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

by Cristi Taijeron

  X

  Awaking to the sound of someone gagging, I shot up in the tent and grabbed my knife. Stomping out of the flap, my eyes adjusted to the darkness just in time to see Boa’s men cutting the lines anchoring our raft to the shore. No! Those mutinous dogs were stealing our raft! But worse than that, Boa had his big arm wrapped around Doctor Hubert Humphry’s throat. “Stop!” I shouted at Boa and called for Barlow as I charged toward them.

  “Never!” Boa roared as he squeezed tighter. Just before I reached him, he snapped Hubert Humphry’s neck like a twig. Close enough to hear Hubert’s bones crack and watching his body fall limply to the sand, I felt a frightful mix of fear and rage surge through my being. The rumors were true. Boa was a murderer. He had just killed a good man and now that I was tackling him to the ground I thought of how quickly I could be next.

  The instant our bodies crashed against the damp sand along the shore, he threw me to the side. Flying off like a bug, I hit the ground, my bare back scraping against the damn pebbles and rocks that I hated so much. Springing to my feet with no mind for the blood that was surely drawn upon my hard landing, I saw that my men were fighting with Boa’s men in the shallow, moonlit bay. But with Boa charging at me, I had no time to help them.

  Just as I cocked back to take a swing at Boa, a shot rang out in the hot night air. A gunshot. None of us had heard such a sound in so long, the loud, echoing ring stopped us all in our tracks. The sound of a body splashing into the bay filled the silence. It was Walsh. He had been shot.

  Looking toward the source of the noise, we saw Captain Burton exiting the tent with a smoking pistol in his one hand.

  “That’s enough!” Miraculously, he pinched the gun between his legs and loaded another shot with his one arm as he shouted, “This here fight is over and you goddamn mutineers will head back to your side of the island or die.”

  All of Boa’s men looked to him. In the moonlight I thought I could see their desire to retreat, but there was another layer to their gaze that was crazed. The night was hot, bugs were flying around, and the sound of the waves lapping at the shore were a dark and taunting reminder of the many days it had trapped us on this miserable island. Insanity had struck the earth and I was but one of its victims.

  Feeling my mind fading into a dangerous haze, I struggled to reel it in. I had to stay focused, focused on not only my sanity, but also on the placement of Boa’s hands. He was fidgeting and had begun to pace. It wasn’t like him to look so out of control, but death was upon us all, and the only salvation was one I had offered and planned for. One he had planned to rob from me and my hard working men in the middle of the night like a goddamn coward.

  Though the captain was the one with the gun, I stomped in Boa’s direction. “What’s it going to be, Boa? Are you going to retreat, or die?”

  He lifted his fists, one of which gripped a knife. “It’s been a long time coming, boy. Since the day you first stepped on the ship in your regal coat, I knew you were going to be trouble. But the war ends here. Let’s see what happens with no authority to break it up and save your arse.”

  No longer able to control the madness which had been building in my mind, the starved and savage beast I had been keeping at bay broke loose and roared as I drew my own knife. Taking a wide step, I began circling with him. His men and mine were all growling at each other, once again ready to pounce on command. I could hear the captain yelling. Figuring he was threatening to shoot, I shouted, “No gunfire. This fight is mine!” Heart pounding hard in my chest, I swung my knife in the air. “Come on, Boa Constrictor. You want my raft? You have to fight me for it. Man to man, one on one, let’s settle this score.”

  “One on one, to the death,” he hissed as he squeezed tighter to the hilt of his knife and lunged at me. As his massive body crashed into mine, I felt his blade slice through my upper arm. The pain was horrific, like nothing I had ever felt. But rather than stopping me, the pain somehow fueled my will to fight. As he continued to force me backwards, I reached around him and shoved my knife into his back. The blade ripped through thick layers of muscle. I tore it to the side. He growled like an injured bear and stabbed me again. This time, the blade dived into my side. He twisted the steel, ripping and tearing my muscles apart. The pain caused me to scream out and I dropped to my knees. But I couldn’t stop.

  While I was low, I grabbed his legs and forced him to the ground. We fell over into the water. The salt burned my newfound wounds in a way that made the stab itself seem painless. Fist to fist, and blade to blade, covered in blood and burning from injuries as well as from the salt water filling them, we rolled around in the water and over the jagged rocks like savage fools until we both lost our knives.

  The deep wet sand made it hard to keep our footing, and with my eyes burning from the salt water it was hard to see where I was swinging my fists, but I never let up. In and out of the water, up and down from our knees to our feet, I felt his knuckles against my face just as many times as I plowed mine into his. The odds were square, our fight was even, but with the next blow he delivered to my face, he grabbed my hair. Growling, he tugged downward with all his might. I continued to punch his gut and his side as I fell low, but his abdomen was like a rock hard shield. Unfazed by my blows to his torso, he dunked me under water.

  Hearing bubbles and seeing nothing but darkness, I struggled to hold my breath as he shoved my face deep and hard into the sand. From here there was no way to fightback, but I had to, somehow…

  Before I found a way out, he wrapped his hard hand in my hair and roughly yanked me to my feet. As I gasped and gagged for air, tasting salt and blood, his boa constrictor size arm slithered its way around my neck.

  Lifting me from off the ground, he squeezed tighter and tighter till I could no longer breathe. The sight of the men standing still on the shore began to fade in the light encroaching upon my vision. But I couldn’t let it. No, he could not win this fight. Feeling one of those stupid rocks beneath my feet, I planted my bare foot on the porous surface. Establishing a hold on solid ground, I pushed off and into his body. Using the force he was pulling on me with, I leaned into him and shoved him backwards. His grip loosened as our speed increased. Every bit of air I inhaled powered my strength and soon enough, I had him stumbling. I pushed and pushed until he fell down.

  Landing hard on top of him, hearing him scream out as my weight crushed his ribs, I flipped over, shoved my knee into his chest and quickly grabbed a nearby rock. Raising my hand high as he wailed beneath me, I used all the might in my being to slam his face with the unforgiving piece of stone. Blood spewed out of his mouth as his head whipped to the side. He tried to grab my arm but I shoved my knee onto his upper arm to hold him back and hit his face again. This time his skin tore open. He let out a horrific groan and continued to fight me. I hit him again. Then again, Blood was splattering; he was yelling and trying to hold me off. He was still alive and he couldn’t be. I could never let him rise.

  Again and again, I hammered the rock against his head. With the vibration from the friction running along my arm, overtaking every nerve in my body, I beat and beat on him until the skin tore loose, exposing the bones that were breaking to pieces under my force. Blinded by my rage, all sights and sounds escaped me as I continued to beat on the mush that had now begun to excrete from within his crushed skull.

  By now, the sun was on the rise. As the light of day illuminated the horrific scene, I saw that the dreadful Boa Constrictor was no longer a threat to my existence. With no life left to abolish, I reined in the ferocity raging within me and looked down at the pile of meat, blood, and bone that once resided within the skull of the man who had tried to kill me. The man who tried to rob me, the pirate who banded a group of mutineers against us and thought they would take all we had worked for and leave us here to die.

  The mutineers…

  With the heat of their leader’s blood coating my hand, making the ocean water seem icy cold in contrast, I stood up and faced the men who were all st
aring at me in fearful silence.

  Breathing up a gale, with my heart still beating a million knots per hour, I held tight to my murderous rock and tromped toward the life threatening thieves with a slow and determined stride. Though I struggled to keep my balance in the wet sand, I never once let my gaze retract from their position as I growled through clenched teeth, “You see what happens when you cross me? All I wanted was to survive and I have. By God, I have and I will, but you—”

  “We won’t cross you,” Rupert wailed, shaking his hands nervously.

  “We’ll do whatever you say,” Walsh whimpered while holding his hand over the bleeding gunshot wound that was certain to kill him.

  Next to him, Tennison stood there with his head down, not saying a word. Smedley didn’t speak, either, but his face was hard with a hateful scowl. My desire to rip it off of his face was interrupted by Rupert’s girlish cry, “We didn’t want to do it but Boa forced us into it. He was going to kill us if we didn’t.”

  Stepping closer, I thought about how I could now kill them for their treasonous and cowardly ways but the sound of the captain’s voice interrupted my stride.

  “Stand down, Bentley,” he shouted from where he now sat, leaning against a rock shivering and shaking.

  Realizing what state he was in, and respecting the stand he made, I instantly stood down.

  Backing away from the treasonous rats, I barked, “What are we going to do with them?”

  “Hunching over, and breathing hard, Captain Burton heaved, “Tie them up.”

  “All right.” I agreed. “Get the rope, Barlow. Peckadennel, you hold them still till he comes back. And as for you,” I once again lifted my bloodstained rock at the mutineers. “Ye be warned, if I hear but one word of dissension whispered among you I will chop you into little pieces, drink your blood like water, and eat your flesh like beef until I’ve had my fill.”

  They all nodded to agree.

  Barlow quickly returned with the rope. As he tied them the captain said, “Leave those cowardly pirates there, for now. We’ll deal with them after we bury the dead.”

  The dead. Bury the dead. Again. Another good man died in vain and I had once again taken a life. But this time it felt different. I was different and would be forevermore. Looking out to the bay and watching the tide pull Boa’s dead body into the sea, I thought back on all the grief he had caused me. He chose this fate, and as far as I was concerned, his body could rot in the sun beating down on the shore where he had planned to leave us.

  With that thought, I stepped out into the water and grabbed his arm. Tugging on his dead weight, I dragged his body and the pieces of his battered skull that followed onto the shore. Dropping him on the sunlit sand, next to where Walsh now lie dead, I wiped sweat from my face—only to find that it was blood—and said to the men, “I won’t bury Boa. He can stay where he lie. As for Walsh, I’ll dig a hole for him if anyone is interested in dropping him in there, but I’m not. And the doctor, we’ll bury him right beside Clarence and I will make his cross.”

  As I worked, I realized just how much pain I was in. I had been stabbed a few times, in my sides and on my arms. I was covered in blood and aching like I never had before and I was beginning to feel weak. The sun was already absurdly hot. I hadn’t had a drink of water since sometime late last night, and the limes I ate were long gone from my belly.

  The misery taunting my body reminded me just how alive I was, but the flicker of life remaining within me was something subhuman, primitive and raw. Feeling far more animal than man, I boarded the raft alongside my men and began rowing across the sunlit sea.

  Part IV

  Distant & Uncertain Isle

  Hispaniola

  Summer of 1641

  Chapter 14

  Volitile Welcoming

  July 6th, 1646

  We escaped the island. Leaving behind the buried crates and dead men—which are all accounted for in this here logbook—we are now sitting atop the uneven planks of our leaky raft at sundown. I hoped we would reach the island before darkness devoured our visual of the destination, but after burying the doctor, tending to our many wounds, and dealing with the mutineers, we ended up leaving the shore of Boa Constrictor’s island much later than planned. This delay not only lost us precious hours of daylight, but led us to begin our journey in the heat of the day. The air was hot, and with few clouds overhead, the sun beat down on our hides all day long. Luckily, the sea has stayed calm, but with the raft so heavy laden with men and our one barrel of water—which is already half empty—the thing has been riding low, and occasionally dipping completely under the surface of the sea. We are wet, cramped together, still hungry and tired, but there is hope on the horizon, for some of us.

  As for the treasonous mutineers, after they tried to steal our raft in the night, we debated upon killing them on the spot, or leaving them to die the death they had wished upon us, but Captain Burton, being the good, even tempered man he is, insisted upon keeping them alive. Though he spared them their lives, he has not granted them mercy. They are being held as prisoners and have been forced to row the raft as punishment for their crimes. This way, they will not remain on the island to sabotage the cargo and they will eventually have to answer to the law for their dastardly act of attempted piracy.

  Though the row has been slow, wet, and miserable, we made it through the day and are now swapping shifts at the four oars with plans to continue throughout the night. With but a faint hint of sunlight remaining in the sky—so little that I can barely see this page—I’ve noticed small lights flickering on the shore of that distant and uncertain isle. Using the light as our guide, we shall row until we reach the coast, and can only hope that the people stoking those faraway flames will be hospitable.

  Finished with my entry, I closed the book, sealed the inkwell, and looked around at the men on the raft. Burton, whose wound tore open when he shot at the mutineers, was sleeping soundly in a puddle under the shade cover Barlow made for him. Peckadennel were both lying down to catch some rest, while Barlow was just rising from his nap to relieve me from my watch over the prisoners. It had been a long day, and I wanted so badly to rest as well, but my mind was too unnerved to settle.

  Looking as miserable as I felt, Barlow took the oar I had set aside when I stopped to write. Relieved of my duties, sore and exhausted, I stretched out my arms and then attempted to lie down. The floor was wet, as was I. I was wearing only my breeches in hopes to allow most of my sunburnt and peeling skin to dry, but out here on the sea the misty breeze was giving my bare body the chills. Being that my coat and waistcoat were stuffed inside my sea bag—soaking wet like everything else—there was no escaping the misery.

  Uncomfortable as could be, I lay there in silence and tried to imagine myself standing alongside that fire we were rowing toward. In the vision, I saw the flickering flames and I felt the heat radiating through my cold skin, slowly warming me from the outside in. Remembering what it was like to be warm and dry, my mind wandered into memories of home…

  Sitting in front of the fireplace alongside my sister, stoking the fire that lit our home and warmed our bones, I started telling her about my adventures as a sailor. Her light green eyes widened in wonder as she asked me about the ship and the sea. While answering her questions, I realized just how much I had accomplished and began feeling proud of the great strides I had made.

  Enjoying this time with my sister, I threw another log on the fire and began another tale. As the piece of wood settled on the pile, I heard a tapping at the front door. The tap turned into a thump. Something about the sound chilled me to the bone. No longer soothed by the heat of the fire, I looked upon the flames, only to see that the fireplace was dark. The ominous thumping continued, stabbing deep into my soul with each blow. Standing up, I prepared to fight whatever force was beckoning from outside my home.

  Before I could grab a weapon, the door flew open. A wall of water came rushing in. Knowing I was incapable of defending us against such a bea
st, I surrendered by taking Lace in my arms. Holding her tight, I told her everything was going to be all right, but I knew it wasn’t. With wide eyes, I stared at the enormous and unstoppable wave. Just as it hit us, I woke up.

  Breathing heavily, I looked up at the dark night sky. I wasn’t at home. I was at sea, hugging my wet sailcloth bag on a goddamn raft that was bobbing and creaking and hardly moving at all. And I wasn’t with my sister. She was dead and gone. Rather, I was surrounded by stinky seamen, three of which couldn’t be trusted for a second. Things couldn’t have been much worse.

  Lying there in a salty puddle, trying to calm my mind and get back to sleep, I found myself pondering the dangers of my surroundings. The water beneath us was black and foreboding, leaving my mind to wonder about the dreadful sea creatures that lurked within her clutches. The fire burning on the distant island set my imagination ablaze with visuals of cannibals and savages and the sort of humans that made sea beasts sound friendly. But at this point, I’d fight them all. Man or beast, anything that stood in my way of survival would end up dead and in my starved belly.

  Hearing Barlow barking at the prisoners to make haste, I snapped out of my savage trance. The sight of them putting so little effort into their job, made me want to attack them. Tennison, who had not said a word since I’d killed his leader, was rowing without complaint. And Smedley, the meanest and by far the most ungrateful of the prisoners, was doing a shitten job simply because he was a shithead. Slowly and carelessly, he skimmed the surface of the sea with his oar. In the moonlight I could clearly see the hateful scowl that rested steadily upon his pale white face. Delirious as I had become, he started to look something like a ghoul, an angry ghost who would hiss and bite and maybe even kill any living man who dared to draw near.