The Nine Pound Hammer

by John Claude Bemis

  “It wasn’t his fault,” Si said.

  “I know,” said the Pirate Queen. “But Eustace never saw it that way. What he didn’t realize until then was that his emotions could get the better of his senses. He felt pride, pride that he was finally impressing his father. It betrayed him that day. No, he was never the same after that. Always blamed himself for what happened. It’s what led him to becoming an outlaw, what led him to us, until the Ramblers saved him from his own ruination.”

  The Pirate Queen shifted her eyes across the room to her sullen pirates. “Quit this moping. We need music.”

  “Aye,” Mister Lamprey said, clambering drunkenly to his feet. “No rue and repining tonight.” Kicking a pirate from his chair, the fish-eyed Lamprey bellowed, “You heard the lady, you sour cretins. Strike up the band!” Movement and warmth returned suddenly to the galley.

  Mister Lamprey produced a button accordion from a shelf, and other pirates traded their plates and knives for whatever musical instrument was at hand: spoons, a triangle, a washboard. A trio of pirates played bass by blowing on empty crockery jugs. The music forced Buck’s dark tale from Ray’s mind. A strange, jangling song began with a melody he could hardly follow. But the pirates seemed to know it or at least its chorus, and all shouted the refrain in baritone unison—except for Piglet, who gave a piercing squeak—as it came around each time.

  A romping dance began as the three heroes were pulled to their feet. Conker danced with Si. Piglet threw Ray around in a series of twirls, and as there was little choice in female dance partners—and none dared ask their queen to dance—every pirate not playing an instrument simply grabbed whoever was nearest. Hobnob’s crime seemed to be forgotten as he danced with Big Jimmie.

  After several songs, Ray was able to escape and follow Si and Conker back to the velvet cushion by the Pirate Queen.

  The Pirate Queen sat as no other woman Ray had ever seen. She slouched off to one side with an elbow on the cushion and kicked one of her high-booted feet out upon the table. Despite her volatile temper, Ray knew he liked her immensely and felt he understood why Buck had fallen in love with her.

  The Pirate Queen let her gaze shift from Conker to Si and then to Ray, curiosity or maybe suspicion filling the dark-rimmed eyes with a stormy light.

  “I was ready to get rid of that music box,” she growled at Ray. “But you stopped me. Why?”

  The ruckus in the galley was enormous, and Si and Conker leaned in anxiously to hear.

  “I knew Si could guide you to safety,” Ray said. “I trusted her.”

  A wicked, playful smile curled at the corners of the Pirate Queen’s lips.

  Conker, who had not been in the pilothouse with them, asked, “What’s the music box?”

  The Pirate Queen gulped the last of her claret before pouring another.

  “I’ll tell you children, there are strange things in this world. Mermaids even. Do you believe that?” Her eyes fogged a moment with the effects of the wine, but she continued. “I bought that music box years ago from a sea captain in Havana. Said it played their song, which is known to charm many a sailor to his death. But he told me the real value was that if you ever encountered a mermaid, it could charm them back. You could have a mermaid ready to do your bidding.

  “That sea captain didn’t really believe this, however. He thought it was nothing more than a child’s amusement, but he had never seen a mermaid for real. I have. They’re a rarity, mind you, but sometimes on a remote key or swimming along the reefs … I knew a music box that played a mermaid’s chantey could be real handy if the time ever came that the Snapdragon ran into a brood of siren sisters.”

  Ray’s heart was racing.

  The Pirate Queen dropped her foot from the table. Her eyes narrowed as she looked hard at Ray. “I know what you’re hiding, Ramblers. I suspect even a pea-brain like Big Jimmie over there could figure it out. You’re taken up with Eustace Buckthorn, a certified friend of the Ramblers. And here I am, listening out for things as I do. Little time back, I hear how the Ramblers are all killed, hunted down by the Gog and murdered. Why? The way I hear it, the Ramblers are protecting a siren.

  “And here you are, a couple of scruffs working in Peg Leg Nel’s medicine show, where Eustace’s working, too. And you tell me not to give the Gog the music box! Nel’s harboring that siren, ain’t he?”

  Ray looked down at his shifting hands.

  “Get up, you scruffs.” The Pirate Queen extinguished her cigar in a half-finished glass of wine and rose to her feet. “Come with me.”

  Ray got up nervously. Si gave Conker an anxious glance, but Ray motioned for them to follow. What choice did they have?

  The Pirate Queen led the three through the boisterous destruction that had once been the galley. Shoving aside drunken dancers, she grabbed Mister Lamprey by the hair of his beard. “Where did you put the box?”

  Lamprey’s eyes watered as he said, “Down … down in the vault, my lady.”

  She pushed him toward the fray of dancers and curled her finger back at Ray, Si, and Conker to follow. They went down a companionway to a lower deck. At the end of a hall, she produced a set of keys and unlocked a door.

  As she lit an oil lamp on the wall, Ray realized that this was the booty room. Treasure from hundreds of pillaging missions all up the waterways of the Mississippi River basin lay before them. It was just as Ray imagined Blackbeard’s hoard would look were he still marauding in this age. There were gilded mirrors, jewel-encrusted necklaces, and scores of gold and silver objects, but there were also stacks of now-worthless Confederate money, bellows folding cameras, a nickelodeon, and even a taffy-pulling machine.

  The Pirate Queen waded her way through the room, tossing lavish items about as if they were nothing more than salvage-yard scraps. The others looked about with slack-jawed amazement. This was better than any mercantile, better than any museum.

  “Come here,” she ordered. “I have one last demand if I’m to set you free.”

  On the table was the painted trunk. The Pirate Queen opened the lid and removed a crank box with a tiny curved horn. Then she pulled out a wax cylinder. After fastening it together, she turned the handle. Conker froze as the music began. It was just as Ray remembered Jolie’s singing, but in a sweeter, sharper voice. As he listened closely, he noted that there were many voices singing together in unison. He felt again the uncontrollable desire to hear the music better, to do whatever the singer asked, if only the song would continue.

  “Sounds wretched,” Si said, hands over her ears.

  Conker swayed and his eyes fluttered. “It … it … it’s the prettiest thing I ever heard,” Conker sighed.

  The Pirate Queen stopped it abruptly. “Can’t stand it either,” she said to Si. She disassembled the music box and returned it to the brightly painted trunk. As she handed it to Ray, she said, “The Gog will keep hunting for me until he gets this. I’ll not risk my ship another day with this menace on board. Take it, before I toss it in the river.”

  Ray picked it up hesitantly. “Thank you. I appreciate—”

  The Pirate Queen snarled off his gratitude, saying, “I suppose I don’t need to remind you that you should take special care with this. Keep it secret. Keep it hidden. I’m not sure why the Gog wants a siren, but the fact that he’s returned, after we’ve heard nothing of him for so long, worries me.”

  “Somebody has to stop the Gog,” Ray said. “Won’t you help?”

  A strange smile, full of sadness and admiration, tensed on the Pirate Queen’s face. “I have no desire to see whatever evil the Gog is building come to completion, Ray. But if it comes to fighting, I’ll not put my neck out for him to lop off.” She paused, a smirk coming to her face. “But help? I might have something that will help. Just maybe …”

  The Pirate Queen fixed Conker in a penetrating gaze. “I’ve got my suspicions about something.”

  Conker looked at her curiously.

  She went to a chifforobe at the far wall. Opening the
cabinet, she removed something long and wrapped in a black shroud of waxed cerecloth. She carried it back and set it down before Conker.

  The Pirate Queen spoke low and solemnly to Conker. “If my instinct is right—and I’ll know in a moment if it is—then this is meant for you.”

  Pulling back the coarse cloth, she exposed the corner of an octagonal block of iron and then tugged off the entire cloth to reveal a long-handled hammer. It could have been any hammer used by thousands of workmen to break rocks or drive railroad spikes. But by the fragile trembling of emotion that came to Conker’s face, Ray knew it was no ordinary hammer.

  “It can’t be possible. … ” He touched his fingers to the raw weathered wood of the handle.

  “Yes,” the Pirate Queen said. “I thought as much. When you pulled my steamer off that shoal tonight, I thought there was only one person who could do such a feat, only one other with that kind of strength. This hammer gave you the strength to do it, Conker. There is no denying the resemblance. You’re John Henry’s son.”

  Si asked, “But what … Conker, what is it?”

  Not taking his eyes from the hammer, he whispered, “My father’s weapon. The Nine Pound Hammer.”

  “RAY.”

  He heard his name in his sleep, and when it dawned on him that it wasn’t part of his dream, Ray opened his eyes.

  The yellow explosion of Hobnob’s hair gave Ray a start.

  “You awake?” Hobnob smiled.

  Ray looked around and saw he was the last one still sleeping in the galley. He could hear the pirates’ voices bouncing cheerfully around the decks up above. The disaster that had been the galley was now back to relative order, although how Ray had slept through it all remained a mystery.

  “Is it still morning?” Ray’s voice croaked with sleep.

  “Not yet even midmorning. Been wanting to talk to you when the others weren’t about.”

  Ray sat up on the velvet cushion, wiping the crust from his eyes.

  “You en’t told her, have you?” Hobnob squatted at Ray’s side, his dandelion hat on his knee.

  “What?” Ray asked.

  “That you was the one that set me free in the Lost Wood.”

  “Oh. No.”

  “That’s good. Don’t tell her. Best not. She’ll have our thumbs if she knows the long and short of it all. But this is twice you done me a good turn.” Hobnob poked a friendly finger against Ray’s chest.

  “That’s okay—”

  “I’ve got a mind to pay you back, Ray. Set things square, if you see.”

  Before Ray could argue, Hobnob plucked a dandelion from the hat.

  “You take this. Ever you get in a fix just give three claps of your hands, call my name three times, and blow three breaths on the petals. Got that?”

  “Sure,” Ray said, taking the flower.

  “I’ll come, anywhere. None’s the difference where you might be.”

  Since Hobnob could fly, this gave Ray an idea. “Actually, I do have something you could do.”

  “That right?” Hobnob asked enthusiastically.

  “I’ve got a sister; her name’s Sally. Before I met you, she was heading south on an orphan train and has probably been adopted by now. The only thing is, my father is still alive.”

  “He is! Congratulations.” Hobnob smiled.

  “But see, I don’t know where he is. It’s too much to explain, but if he does come back, he’d want to meet my sister. And I’ve got no idea where she is.”

  “Ah, you want to find her? I see. I see. Wanting to keep kin with kin; that’s it, en’t it? My poor old ma. Left her back in the old country—”

  “Right. Can you help?”

  “I’ll do my best, Ray. You know what towns that train was heading to?”

  “No.”

  “Rail line, any such like that?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “None’s the difference. I’ll do my best—”

  “Oh. The woman who was arranging the adoptions is Miss Corey, Constance Corey, I think. And this rich man named Grevol owned the train. It was a beautiful train. Really fancy. That might help.”

  “Sure. I’ll poke around, ask some questions, and drop by your medicine show to let you know what I find.”

  “Thanks,” Ray said. “And of course, if I can ever help you—”

  “No, no.” Hobnob waved his hands. “Least I can do.”

  Ray got to his feet and followed Hobnob out into the bright sun of the deck.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry I can’t persuade you three,” the Pirate Queen said. “I’ve been known from time to time to keep a promise, and I suppose you’ve earned your freedom.”

  The Pirate Queen’s arms were locked behind her coat as she walked to the stern. The crew was busy readying the steamer while the Pirate Queen spoke with Ray, Si, and Conker.

  “We’re taking the Snapdragon south, out into the Gulf. The Gog will be looking for us, and it’s best we put some distance between us and him.”

  She produced an envelope sealed with drops of black wax and handed it to Ray. “For Eustace. Can I trust that he’ll get it?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ray said, placing it in his pocket next to the toby containing the dandelion and the rabbit’s foot.

  She escorted the three to the gangplank that led to a grassy bank by the mouth of the creek. Ray held the siren-song music box, secured in a gunnysack. Conker had the cerecloth-covered Nine Pound Hammer over his shoulder.

  “I do hope we meet again.” The Pirate Queen smiled briefly and shook each of their hands. “You’ll find your way back to Peg Leg Nel’s train?”

  Si lifted her tattooed hand. “Four days’ travel northeast.”

  “Well, be careful and stay to the woods if you can.”

  “We will,” Ray assured her. He waved to the crew, who had stopped their work to watch the three depart. The ragtag pirates pressed around the bulwarks and waved heartily. The Pirate Queen drew her pistol and shot it several times over their heads, cursing and roaring until they scuttled back to their posts.

  The adventure aboard the Snapdragon had deepened the friendship between Ray, Si, and Conker. As they traveled across the wooded lowlands, they laughed and retold stories of the feats they had each performed, over and over. By campfire at night, Si especially enjoyed mimicking Conker’s reaction to Rosie and the way Conker had tried to fight Big Jimmie. Conker retaliated with his own version of Si tied to the crane and desperate to murder the Pirate Queen, but even Conker had to agree it wasn’t nearly as funny.

  As they traveled toward the medicine show, their conversations returned to everyday life on the Ballyhoo. Ray was not sure why, but Conker began acting strange. A glum mood descended over him as they got closer to home.

  “Conker, think you’ll change your act after what happened on the Snapdragon?” Ray asked one afternoon in an effort to lift his spirits. “With the Nine Pound Hammer you could pull the whole Ballyhoo—”

  “I’m not changing nothing, Ray,” Conker said quickly, drawing the Nine Pound Hammer close against his side. “I don’t want you telling Nel about that.”

  “Why not?” Ray asked.

  “Just don’t.”

  They were quiet for some time after that. When they stopped for the night, Si and Ray went off to gather firewood.

  “What’s going on with Conker?” Ray asked her. “Why’s he want to keep what happened from Nel?”

  She picked up a broken branch and stuck it beneath her arm.

  “You have to understand, Ray, Nel took us in, all of us in the medicine show. Conker never knew John Henry. His mother, Polly Ann, died not long after John Henry did. Conker was just a baby then. Nel is the closest thing he’s ever had to a father. Conker would never want to do anything to upset Nel. And Nel would never want us to run off and try to stop the Gog, not that we’d stand a chance at stopping him anyway. But now Conker’s been given his father’s hammer!”

  Ray said, “The Nine Pound Hammer. Looks like about
ninety pounds!”

  Si agreed with a nod. “Conker must see a new path before him, and it’s not Nel’s path or that of the medicine show. It’s the path of taking up his father’s hammer and destroying the Gog. Carrying on his father’s work.”

  Ray picked up some more branches as he thought about what Si had said. “Were your parents Ramblers, Si?”

  Si continued collecting sticks. After a few moments Ray thought she was ignoring him, but then she said, “I’m not sure.”

  Si cast a glance at Ray, adjusted the sticks, and continued, “My parents came with their families across the Pacific to California, my father and his brothers all wanting to get rich working on the railroad. I was the youngest of four sisters. Having all girls was bad enough, but being the fourth was … an unlucky omen, as my uncles and aunts saw it. My name means four, a number that’s associated with death in China. But the worst of all was how I was born with a black hand.”

  Si’s gaze lingered a moment on her hand, holding the bundle of firewood. “My parents left. Maybe to help John Henry fight the Gog. My uncle, who was taking care of me, thought I was cursed, some sort of demon. When my parents never returned and relatives of ours started dying mysteriously, my uncle took me on a trip into town. At least that’s what he said we were doing. He tied me up and left me in the woods.”

  Ray saw the pain in her expression and knew that bringing up the memory was not easy. Si heaved her chest in a sigh, but then scowled as her ferocity returned.

  “I got loose. At the time it seemed so simple. I didn’t realize that those knots would have been impossible for any other little girl to untie. It was also simple for me to find my way back home. It was my hand. The markings came up on it for the first time. They showed me the way.

  “When I returned, my uncle was horrified. But my aunt must have felt some sympathy for me. She knew Mister Everett. He worked on the same railroad as my family at the time. Mister Everett told her about a man he knew who could take me in—a man who understood about such things as the strange markings on my hand. Without so much as a hug or a goodbye, she gave me to Mister Everett. And he took me to Nel.” She shrugged and bent once more to collect another branch.