Pirates of Savannah: The Complete Trilogy - Colonial Historical Fiction Action Adventure (Pirates of Savannah (Adult Version))

by Tarrin P. Lupo

  “We will surrender the rum but only in exchange for a story.” The madam captain offered.

  “Arrrr, that be a deal, Captain. Which tale would ya like me to spin?” Brewer offered back.

  “I want you to tell THE story,” she snapped back.

  K.T. Brewer became visibly upset and grew deadly serious, “No, Captain! Please! Not THAT story!”

  “Good sir, you already accepted a deal for me rum, it would be a curse to break your word.”

  “True, I cannot breaks me word, but let me at least have the rum first,” the salty man said as he sat down.

  April ordered her crew to bring him the illegal spirit as the one-legged man told his tale. The crew fell silent and it seemed like even the waves in the ocean quieted just to hear his story. A cold and creepy wind suddenly blew across the deck as he spun his tale.

  “The year be 1690 and I was a young man sailing with a Danish crew on a barky called the Zeebrug. We were in the Southern Atlantic waters when we found her adrift. She was a Portuguese merchantman called the Marialva and had been lost at sea for three years. It left West Africa with a hold full of slaves but never arrived in Brazil.”

  He started sweating and turning white as he continued, “Our Captain ordered us to board the vessel and salvage anything of value. When we boarded, me crewmates swore they heard noises coming from the cargo hold. I told them it was impossible, the Marialva had been adrift for three years, nothing could be alive. To prove it to them, I opened the cargo hold and as I descended, the crew followed. I knew something was not right by the horrible smell in the hold. When I lit my lamp, the moaning started. The slaves were still chained to the floor and violently tried to break loose. Most the crew screamed and scurried up the ladder, but I wanted to stay and help the hungry souls. It was not till I got closer did I see it.” He stopped his story and the old sailor started quivering like a child.

  Patrick handed him another drink. “Here, take mine. Tell me, what did you see down in that cargo hold, Captain?”

  The old man took a sip and nervously looked back and forth. He took a deep breath to settle his nerves. “When I got an eyeful of the slaves, I realized they were no longer of this world. They were not dead, but not alive either, trapped in a state somewhere in between; they be soulless men. Every one of the slaves had a bite-sized piece of flesh missing on their necks. Their eyes were all white and sunken into their skulls. I pissed me leg and ran up the ladder. Me crew was so scared that they had left me behind and were rowing away. With a running jump, I landed in the Jolly boat but shattered me leg. “

  The soulless men of the Marialva

  He continued while rubbing his Ivory tusk leg. “When we got back, our horrified crew told our captain what was really over there. He believed us because he had never seen such a hardened crew so afraid. He opened fire on the Marialva and sunk it into the drink. While I was in the hold, only one other body was found by my crewmates when they searched the rest of the ship. No lifeboats were aboard and only the captain’s corpse was found. He had locked himself in his own chamber and blew his own head off.”

  He stared vacantly at Patrick and reflected. “Matey, I have thought about those poor souls everyday. I can see those undead creatures pulling on their chains and moaning as they reached for me. To think of the horror of what those poor souls saw. Maybe whatever infected them moved through them one by one. As one slave slowly turned, the others could do nothing but watch. When he finished changing, the slave would turn and bite the next slave chained to him. Those cursed souls watched as the infection slowly moved down the line of people. Everyday those images be burned into me mind I can still hear the moans and wails in me sleep.”

  The young man felt a cold shiver run up his back as the frightened old man drank his rum. April grabbed Patrick’s hand to snap him back to reality.

  “Thank you for sharing your story. Our agreement has now been satisfied, so drink all the rum you like,” the madam captain announced.

  “Lass, it seems my whole bloodline has seen supernatural activity. Let me tell you the story of my great grandfather and what he saw on Roanoke Island, North Carolina. It will make your skin crawl right off,” the salty dog warned. “In 1587, me kin was there on that island! He witnessed eleven English colonists go searching the mainland for food. Three weeks later only one terrified soul returned. He told the colony the party was attacked by savages who were impervious to shot and blade. He described them as having putrid, worm-ridden skin just like the creatures I saw.”

  He ordered another glass of rum and continued, “The survivor said they battled the savages. Only one of the eleven men died, but four of the others were badly ripped up. Those four died the next day and were buried. Their corpses rose from their graves and ate their former party alive. Only the survivor escaped. Me great-grandfather told me that the colony magistrate did not believe the survivor and had him hung. The magistrate ordered a second party to go recover the corpses so heathens would not desecrate their remains. Out of that second party, only five mauled and starched up souls returned. They vindicated the previous survivor by recounting the same story of being attacked by undead savages. Within hours, the five men died and rose from the grave. The local Indians knew about the terror and arrived in the town as the corpses were attacking the colonists. My great-grandfather hid in a bush as he watched Indians from the Croatan Nation round up all of the colonists and the infected and burned them alive. He was the only survivor to tell the tale of why the first English settlement in the New World vanished overnight. Nobody believed him, either, and thought he was cursed, just like people think I am cursed.”

  Patrick was bright white with fear and his skin was ice cold. “I think this young man has had the piss scared out of him. That will be enough. Go teach me crew a new shanty,” April commanded.

  The frightened old sea captain did as he was ordered and he shuffled over to the rest of the exotic crew.

  The next day the Mary Read sailed slowly, stopping occasionally to drop nets into popular fishing holes. Patrick enjoyed the slow pace but found it hard to catch a nap on the deck after such a frightening tale. The ocean breeze was wonderful and he was thankfully free of the bloodsucking bugs who usually feasted on him on the mainland. April found Patrick staring at the sea birds and kicked him on his side ordering, “Well, I am glad you be enjoying your luxury voyage like a king but you got work to do.”

  “I think your crew has everything under control," Patrick boldly stated. "I am your escort, not your crew.”

  “My escort?!” she mocked with a laugh. "I did not realize I be deserving me own private escort. I really have made it to a queen’s life now.”

  “Well, I am a dandy of an escort and you’re welcome for your queenly life." he joked back. "I know this is the kind of courting you've always dreamt of." Patrick put his arms behind his head, reclining and commented, "You know, we'd both get beaten by lobster backs for our tongues."

  “So, is that what happened to your face, my wolf? You dared break His Royal Majesty's ridiculous laws?” the madam captain queried.

  “I guess so. I can’t keep up with what’s a law and what’s not. They are so arbitrary and people who claim they represent the king’s law just make up their own laws on top of the king’s. So many damn laws, how could a person know all of them?!” the blacksmith pondered.

  She solemnly replied, “My wolf, it is not confusing. There be only one law, do you know what it is?” Patrick shook his head no. She sat down next to him so they were touching shoulders. “The only law is obedience! That's all. All law breaks down to obedience and consequences. Do what the king and his men say, when they say it, or suffer their wrath.”

  “That sure does make it simple," the scarred man smirked. "You are wise for your many years."

  She elbowed him in the ribs and her voice changed. “You bastard! I be a hell of a catch. Men would throw themselves in the mouth of a sea monster just to hold me hand.”

  “If you want to beli
eve that a woman of your age could command that kind of admiration, you go ahead. I know it is important to exercise your mind at your age,” the man mocked.

  “Fuck you! I am to desirable, the most wanted lady in Savannah. You would die in lustful pleasure if I fucked you. I am still as young as I ever was. How old are you?” she challenged.

  Patrick had to stop and recount. It had been many years since someone cared enough to ask him his age and he had forgotten how old he was. “I think I am twenty-seven or twenty-eight. I can’t really recall. How many years of life have you seen?” he challenged back.

  “I am but a lass of twenty years,” she smiled back exposing the wrinkles around her eyes and lips. “Do you have a wife or family?”

  “I am still an indenture for the next several years. Sadly, I am not even allowed to court or call on a woman," Patrick frowned.

  “What?! That be pure blasphemy! You have not wet your wick with a woman the whole time you be here, you poor man?!”

  “I am embarrassed to say no I have not. In fact I never have in my life,” he shamefully confessed.

  “Now I know you be lying to me. You be twenty-seven, you should have many children by now. I know you at least fucked some whores. You don’t have to lie to me, my wolf,” she pushed.

  “No, not even a whore. It makes it very difficult to find a woman when you grow up in a prison full of men,” Patrick added.

  She looked sympathetically at the pain and embarrassment in his eyes as he shared his dubious past. She reached out and held his hand in her black glove. “I have no children. I spent my early years whoring. It ruined my mothering parts I suppose. By some miracle I stayed clean, but many harlots I know cannot have children because of all the diseases they carry in their privates,” she shared. After a moment of staring at Patrick, April finally offered, “Do you want to change that my wolf? Are you ready to spill your seed in a woman?”

  Patrick was completely taken aback by this upfront offer. He tried to speak, but just babbled nonsense. Taking Patrick by the hand and leading him below decks, April stated, “I assume that is a 'yes.' Come on, let’s go to my private captain’s chambers." Before they made their way, April called out to the crew commanding them not to bother her unless the ship was under attack. They were told to make their way slowly to Jekyl Island, keeping an eye out for Spanish ships and to continue fishing.

  After lighting a lamp in her cabin, April aggressively pinned Patrick to the bed. She made him watch as she slowly escaped out of her complicated outfit. Patrick gasped. The rumors were true. Tattoos completely covered April's skin. Her ink-marked breasts flickered in the lamplight as she undressed him.

  Chapter 14

  Swamp Swag

  and Jekyl Island

  Map of Jekyl Island (at the time it was spelled with one ‘L’)

  Crack! Blam!

  Isaac’s pig shot blew the man’s foot right off. William’s shot finished the man off as it peppered his face. Archibald also blasted his musket to cover Isaac and William’s retreat to reload. Li Go Che stood without fear as bandits closed in on them. Colorful arrows flew through the swamp and into a marauder’s chest. The pack mules were frightened by the musket shot and scattered into the swamps. The retreating men stopped in their tracks. Isaac began reloading his musket while William drew his large, Scottish two-handed claymore. He still preferred the traditional two-hand style to the new basket-hilted version, which he considered too English for his liking. The kilted man charged into the mix with a wild Scottish battle cry. Archibald followed suit and pulled his hunting blade as well. The battle-hardened Indian amazingly dropped two more thieves before the party was overrun. William lost all fear. He held his massive blade over his head and charged down a quivering road agent. The thief was paralyzed at the sight of the crazed man and froze. Archibald took advantage of the frightened, distracted man's mistake and pierced him below the ribs with his long blade. The bandit bent over and stumbled in pain. With his full momentum behind him, William dropped his blade on the thief’s neck. The head flew from the body as a fountain of blood poured from the neck. The eyes on the head still blinked as it rolled across the ground.

  This gruesome display deeply struck fear within the gang of road agents and most of them reversed their charge. William and Archibald then turned on one unlucky thief in striking distance. They struck with deadly synchronicity and it was impossible to block both blows. Archibald’s blade sliced deep between the neck and the shoulder. The spray of blood shot from the man, blinding the Scots and making them quickly wipe their eyes.

  The Indian used his bow to block a thief’s blade. The old man avoided the repeated blows by dodging and weaving. The masked bandit screamed in pain as Garland sank her teeth into his buttocks. As the road agent raised his blade to kill the dog, a colorful war club struck him in the face. A loud cracking noise of a skull breaking echoed through the fight. The old man struck the masked man again crushing his nose deep into his skull. The bandit dropped making a loud gurgling sound. Garland then turned on the man’s throat and spilled the rest of his life into the mud.

  Only four bandits were left and they were running for their lives. The Indian switched back to his bow and pierced two more men in the back. William finished the dying men on the ground with his blade. Isaac ran back to the line and finally joined the fight ready to fire again.

  The old Indian cussed loudly in Creek and kicked the dead masked man on the ground. Archibald panted, “Don’t worry I don’t think those two will come back.”

  “Not worried. Masked man’s blade chipped favorite bow!” he shouted as he kicked the dead man again.

  The group was still at a high sense of alert and a ready state of battle. Li Go Che covered the men as they scavenged the dead like vultures. No guns, just blades and a little silver. They stripped anything worthy of any value and left the dead bodies for the alligators.

  “I am surprised they followed us this deep into the swamps," Isaac stated. "Oy vey! I am getting really sick of bandits. They didn't even wait to try and kill us while we slept. They grow bolder and bolder and attack us while the sun is high.”

  “If we push fast, we can camp at the mounds by night fall,” Archibald reasoned.

  “Show respect, white man! We sleep outside of sacred burial ground or anger their spirits. No man sleeps near mounds! I am not ready to see the great-spirit horse yet!” the superstitious Indian demanded.

  “You are in charge, great chief. We will do anything you ask,” Archibald flattered.

  “We need find mules. They run off from musket noise,” the Indian command.

  “Just follow the track, lads," Archibald added. "Let’s get those mules back."

  The old man relaxed and nodded in approval. The party of blood-soaked men moved quickly deeper into the swamp. Within an hour, the mules were tracked down and they were back on their way to the mounds.

  * * *

  Patrick did not leave the arms of the naked woman for two days. He ran his fingers on her skin tracing her every tattoo. The two only stopped having sex to occasionally sleep, eat and to use the chamber bucket. For the first time in his life, he experienced euphoria. Nothing else mattered in life but the present moment. April slowly woke and mumbled, “I best be getting topside to make sure the crew has not sailed us to the Caribbean by now.”

  “You can go after one more time. I want to try you in the dog style again.”

  As Patrick pounced on the tattooed woman, there was a knock at the door. A muffled voice called through the closed door. “Cap'n. I knows I ain’t supposed to disturb ya, but ya best come up topside to see this.”

  “Very good, crewman," April growled. "I'll be up shortly.”

  The two naked lovers had a hard time finding all their garments. They were castoff all over the chamber. When the clothes were collected, they dressed as fast as they could but one of April’s boots could not be found. After five minutes of searching, the missing boot finally appeared. Both suited up into full war g
ear and headed deckside.

  The sun was setting and a storm was moving off in the distance. Low booms could be heard carrying across the water. “What’s that sound? Is that thunder from a coming storm?” Patrick inquired.

  “That be cannon fire, my wolf," April answered dryly. She then ordered a crewman to fetch her the spyglass to take a look. A black-skinned, exotic sailor handed her the spyglass and April immediately started to climb up the rigging. Patrick followed and ascended the mast as well. April had a top-of-the-line folding spyglass and it had excellent range. Her vision reached out across the distance to see a galleon firing upon a small trading ketch. She saw a British St. George jack on the galleon and a French jack on the ketch. Within minutes the fight was over and the small ketch was overtaken, so the madam captain ordered the men to fly the British jack so as to avoid the same fate. The crew opened a secret bottom in a rum barrel and pulled the matching jack out of their collection of flags. She then ordered them to set sail and move closer to the fight.

  It did not take long and the ketch was now flying a British jack. The two ships sailed away quickly as to avoid the incoming storm clouds. She watched until the two ships drifted away further then barked her orders, “Full Sails. Set the course to the battle waters. Hurry! We must beat the storm. It looks like they lost some barrels. Let us go see what they be dropping.”

  The crew efficiently carried out her orders and caught the wind just right. They closed the distance in short time and went to examine the area. The wind had picked up and the storm was rolling in. They arrived on the sight of the battle, but Captain Sky was careful enough to leave Captain K. T Brewer’s ship in eyesight. Five barrels were rolling in the waves but they were taking in water and sinking. A number of dead bodies were bobbing up and down in the ocean.

  “’Elp, ‘elp!” was heard over the growing storm.

  “Look! Man over board!” Patrick pointed at a man clinging to a sinking barrel.