Jim Morgan and the Pirates of the Black Skull

by James Raney

  TWENTY–ONE

  he first barrage of bolts struck the sea around the stalwart Spectre. The onslaught was so sudden and ferocious that the pirate battle came to a sudden halt on the ship’s deck. The Corsairs and Steele’s crew stared in horror at the impossible power descending upon them. Even Percival gave up chasing the owls. He drew his long body from the deck of the Spectre and held himself upright and stared into the clouds. The two giant birds fled for their lives into the night.

  Another bolt came closer. Then another found its mark. A flash of sizzling heat and blue light blew open a hole in the center of the quarterdeck. The explosion tossed Jim into a heap by the Spectre’s wheel.

  Jim’s ears rang as he struggled to sit back up. Lightning bolts were now pouring from the storm’s eyes. Before him, on the quarterdeck, a perfect ring of orange fire burned around the hole where the lightning had struck. Jim saw Philus sprawled on the deck. The sorcerer was on all fours and reaching for the shell, which had fallen from his grasp.

  Jim staggered to his feet. Not far from him, his tattered jacket still lay on the deck, soaked from the rain. A plan took shape in Jim’s mind. If he could beat Philus to the shell and cover it with his jacket, even hurl it into the sea – he might be able to stave off this magic storm and save the lives of his friends. But it was only then that Jim realized he no longer saw either the Ratts or Lacey on the deck.

  Where were they? Jim’s heart pounded. For a moment he thought the worst, that they had been struck by the great bolt and thrown into the angry sea, or burned into nothing. Then Jim spied two small hands desperately gripping a frayed rope, which hung from the singed aft railing.

  Philus had nearly reached the shell, still aglow in purple flame, but for Jim, there was now no choice. He stepped back against Mister Gilly’s wheel and took a deep breath, then ran and launched himself over the flaming hole in the ship. He landed hard and slid into the railing. Jim grabbed on to whoever’s hands held the rope and peered over the edge of the ship to find that those particular hands belonged to George Ratt. Below him hung, Lacey, Peter, Paul, and Cornelius in a chain of wide-eyed and terrified faces.

  “You’ve all been eatin’ spare meals behind me back, ‘aven’t you?” George screamed, straining against the rope. “You feel like four great rocks tied to me legs!”

  “George Ratt, we are no heavier than your big head!” Lacey screamed. But though Jim had arrived in time to help his friends, there was no one to help him. The rope snapped under the weight of the Ratts and Lacey. As they fell, they dragged Jim overboard behind them. A scream started in Jim’s chest, but when he hit the water the air was jarred from his lungs. The waves churned over Jim’s head and threatened to drag him into the deep. Jim blindly reached for his friends’ hands. If they were going to sink, he wanted to be together.

  But two lights lit the darkness beneath the surface – two orbs like molten globes. Percival the water dragon had not abandoned his new friends. The great sea serpent brought his head beneath the children and lifted them up from the waves in one swoop. The entire clan plus one half-drowned raven broke the surface, all of them coughing and spitting seawater from their mouths.

  “Thank you, Percival!” Jim shouted, patting the water dragon’s snout.

  “You are still under my protection, are you not?” Percival growled. “I am bound by honor to uphold my duty!”

  “Well, you’re doing marvelously!” Jim said. Then he turned to his friends. “Are you all alright?”

  “Don’t worry about us, boy!” Cornelius squawked. “Get the shell, lad, the shell!”

  “I’m after it, Cornelius,” Jim said. “Percival, take the others out of the storm’s reach!” Before his friends had a chance to protest, Jim leapt from Percival’s snout over the Spectre’s railings, as the water dragon swam back from the ship. But by the time Jim dove within reach of the shell, he found he was again too late. Philus was already on his feet. He held the shell in his hands. The purple magic burned bright and the old sorcerer wore a sneer upon his lips.

  “How many times will you choose so poorly, young Morgan? You truly are a fool. You don’t deserve this magic.” Philus glanced up at the face in the clouds. It still bore down on the ship, eyes flashing with yet another burst of lightning. “Goodbye, Jim Morgan,” Philus said. “When I see you again, you shall kneel at my feet.”

  Philus pulled his flute from his pocket, placing it to his lips to transform himself into some manner of beast, no doubt. But yet again, as he had so many times before, Dread Steele appeared from nowhere to fight for Jim and his friends. The Captain leapt over the burning hole and landed on his feet. With one slash of his cutlass he struck the enchanted flute with the flat of his blade and sent it clattering to the deck. Philus Philonius howled as he fell back from Dread Steele.

  “Enough!” shouted Steele. “You have given us too much grief for one day, magician. You shall trouble us no more.”

  “Stay back, dark shadow!” Philus squealed. “The shell is mine! And the Treasure of the Ocean shall be mine as well!”

  Steele raised his sword to strike down the quailing wizard, but just before his doom, Philus Philonius burst into tears. Without his magic flute and the power to transform, he was lost. The little sorcerer fell to his knees, trembling shamelessly before the pirate captain. At the pitiful sight of a grown man groveling, much less one that had for so long masqueraded as a pirate of the sea, Dread Steele’s gray eyes softened. He lowered his blade, and like a father taking a toy from a disobedient child, the pirate captain contented himself to pry the shell from Philus’s grasp. Yet even in light of this mercy, Philus refused to relinquish his prize. He choked back his tears, screaming and cursing, and clung to the shell with both hands.

  As Jim watched Steele and Philus wrestle for the shell, the magic talisman burned hotter and hotter. Violet flames washed over the deck and the railings. Jim looked to the sky and caught a startled scream in his throat. The lightning eyes of the storm’s face blazed to strike again.

  “Steele!” Jim cried above the gale’s roar. “The storm!”

  The crack of burning air and the rumble of shattered sky tossed Jim’s warning to the waves. With all its might, the storm lashed the deck of the Spectre with a crooked blade of lightning. A twisting tongue of blue fire raced down from the crimson face in the clouds and at last found its target. It struck the shell with a blow so powerful it swept Jim and his friends from their feet and sent them tumbling across the deck. The taunting, thunderous laugh of the storm rumbled above it all.

  Silence followed.

  The rain stopped falling and the wind ceased blowing.

  In the stillness, Jim lifted his head, slowly, painfully. He saw Steele and Philus, thrown to the deck like scattered leaves in the wind. The shell lay between them, split perfectly in two halves, the shorn edges aglow like molten steel.

  TWENTY–TWO

  he crimson face in the black clouds melted away and the funnel withdrew. The storm, as if satisfied at last, gathered into itself and crawled across the sky. The last claps of thunder echoed off the ocean waves in its wake.

  Stars appeared again. The ocean stilled. A quiet, thick as fog, fell over the deck. All pirates, both Corsair and Buccaneer alike, stared blankly at each other or into the sky, as though they had all woken from the same dream at the same time.

  Count Cromier’s enraged scream shattered the silence.

  “Impossible!” The Red Count cried, picking himself up from the deck where Dread Steele had thrown him down in defeat. “This cannot be!”

  Cromier stormed up the stairs and over the burnt remains of the quarterdeck to where the two halves of the shell now lay, lightless, dull, and bereft of all magic. “Lost! All lost!” Cromier screamed again. He collected one of the shell’s halves and turned it over in trembling hands. His purple scar quivered violently upon his face.

  While Cromier stood stunned, Jim gathered his wits and leapt to his feet. He ran across the deck and seized the other half o
f the shell before Cromier could take it as well. The Count lifted his eyes, wide and crazed.

  “Give that to me, now, you cursed son of Morgan!” Cromier spat. He clenched his teeth so tight Jim thought they would break into pieces in the Count’s mouth.

  “It’s broken,” Jim said. His heart beat wildly as he looked into the Count’s mad eyes, but he refused to back away. “As you said, it’s lost. The way to the Treasure is lost. Perhaps it is better that way. It’s over.”

  “Over?” said the Count, scoffing. A grotesque smile twisted his face. “No, no, no, my boy.” Cromier squeezed one gloved hand into a fist. “It will never be over, not as long as I draw breath! But for you… for you, young Morgan, it is over. I was a fool to keep my son from cutting out your heart on that island. Now I shall amend my lone mistake.”

  “At last, father,” Bartholomew said, conscious again and appearing at his father’s side. A nasty cut bled on his head from where Dread Steele had struck him, but Bartholomew’s sword was in his hand. “I am by your side, father. Together we shall yet complete our quest, until we alone hold the power of the Treasure in our grasp. Then the world will tremble beneath our feet!”

  “Yes, my son.” Cromier flicked his pitiless eyes only for a moment to the fallen form of Philus Philonius, who had not moved. Then he called out to the remaining pirates of the Sea Spider. “Men! What share was once meant for your captain, shall now be divided amongst you. Take no prisoners and show no mercy.”

  The Corsairs shouted their fierce acceptance of this new deal, more loyal to gold, it seemed, than their defeated captain. The men of the Spectre, however, bruised and battered and bleeding, from old MacGuffy to sleepy Mister Gilly, hardly raised a sword to their defense. The mighty Dread Steele lay as still as Philus Philonius on the deck. He did not rise to lead them or call out to give them hope. Jim’s heart pumped fear into his blood as the Corsairs closed in on the quarterdeck, pushing back the Spectre’s men. Jim clutched his half of the shell close to his chest, though he held little hope that his strength would be enough to keep it from the Count or his pirates.

  Jim closed his eyes and waited for the cold sensation of steel to touch his skin, when a shrill cry pierced the air as Bartholomew shrieked in pain. Jim’s eyes flew open to find an arrow quivering in Bartholomew Cromier’s arm. The pale captain dropped his sword and it clattered to the deck. The bolt in his shoulder was a white arrow – fashioned from coral of the sea.

  The Queen of the Sea, Melodia, and her people had returned. Fulkern and his warriors loosed arrow after arrow and spear after spear at the Cromiers and their men. The merpeople burst from the water and unleashed their attack on the Corsairs, who fled from even the sight of the sea-folk. They all but trampled one another beneath their own boots to escape to the deck of the Sea Spider. But flight would not come easily for the Count’s thugs.

  A fountain of seawater exploded into the sky as Percival returned, the Ratts and Lacey upon his back. He rose up over the decks. The water dragon unleashed his roar with such fury that it sent Corsairs tumbling overboard and into the waves, where the merpeople dragged them into the depths.

  Count Cromier turned about in a circle. He watched hopelessly as his hired army was chased by the sea-folk’s spears from the left, and swept into the sea by a water dragon of the deep to the right.

  “Do not think this means you have won, Jim Morgan!” The Count vowed, stabbing a black-gloved finger in Jim’s face. “A pirate does not live so long as I have lived without learning how to survive a single defeat. No, this is not the end, boy. Do not sleep with both eyes closed. Do not rest with your windows open. Do not sit with your back to a door. When you least expect it, I shall return. I shall take what is mine! When I finally possess the power of the Treasure of the Ocean, I shall bend all of its might toward your unending suffering!”

  The Count seized Bartholomew by his wounded shoulder, drawing a pained yelp from his son. He then withdrew a small pouch from his pocket. Tipping the pouch over in his hand, the Count poured black powder in a ring on the deck. No sooner did the Cromiers step into the ring than the black powder began to swirl. Faster and faster it turned until it became a black cyclone of smoke that blew away on the ocean wind, leaving not even a trace of the Count or Bartholomew behind.

  When the two villains had vanished in the night, Jim ran across the deck and threw himself down at Dread Steele’s side. Soot smudged the Captain’s face. His shirt and waistcoat were singed black from the lightning bolt that had cleaved the Hunter’s Shell in two. Jim gently shook the Captain’s shoulder.

  “Captain,” Jim whispered. “Captain Steele?” The pirate crew of the Spectre, MacGuffy and Mufwalme at their head, now gathered around their fallen leader. Just when Jim had given up all hope that Steele would ever stir again, the pirate’s eyes quivered and his lids opened half way. His chapped, burnt lips parted just enough for a few hushed words to sneak through.

  “Cromiers gone? Crew safe?”

  “Yes,” said Jim. A hot fire burned in his throat and stung his eyes. “The storm is gone. Queen Melodia came. She and Percival drove the corsairs away. The Count and Bartholomew escaped in a black cloud.”

  “The shell?” Steele asked. Even his whisper began to fail.

  “It’s shorn in two, Captain.” Jim’s words shook and his tears brimmed. “I have one half of it. Cromier has the other. But the magic in the shell is dead, I think. I don’t believe anyone will find the Treasure of the Ocean now, Captain. Maybe it’s better that way.”

  Steele weakly shook his head. “There is always a way. The sea is a million roads...full of…storms…”

  “I know,” Jim said. “I won’t let them get me lost again.” His chin quivered uncontrollably.

  “I’m sorry, Jim. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what, sir?” Jim leaned closer to the Captain, for his words grew softer with each breath.

  “I will not finish this adventure with you.” Steele lifted one hand and pointed to Jim’s chest. “Though there be ten thousand storms, sail on, Jim. I sail on.” Then Dread Steele, shadow of the sea, smiled. It was a quivering grin on his lips that remembered a younger man from brighter days long gone. Then he breathed his last.

  Only gently crackling flames and a whispering wind in the slack sails of the great ship Spectre marked the passing of Dread Steele, Lord of the Pirates. Two great tears spilt from Jim’s eyes. They rolled down his face to drop onto the pirate’s cheeks above his smile, like tears of joy on a sea-worn face.

  TWENTY–THREE

  ome miles from the Devil’s Horns, across the sea, a lonely atoll rose from the waves. It was not much more than a hill of sand and a circle of palm trees at its crest. In the dim morning gray, Jim, the Ratts, Lacey, and all the crew of the Spectre stood on the beach, heads down and hats in their hands. Melodia, Queen of the Merpeople, and her folk treaded nearby in the shallow waters. Even Percival, last of the water dragons, looked on from the deeper sea beyond the anchored ship.

  In the bottom of a small dinghy, resting on a bed of palms from the island’s trees, Dread Steele lay with his eyes closed and face toward the sky. Jim had laid Dread Steele’s cutlass and his pistol beside the Captain when the pirates had put him in the boat, and Lacey had kissed his forehead. The Ratts placed one of the toy soldiers Jim had gifted them for Christmas into the boat, for it was all they had to give.

  A cool, ocean wind blew across the waves, ruffling cloaks and stinging tear-stained faces. MacGuffy, who was holding the little boat against the tide, opened his mouth to speak some words, but they caught in the old man’s throat and refused to come. The aged pirate shook his scarred head and his old chin trembled. Finally, Queen Melodia swam from her people to the side of the boat. Her golden hair shone even before the dawn and her voice rang like a choir of bells.

  “There are those in this world who live in the shadows. Sometimes, only when they are gone, do we see they did so to bring light to the darkness. Goodbye, Dread Steele, last Friend of the S
ea. Your light will shine on the shores of the country to where you now sail. May it show the way for we who shall one day follow.”

  Melodia bent down and kissed Dread Steele on the forehead. Then she whispered a few words in her own tongue. At her touch, the small dinghy began to glow. A magic flame spread across every board and nail until it shone the brightest gold. Without so much as a push or pull the little boat glided out on the waters, sailing toward the horizon.

  “Sail on, me Cap’n!” MacGuffy cried, great rolling tears falling from his one good eye. “Nothin’ can stop the man of the sea from sailin’ home, not even death.”

  “Sail on,” said the crew of the Spectre, and even Lacey and the Ratts.

  “Sail on, Dread Steele,” Jim whispered. Quite unexpectedly, in spite of his own tears, a smile found its way on Jim’s face. He imagined that perhaps Dread Steele would not be alone when he came to the shores of the next world. Perhaps Lindsay Morgan would be waiting there for him. “Morgan and Steele, together again,” Jim said.

  Before the boat disappeared from sight, the sun rose over the west and painted a golden path upon the waves. It seemed to Jim that the little boat traveled that shining road to some place beyond where the ocean met the sky.

  That same morning, the ocean breeze blew warm and drove the clouds away. The Spectre’s crew readied to hoist anchor and set sail for home. Jim, Lacey, George, Peter, and Paul stood at the prow to say their goodbyes. Percival swam up alongside the Spectre. The spines along his head and his curved teeth flashed in the sun. Jim reached over the railing and petted Percival on his scaly nose.

  “Goodbye, Percival,” Jim said. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

  “You are most welcome, young Jim Morgan,” the sea serpent replied in the softest growl he could manage. “I am sorry for all that you have lost. For the shell yes, which was a powerful talisman left by your father. But more so for the loss of your friend.”