreboding. The maelstrom at the crest welcomed us with violent winds, that blew the waves into froth, foam, and spray; stinging the skin with the wrath of many wasps.
Running away from the wind under bare pole, the climb was as agonizing as the descent was intense, but we set a course with the hounds at our back and kept a bone in her teeth to manage our speed. With his arm still wrapped around the jackline, James was throwing up all over the place.
My body was aching from the strenuous work, but unlike James, there was no retirement in my sight; far as the eye could see, the rollers waked with the mockery of prison bars. No longer mattering which island we were nearing, what treasure we had missed, or who hated who, the crew came together to conquer the storm. And by the might of sheer survival, we overcame the weather.
X
The new day dawned with clear skies and calm seas. The sky always looked bluer after such storms passed, but the ship hadn’t pulled out so pretty. The force of the gale had torn and blown out the sails, stretched the rigging, chafed the lines, and cracked a few of the deadeyes at the base of the shrouds. Not to mention she flexed so much against the thrashing current that the caulk between the planks had moved enough to cause a few leaks in the hull. Us men were lookin’ no better. Soaking wet with tangled hair, tattered clothes, and dark rings under our eyes, appearing to be a bunch of wind weathered ol’ vagabonds that hadn’t slept in days. Aye, the vigorous feat beat on us as bad as the weather beat on the Wind of Glory, and we all needed a break.
After the major leaks were sealed, I removed me soaking wet shirt and waistcoat and laid down for the long awaited rest. Having not slept for long, I felt surprisingly alive as I arose, did my pushups with a newfound vigor, and headed to the deck to measure our bearings. With the sun shining on the bare skin of me back, I looked through the sighting vane of the backstaff.
Far as I was concerned, the backstaff was one of the best inventions of all time. With older tools like the cross staff, I’d ‘ave to stare at the sun, burning and exhausting me eyesight to achieve a rough measurement, while with this navigational marvel, I could stand with me back to the sun, using the horizon line and the casted shadows to gather my measurements for latitude on the dial.
Figuring that we had drifted out into the Atlantic, I was pleased to see the measurements confirm my estimation. Self-assured in the confidence my knowledge gave me, I wondered how so many of these men sail blindly into the sea without such inform. Then again, it was the rarity of me skill that asserted my value at sea, and had I not known the things that I did, Morley, along with a handful of other men I had confrontations with, would ‘ave killed me long ago.
I may not ‘ave picked up on the spoken languages that Kinley attempted to teach me, but when he told me ‘bout the sea, the stars, the tides, and the moon, I learned that language with ease. The elements were a part of me spirit.
While working I noticed James looking at the battle scars that characterized my skin. “How did you get all slashed up like that, Bentley?”
I told him ‘bout the battle in Panama that caused the tear across me left side. It was by far the heaviest scar I had, and when he asked me ‘bout the pain I told him, “Me father died in that battle so the pains of this wound were the least of me worries.”
James looked sobered by my statement, so I carried on with the humor of the next scar. The slash mark went straight down the right side of me abdomen; it was from a fight at a tavern in Tortuga. James laughed when I told him the fight was over a card game. “I don’t even like to gamble because I never win. Well, that day I won the game, but I nearly lost me life. The man I played didn’t do well with defeat, and he pulled out his cutlass to fight me. I won the fight and gained this scar.”
Then I pointed to the thin burn mark on me back and told James it was the most painful one. “Last time I was in Singapore we went after a man that robbed me captain. We broke into the man’s house to get him and his family attacked us. His mean little wife screamed like a vulture and thrashed across me back with a hot iron. At that point I didn’t give a pox-face bilge louse who robbed who. I ran out of
the shack to keep meself from stabbing that angry woman.”
There were plenty of other small marks and scratches, and James listened intently as I told me stories, but soon enough he asked, “How can you so willingly submit yourself to the harshness of this lifestyle?”
I thought ‘bout the ups and downs of me life at sea. There were plenty of times when me life was at risk and various moments that left me in pain, but it was beyond me to imagine living any other way. “What else would I do, mate?” I questioned him as much as meself.
James chuckled, and I continued, “Living on the fringe of survival keeps the blood flowing. When any day could be yer last, ye might want to be sure it’s a good one.”
Just as I headed towards the chart room to record our bearings, I saw the men rushing over to the portside, excited about something they could see.
I went over there to get a look and was awed to see thirty to forty pound tuna breaking the top of the water; there were so many fish that we could hardly see through the fluttering school of them, but suddenly they started dwindling off. About a mile east thar were ‘bout fifteen killer whales swimming in a circle. It seemed that they were making a whirlpool to suck the tuna into their trap.
Once there were enough tuna in the spiraling pool, one of the whales dove below and jumped up through the middle of the group. The creature cut through the surface of the sea with an open mouth, swallowing all the tuna that one large open whale mouth could gulp in. The whales took turns doing that until the source of tuna thinned, and we hollered and cheered as if we were watching an arm wrestling match until the full-bellied whales began to swim away.
The sight led me to think ‘bout Charlotte and her desire to see the world. Knowing that she had been stuck in that castle her whole life made me want to take her out to see the places that she wanted to explore. I liked the way her eyes lit up when she saw that lagoon, and I could only imagine what she would think about the things I had seen since I left her in Port Royal. It was kind of nice knowing that I had a pretty woman waiting for me, and I looked forward to telling her my stories when I got back.
Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1) Page 14