Jim Morgan and the Pirates of the Black Skull

by James Raney

  Copyright © 2013 James Matlack Raney

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0985835931

  ISBN 13: 9780985835934

  Books in the Jim Morgan series:

  Jim Morgan and the King of Thieves

  Jim Morgan and the Pirates of the Black Skull

  To COL James P. Holley, USA Retired,

  one of the best men I’ve ever known.

  BOOK I: Danger and Doom on the High Seas

  1. At the Lighthouse by the Sea

  2. A Face in the Storm

  3. To Morgan Manor

  4. Fire, Ash, and Moonwater

  5. Dame Margarita Morgan

  6. Philus Philonius

  7. The Potion and the Black Rose

  8. Return of the Red Count

  9. The Map of Blue Fire

  10. Rescue in the Fog

  11. In the Captain’s Quarters Aboard the Spectre

  12. Lacey’s Stars and a Talisman Lost

  13. Janus Blacktail

  14. The Cat’s Tale

  15. Through the Window

  16. The Shop of Egidio Quattrochi

  17. Jim Morgan and Dread Steele

  18. The Sea Monster’s Attack

  19. The Queen of the Merpeople

  20. Dark Schemes Aboard the Sea Spider

  21. Ambush Among the Rocks

  22. The Rose Thorn’s Magic

  BOOK II: On the Shores of the Veiled Isle

  1. Through the Devil’s Horns

  2. The Lizard’s Warning

  3. In the Shadow of the Crags

  4. The Sisters of the Isle

  5. The Brothers Ratt Versus the Sisters Three

  6. Under Cover of Magic Fog

  7. The Sea of Grass

  8. Old Enemies on New Shores

  9. Fording the Tears of the Mountain

  10. The Dark Forest

  11. George Ratt and the Queen of the Faeries

  12. The Painted Cave

  13. Into the Serpent’s Mouth

  14. Upon the Path of Riddles

  15. The Hunter’s Shell

  16. While Jim was in the Chamber

  17. Escape by Monster

  18. Back Aboard the Spectre

  19. Jim Morgan and the Pirates of the Black Skull

  20. The Many Lies of Splitbeard the Pirate

  21. The Crimson Storm’s Revenge

  22. Count Cromier’s Escape

  23. Sailing on For Distant Shores

  n dark nights, when the wind grows cold and the rain falls hard in London, the old pirates at the Inn of the Wet Rock spin tales as black as the weather. They tell of ghosts, devils, monsters, and magic by the light of a roaring fire.

  There is one story darker than all the rest. It is the legend of the Pirates of the Black Skull, and the finding of the Treasure of the Ocean.

  Many years ago, four friends vowed to seek out a long lost treasure from time out of legend. The four called themselves the Pirates of the Black Skull. Beyond the farthest islands they sailed. Into the deepest oceans they ventured. They uncovered ancient and dangerous secrets - secrets of magic and power not meant for mortal men. At long last, in the safekeeping of a kingdom under the sea, the pirates found the Treasure of the Ocean. It was a treasure worth more than silver and gold.

  The Pirates of the Black Skull stole the Treasure. They bore it away to a ruined temple upon the shores of a forgotten island. There, beneath a stormy sky, they sought to unlock the Treasure’s power. But men’s greed and the Treasure’s magic were both beyond the pirates’ reckoning.

  The pirates’ lust for power corrupted their friendship. Within the walls of the temple they turned on each other and fought until one of the four was struck down dead. The Treasure’s magic turned the dying man’s blood into an enchanted cloud, a Crimson Storm bent upon fury and revenge. The remaining pirates barely escaped each other and the red storm with their lives. But the Treasure of the Ocean was lost once more.

  Some say the story ends there. They say that the Treasure of the Ocean is gone forever and the wise should leave it so. But others have heard rumors, tales, and hints that the Treasure was found again. They’ve heard that the Crimson Storm still haunts the sea. They say those that remain of the Pirates of the Black Skull still seek to regain that which was lost…and will kill whoever stands in their way.

  ONE

  he pirate captain drew his sword as he crossed the ship’s deck. His cheek twitched with wicked glee beneath a grungy eyepatch. Through the sun’s harsh glare he leered at his prisoner with his one good eye, holding her at bay with the point of his blade.

  “Prepare yer soul for Saint Peter, and yer body for Davy Jones’ locker, young lass. Ye’ve crossed us fer the last time and now me and me scurvy crew’ll be seein’ ya to sleep with the fishies o’ the deep. Walk the plank, ye dog!”

  The prisoner, her arms bound in rope, backed down the plank. A hint of fear swirled in her eyes. Her auburn curls drifted in the ocean wind. Her name was Lacey. Once she had roamed the streets of London with a small clan of thieves. But now she cowered at end of a pirate’s plank, just above the threat of the ocean deep.

  “Tis the end of the road for ye, little Lacey,” the pirate captain growled. He jabbed his sword once more in the girl’s direction, intent on seeing her drop like a stone into the sea. “Swimmin’ time!” All seemed lost for Lacey, when, from nowhere, a lone figure swung in on the rigging, sword gripped between his teeth. He landed with a flourish between the pirate and his prey, taking his blade in hand.

  Jim Morgan had come to the rescue, ready to battle his old foe to the bitter end.

  “Think again, Thick Beard, you poltroon!” Jim leveled his sword at the captain’s chest. “If you wish to hurl Lacey into the ocean to swim with the sharks, you shall do so over my dead body!”

  “Morgan!” Thick Beard rasped. Surprise flashed for a moment in his lone eye - but only for a moment. A slow, sly smile curved at the edges of the pirate’s mouth. “What you don’t know, Morgan, is that over yer dead body was exactly me plan! Haha! Ye’ve walked into me trap, set by me…and me entire crew!” On cue a battle cry erupted from the ship’s deck. A second pirate, cutlass in hand, leapt to the captain’s side, teeth bared and growling.

  An epic sea battle for the ages was about to begin…

  …only, something was not quite right.

  Something was missing.

  Captain Thick Beard paused to survey the deck with his one eye. An irritated grumble slipped through his gritted teeth.

  “I said: me and me entire crew!” Thick Beard bellowed.

  A third howl pierced the air and another figure swung on deck. But instead of landing beside Captain Thick Beard, he fell in at Jim’s side, producing a sword from between his own teeth.

  “Surprise, Thick Beard, you cur!” the new pirate shouted. “You’re the one who’s walked into a trap! Now you shall face not only the wrath of Jim Morgan, but the extra wrath of me: One-Eyed Pete!”

  Jim turned and indeed found his good friend, Peter Ratt, quite unexpectedly at his side. Some sort of sock was wrapped about his head, half-covering his left eye. Jim shrugged and was about to go along with it when Thick Beard’s wooden sword tumbled with an angry clatter on the deck at Jim’s feet.

  “Peter?” said Thick Beard. “Just what do you think you’re doin’? We said at the beginnin’ that you was gonna be part of the crew!”

  “I’m tired of bein’ part of the crew, George,” Peter said. “I want to be a pirate with me own nickname. So I switched sides and joined Jim while your back was turned! No rule against that, now is there?”

  “You can’t DO
THAT, Peter!” George, who had only a moment ago been playing the pirate captain, shrieked. “I’m Thick Beard, you and Paul are the crew, Jim’s the navy cap’n, and Lacey’s the damsel in the dress!”

  “That would be damsel in distress, George,” Jim offered. But when he turned toward the plank, Lacey’s binds lay in a pile on the board and she sat lazily on the edge with her back to the boys. Her feet dangled in the water as she happily read her favorite book, looking anything but distressed at all.

  George screamed again and kicked his wooden sword for good measure. Paul, who had been growling for the better part of five minutes, finally burst into laughter, which marked with certainty the end of playing pirates for the day. Jim laughed himself and sheathed his wooden sword in his belt.

  The three brothers, George, Peter, and Paul Ratt, may not have been very good pretend pirates, but they were marvelous friends. They were also as close to famous as a trio of orphaned boys from London could be in those days. In their own words they were: “the princes of pocket picks,” “the counts of the con,” and “the barons of breaking and entering.” Of course, those were their own words. But as it happened, they were nearly as talented as they thought themselves to be. There was not a more skilled pickpocket in all of England than George Ratt. Peter was equally renowned as an incomparable lockpick, and Paul was a natural-born con man. Then there was Lacey. She may have been the only person Jim knew who could coral all three Ratts at once. More importantly, the three brothers were Jim Morgan’s best friends in the whole world, along with Lacey. She was as tough as George and as smart as Jim, and could always be counted on in a pinch.

  As the Ratts argued amongst themselves on the little boat, Jim breathed deeply of the salty ocean air and stole a glance toward the shore. A tall lighthouse stood like a castle tower, looking over the bay. A field of green grass ran over the hills beyond, waving and whispering in the sea breeze. For the better part of a year that lighthouse had been home for Jim and his friends, where old MacGuffy, the retired pirate, kept watch over them.

  A sandy beach and a crooked pier led up to the lighthouse’s front door. It was at the end of this pier that just over one year ago, Dread Steele, the most famous pirate on the Seven Seas, had dropped off Jim and his friends after a harrowing escape from the streets of London. Dread Steele’s former first mate, MacGuffy, had been quite surprised to find five orphaned children on his doorstep that night. But the gruff pirate had a kinder spirit than he would ever admit, and took the children into his home. The old salt was especially fond of Lacey, and had even given her one of his own books, which she read constantly and took with her everywhere. In fact, it was the very same book she was reading on the plank, about the stars in the sky and the stories of how they took their names, and of how they could predict men’s futures.

  The Ratts, on the other hand, had nearly driven poor MacGuffy mad. They spent most of their days arguing with Lacey, or wrestling each other one against two, or stealing MacGuffy’s underclothes from the drying line to use as pirate flags, which they had done that very morning. All this sort of activity would turn MacGuffy’s wrinkled face as purple as the scar that ran down from his old eyepatch. Of course, George was the worst of them all, dreaming up adventures and trying to live them out – often with catastrophic results. He was bottled up lightning just bursting to break free. In fact, Jim noted, George was causing a bit of trouble even now.

  “You can’t just untie yourself, Lacey,” George complained. He made sure to put an additional dose of nastiness on Lacey’s name and flipped up his eyepatch to glare at her with both eyes for good measure. “That’s stupid!”

  “Well I think this entire game is stupid, George!” Lacey retorted, climbing back to her feet and slamming the book down on the plank. “And why do I always have to be the damsel in distress? I wouldn’t mind playing so much if I could be a pirate every once in a while.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, Lacey?” said George, rolling his eyes. His brothers joined in to form a Ratt Brothers’ chorus in reply. “There are no girl pirates!”

  “Yes there are!” Lacey said. She threw her hands on her hips and her eyes flashed like blue lightning. “Dread Steele even said so himself.”

  “He was just bein’ nice to you, Lacey, ‘cause you were obviously terrified for your life.”

  “I was NOT, George! And if you’re so sure, why don’t you give me one of those swords and you and I have a go? Then we’ll see, won’t we?”

  “Oh, come off it, Lacey,” Jim said. He stepped up onto the plank to calm things down before his two best friends unleashed a real corker of an argument. “You know what George means. He just wouldn’t want to fight you because it wouldn’t be fair and all that. He’s trying to be polite.”

  This was, as Jim was about to learn, the absolutely worst thing he could have said. He should have remembered the time Lacey knocked Big Red, a rather burly bully from London, flat on his rear end. But boys have rather short memories, especially boys who are nearly thirteen years old and absolutely full of confidence they can do anything.

  “Wouldn’t be fair?” Lacey balled up her fists and raised her foot to stomp, as she often did when dealing with the “usual boy stupidity,” as she put it. But at the last moment her face surprisingly transformed into a sweet smile and she gently folded her arms across her chest. “Well,” she said in an overly calm voice. “That is so chivalrous of you and George, Jim. Really, it is. But let’s just say if I wanted, out of curiosity of course, to try to swordfight you - as silly as that would be - how far would you go to make it easy on poor little me? Would you fight me with one hand behind your back?”

  “Of course, Lacey,” Jim said. He thrust one arm behind his back and threw a wink to the Ratts behind him.

  “Very kind of you, Jim. But I’m still not sure I could win, even then. You are so strong, after all. What about standing on one foot?”

  “On one foot?” Jim asked. George and his brothers began to heckle Jim at his back, as though they had not been the very ones to start this argument in the first place.

  “Fine then,” said Jim, and he lifted his right foot.

  “Perfect,” said Lacey. Her little smirk twisted into a full-blown smile and she finally stomped her foot on the plank. The slim wooden board wobbled like a saw blade and Jim, on only one foot, tipped over backwards, his sword-bearing arm whirling like a windmill.

  “Lacey, you—!” Jim shouted as he tumbled into the bay. George, Peter, and Paul’s uproarious laughter accompanied him the entire way down.

  Jim was far more aggrieved at having been so easily tricked than he was about falling into the water. He was by far the best swimmer of all his friends. “Swim like a fish ye do, Jimmy,” old MacGuffy had said. In fact, Jim was planning on using that talent to sneak up beneath the plank and pull Lacey down with him, when something gave him a sharp tug. Jim looked beside and beneath him in the clear water, afraid he was under attack from an unfriendly fish. But the waters about Jim were empty, save for a few stalks of wavering seaweed.

  Jim felt the tug again. This time it was a rough jerk. It not so much grabbed at Jim’s ankle or wrist, but rather seemed to pull at his very soul. On the third tug, stronger and harder than the first two by far, Jim closed his eyes – and in the darkness saw a shape materialize before him.

  An image flashed in Jim’s mind - sudden, loud, and violent. Jim saw a roiling, crimson cloud. In the cloud was a face, eyes lit by purple lightning – eyes in the face of a black skull.

  Jim tried to scream, but all he accomplished was swallowing a lung full of bay water. His plan of surprising Lacey completely forgotten, Jim surged back to the surface and came up coughing and spitting. Lacey pulled him up by the collar, helping him sit on the plank. She patted him hard on the back to force out the water, her cheeks quite pink and concern etched in her eyes.

  “Oh, Jim, I’m so sorry! That was an awful trick! You were down there so long, I thought I would have to come in after you.” As
apologetic as Lacey appeared, the Ratt brothers were still howling like monkeys and pointing at Jim from the side of the ship. In spite of himself, the Ratts’ laughter almost always made Jim smile. He laughed along as he pulled his feet all the way out of the bay and spit the rest of the water from his mouth.

  “What happened down there, Jim?” Lacey asked. Jim was about to tell her exactly what he had seen, but looking down in the clear water, where there was nothing larger than a minnow and nothing deadlier than seaweed, he decided just to keep it to himself. It had been a rather frightening and confusing moment, one most difficult to explain without sounding quite mad.

  “It was nothing,” Jim said.

  He had never been so wrong in his life.

  Grizzled old MacGuffy was waiting for Jim and the others on the pier when they returned. His wispy white hair was tossed in the wind. He squinted his good eye as he whittled away on a piece of wood, which was only slightly less gnarled and twisted than the fingers carving it. Even as a retired pirate, he was the roughest looking salt Jim had ever seen.

  “What have I told ye’ lads and lass about sailin’ on the bay alone? Or about bein’ out there this late in the day? It be nearly nighttime! A storm or wave’ll likely come up out o’ nowhere’s and smash yer skiff to matchsticks, and leave ye to be shark food in the meantime.”

  “I’m not afraid of storms or waves, MacGuffy!” Jim shouted back with an impossibly confident smile. He pulled the little boat to a stop at the pier and moored it to the post with the same ropes he and George had used to tie up Lacey. “She’s a beautiful ship and besides, I’m your best sailing student ever. You said so yourself!”

  “Not afraid o’ storms or waves, says he,” MacGuffy snorted. He shook his mangy head and held his hands up to the sky for mercy. “Those be the most foolish words ever I heard, ya sea pup!” MacGuffy was just about to expound the very same lesson on sailors and storms he had preached nearly every day since he had begun teaching Jim how to sail, when he caught sight of the buccaneer banner tied just above the skiff’s sail.