King of My Nightmare (King of My Nightmare, Book 1): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  Rupert spat, “Eh, we don’t care if his treasonous arse lives or dies.”

  Feeling Barlow tense up at my side, I held my hand out to signal he should stay still, and spoke directly to the doctor. “Listen here, willingly allowing a man to die, is no different than killing him. And I can’t allow that.”

  He winced in confusion. I hoped that the reality would settle in with him, but his friends began encouraging him to stay on his stupid, selfish course. Their disrespectful shouts assured me that Billy Barlow was right…someone had to take charge.

  Holding tight to my oar with one hand, and slowly patting it into the palm of my other, I stared at the doctor and said, “This matter is no longer up for discussion, Humphry. You’re going to get up and go do what’s right.”

  Smedley spoke up over the hissing and snarling of the rest of the group, “Ah, stick that oar up your arse, Bentley.”

  I cocked back my oar and slapped Smedley across the face with the paddle.

  As his head flew to the side, the others inhaled with shock. I reared back again, this time aiming my threatened swing in the doctor’s direction. “Either you’re going to get up and do what’s right, or I am going to whack you with this oar until the sense rattles loose in your brains.”

  He opened his mouth slowly. I was ready to hit him if need be, but hoped to God I wouldn’t have to.

  To my relief, he said, “All right. I will go. But not at all because I like you, or Burton. It’s because it is the right thing to do.”

  Slowly slipping out from under Clarence’s head, he leaned forward and kissed the shirt covering his face. “I didn’t want to go, but he forced me.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” I said as he rose, then looked at the group. “I suggest the lot of you begin searching for water. None of us will live long enough to tell this godforsaken tale unless we find provisions.”

  While they wandered into the foliage, I led the doctor, Peck, and Barlow to the ship.

  Like Barlow had said, the tide could change in the blink of an eye, and it had already risen. Rushing through waist deep water was strenuous and terrifying, especially being how I could feel it tugging and pushing to and fro around my exhausted and dehydrated body. As worried as I was about getting washed out to sea, and experiencing another near drowning, the way Hubert Humphry was whining like a little girl inspired me to face the troublesome hike with courage. I did not want to sound anything like him, even if only in my mind.

  Reaching the gully near the hull, the bravery I mustered up in my heart seemed to sink in the depth the lagoon had gained with the rising tide. It was now up to Barlow’s neck as he crossed, so he started to swim. Amazed by the sight of his fat body skimming across the surface of the sea, I became more dedicated to my desire to learn. But for now, I would have to wade across on my lubber feet, and I was dreading it.

  “What are you cowards waiting for?” Barlow huffed as he grabbed onto the timbers, kicking his hairy white feet like mermaid fins. “A man’s life is a stake here.”

  He was right. This wasn’t about me or my fears. It was about getting the captain the care he needed.

  As I took my first step in, Humphry screeched, “I can’t swim. That water is too deep. I am not going.”

  Keeping myself calm, I tried to inspire the doctor. “I can’t swim either, and I have no interest in crossing, but we’ve got to do it. How about we go together?”

  He glanced between my oar and the ship, as if he were debating between taking a beating from me or the sea. He chose the sea.

  Together, we waded across. It was dreadfully deep and though my mouth was a good foot above the waterline, I held my breath, anyhow. Feeling suffocated, I reached the ship and let out a wild exhale as if I had been dunked under again.

  Helping Peck and Humphry climb into the cracked hull, I realized that this time, the ship was teetering much more. In fact, it was damn near floating again. The ocean was a dreadful thing and at this point I hated it entirely.

  Hurrying along the rafters, we reached the gangway outside of the captain’s cabin just in time for the ship to let out a devastating groan. The threatening sound was accompanied by the movement of the ship. Dropping to the floor, we all held tight as she slowly tipped further to the starboard side. Once she seemed to stabilize—at a position much closer to level ground—a blood curdling scream shot out from the captain’s cabin. That movement must have laid more pressure on Burton where he laid trapped.

  Leaping to my feet, I took a few quick and untrusting steps across the floorboards that were almost horizontal again, and then bolted into the captain’s cabin.

  Upon our entrance, we saw Dennel arched over the captain’s body, straining to hold up the bulkheads that had indeed begun to crush him more. Swift as the wind, Peck ran over to help his mate carry the load. As the two of them held the collapsing timbers at bay, I noticed how white and sweaty Burton was. He was no longer screaming, but breathing up a gale, and the lack of color on his face assured me that we had very little time.

  “We need to hurry,” Doctor Humphry shouted, “The only way we’ll get him out of there safe is to chop that arm off.” At that moment, the fat and lethargic doctor began frantically searching the room for supplies. “We need a blade, fire, and something to make a tourniquet out of. Oh, and something for him to bite on.”

  Fire? On a wrecked ship near an island that is soaked from the rain? I grabbed Burton’s boarding axe which had somehow remained fastened to the bulkheads. As I started chopping whatever dry timbers and furniture I could find, the captain groaned, “In my sea chest…there are guns. Black powder. Flint.”

  Barlow ran toward the sea chest that was lying upside down under the shattered stern windows. He flipped the heavy thing over like it was weightless, and began shuffling through the absurd amount of guns and other items in search of the needed supplies. While the doctor began strapping the tourniquet around Burton’s arm, Peck and Dennel took turns holding up the bulkheads and gathering everything else we needed.

  Burton wailed in pain as the doctor moved him around, but the doctor calmly and kindly assured him it was for the best.

  Using the flint and powder found in the captain’s sea chest, we successfully ignited the wood I had chopped and got a fire burning steadily in the cast iron pot we had balanced in a safe, open location outside of the door. Then, as per the doctor’s orders, we set a ball of round shot in the fire so he could use the hot iron to cauterize the arm upon completion of the upcoming amputation.

  Once everything was in place, I offered to take my turn at the bulkhead, and swiftly moved in to hold off the weight while Peck took his place bracing Burton’s legs alongside Dennel. With my feet braced to the deck, the weight of the wall was absurdly heavy against my back, clarifying why Peck and Dennel’s legs had been shaking during the chore. But this was it. What little might I had in my battered body went into full effect as I held that wall off the man who would soon be having a limb chopped off with a goddamn axe.

  Holding tight to the axe, Humphry, who was sweating up a storm, wiped his pale forehead and stuttered, “Hold him steady.”

  Legs already beginning to tremble beneath me, I let them know I was ready. Peckadennel called out ready from the legs, and Barlow answered stout at the free arm. Burton who was barely alive at all, closed his glassy eyes and weakly bit down on the leather strap.

  Taking note of how much the doctor was sweating and shaking, I began to doubt his skill. And worse than that, I began to wonder just how much he hated the captain. One wrong move could lop off Burton’s head.

  Time seemed to stand still as Humphry cocked back the axe. The suspense between the dreadful salvation and possible murder weighed heavy on my mind, deepening the deadly tension of the moment. Steadfast in our positions, we all held our breath as we awaited the next move.

  Staring at the discolored flesh pinched tight around the tourniquet, the doctor bit on his thin and trembling lips. A crazed expression took hold of his face as his
body flung into motion.

  The axe slowly swung through the air. The blade hit the target. It roughly and agonizingly sliced through the meat, but stopped solid on the broken bone. Burton screamed in pain, the worst I’d ever heard. Hubert began wailing in regretful terror, while Peckadennel whimpered and whined, and Barlow was yelling so many curse words that I couldn’t tell what anyone was saying. All I knew for certain was that this needed to end.

  Apparently, Barlow felt the same. Hopping to his feet, the master carpenter grabbed the axe and shoved the doctor over. As Hubert fell to the ground, Barlow cocked back the axe. Just like with a chunk of firewood, where aiming to miss the knots, he swung the axe around and laid it hard upon the crushed and smashed heap of flesh and broken bones. I felt the bones bust to bits beneath the blow. We all did. Everyone let out wild hoots of relief as Burton’s body broke free from the useless limb. The second the axe dug into the wooden floor, we yanked Burton away from the pile that had been threatening to crush the rest of him.

  “Get over here, Doctor!” I shouted over the screaming captain and yelling men.

  Scampering to his feet, the doctor ran for the fire, and with the axe he scooted the hot round shot into place. The instant the red hot ball of lead touched the captain’s skin, he passed out entirely. As Humphry rolled it over the severed flesh, he whimpered and gurgled on his snot and tears.

  “I thought you were a doctor?” Barlow yelled at him.

  “I am,” he wailed, “but I have never swung an axe in my life.”

  Barlow started grumbling about how he wasn’t surprised.

  Strangely, a deranged little laugh rose up in my throat. “That was quite apparent in your limp dick swing.”

  Barlow laughed, too. Peckadennel, who were still crying over the captain’s unconscious body, also chuckled a little, and the doctor even cracked a silly grin. There was nothing funny about any of this, but the stupid laughter seemed to pull us together and that was just what we needed.

  Clasping my trembling hands together, I said, “We need to get him to stable ground. With the angle this ship is laying at, it’ll take the lot of us to haul him to shore. We can deal with gathering supplies afterward.”

  Without questions, the men arose and helped the unconscious captain from the floor.

  Together, we hauled the load across the tilted deck, then down into the lagoon. The water level made it difficult to keep Burton’s head above water as we walked across the bay, but by God we made it.

  Reaching the tree line, we laid him down in the shade. It was then that my rush of energy faded and I began to feel how starved and exhausted I truly was. My stomach was aching and groaning with sounds akin the ship as she shifted over the reef, my head was pounding like the distant surf, and every muscle in my body was sore. Not to mention the emotional misery in my mind from the awful occurrences we’d endured.

  But how shitten I felt didn’t matter. There was still so much to do. We needed water, and shelter, and food.

  Spotting Boa’s followers heading in our direction, I swiftly headed over to greet them. “Did you find water?”

  “We did,” Tennison hooted. “Not much, but there’s a small creek running down the beach around the bend, there. We already made a filter and have it funneling into a barrel.”

  “Oh, thank God. And good job.” I let out a deep breath. “Let me know the moment that’s ready. In the meantime, we should gather what we can from the ship to make camp and figure out how the hell we are going to eat. Oh, and we need to bury the dead.” I nodded at Humphry to remind him that I had not forgotten about his friend.

  He looked away with a scowl. I guess he still hated me.

  Peck stepped up. “There’s some food left in the galley. Den and I can go get it.”

  Barlow added, “I’ll see if I can find any of my tools and see what pieces of the ship and sails I can gather to build shelter.”

  Tennison chimed in, “I’ll go with you, Barlow. If I can find more barrels, we can store more water.”

  The others volunteered to help where they could. Since no one else offered, I said, “I’ll dig the graves.”

  “I’ll gather the dead,” Doctor Hubert Humphry mumbled with his head down, and then wandered off to gather the bodies.

  Still tired, hungry, thirsty, and hot as hell, I used the oar I had been carrying all day to dig five shallow graves for the dead bodies the doctor was dragging over. While sweating, and panting, and swatting away bugs and flies, I wondered how many graves I would have to dig in my lifetime. Would it always be my job to be the undertaker of those who mattered to me? Would I forever have to look into the dead eyes of those I cared about as I covered their faces with dirt, and would it always be me who picked the rocks and sticks that would mark their final resting places?

  I hated this. I hated death. And at this point I even hated life. After covering Clarence’s smashed face and crushed skull with the moist sand from this unidentified island, I glanced around at all the men who were still breathing, and wondered why. Why did some of us get to live, while others had to die, some so young and all so brutally. But overall, I began to wonder who had truly come out on top, for the dead were resting soundly in the arms of the Lord while the rest of us were stuck here on this godforsaken island. And the Devil only knew what hell we’d have to endure to survive the unknown amount of days ahead of us.

  After finishing the undesirable job, exhausted and downtrodden, I called for the men who had returned with their bounty from the ship. Finding no one else willing, I prayed over the fallen souls. Feeling as shitty as I was, it was difficult to say a pleasant prayer, but the dead deserved that much, and the living seemed to be in better spirits afterward. Staying together near the gravesites, they consoled each other and shared encouraging words. Seeing the group who had been festering with dissension, come together during this time of need assured me that it had been worth the effort to offer this prayer service. But even mourning would have to wait. “Come on, men.” I waved them toward the shipwreck supplies. “Let’s use the pieces you gathered to make camp afore we end up dead and buried ourselves.”

  By the time the sun set, Barlow had a tent built and angled in a way that would block the wind and shelter us from any rain that might fall. Tennison had a barrel full of water, and was working on refilling the next, and next to the fire Rupert had started, I tallied the food Peck and Dennel had gathered from the ship.

  Eyeing the small amount of beans and dried meat, I said to the men, “There are ten of us here and we can’t forget that four of us are still missing. If they show up, we’ll need to feed them, too. But for now, I say we each have a slab of meat for dinner and we can cook the beans over night as to have something to eat in the morning.”

  “Does anyone know how to cook beans?” Walsh asked.

  No one answered, so I spoke up, “I do. Well, I can, but it won’t be good.”

  “We don’t need good, we need to survive.” Barlow rubbed his fat gut.

  With that, I filled the pot with water and propped it over the flames. Once the water began to boil, I moved the pot to a bed of hot coals and then sat down in the sand and ate my meat. It was so damn tasty I wanted to eat it all, and the rest of the bushel in a matter of seconds, but this was it. This one small shred of meat that was almost gone, was all my overexerted body would get until the dawn.

  Barlow plopped down beside me and handed me a damp sailcloth bag. “Your secret spot turned out to be a solid one.”

  It was my sea bag! Grabbing the bag, full of everything I owned, I opened it up and eyed the pieces over as if to see if it were real. Everything was accounted for, and the familiar items somehow assured me of just how much I had to live for. I may not have a family to return home to, but I had friends. Friends who helped me survive my losses back home and friends who were here, helping me now. Looking around at the battered and defeated men—who had all miraculously survived the goddamn shipwreck, and worked side by side to survive the first day thereafter—
I realized that things could be worse. This wasn’t a good thing by any means, but it was a good start. We had food, we had water, and we were sheltered from the warm wind and dry by the fire. Listening to everyone talking, and even laughing, I held tight to my soaking wet Bible, thanked the Lord for one more day, and finally fell asleep.

  Chapter 12

  Last Known Mark

  Awakening to the sound of twigs cracking somewhere in the brush, my eyes shot open. It was still dark out, and the men were all asleep around the fire, but something was headed our way and it was big. Before I had a chance to warn anyone or grab a weapon, the massive creature showed its face. Boa.

  Standing there with his shirt off—strapping chest scraped and scarred, and breeches torn and bloodstained—Boa looked around at us and let out a mocking chuckle, “So, I see you boys survived the day without me.”

  The way the fire illuminated his seemingly playful grin made him look sinister, and led me to think I should standup and possibly prepare to fight. Rather, I was distracted by the sight of Rupert leaping up and hugging Boa’s leg. “Boa! You’re alive.”

  “Of course I’m alive.” He shook Rupert off and then began kicking the sleeping men to wake them up. “As for you weak little tumble weeds…”

  One by one they awoke, grunting and grumbling as Boa insulted them. As he drew near me, I stood up and squinted at him, as to warn that he not dare kick me. He didn’t.

  Once everyone realized who had been bothering them, the ones who liked Boa hooted with joy and barraged him with a bevy of questions about his survival.