While shoving Rupert along, Skinner barked, “Since Renard is too busy crying, I’ll take the lead. And if this load is no good, we’ll burry you alive in the empty pits.”
Smedley sneered and snarled under his breath until they reached the location where I had buried my friends. Rupert, as dumb as he was, was smart enough to stop in his tracks when he reached the rocks I had placed as tombstones. “We shouldn’t be here,” he stuttered.
“We shouldn’t,” Smedley agreed, halting his pace, as well.
Setting sight on the gravestones, a few of the others seemed to agree with the mutineers, but Skinner and his followers tromped ahead. Skinner stormed toward the circle of rocks I surrounded the graves with. “What a bunch of milk-livered nut-hooks, you are. These here are nothing but holes where dead bodies lie.” He kicked the rock marking Clarence’s resting place, and then bent down and rubbed his arse all over Doctor Hubert Humphrey’s gravestone. Worse yet, his matelot, Round Pete, whipped out his dick and proceeded to piss on the rocks and crosses.
The others laughed and laughed at Skinner and Round Pete as they made a mockery of my friend’s final resting places. There was no denying the way this disturbing act of disrespect caused my blood to boil. Normally, I would have picked a fight over the matter, but in this case, I sat back and let them shame themselves. A little to the right, I thought, as Skinner stomped around, trying to convince his men to join him. A few of them did. One more step…
Skinner set the trap. Foot on the false ground, he fell haphazardly into the pit. The two men standing beside him toppled downwards right after. The three victims to our ingenuity let out startled yelps as they plummeted to the bottom of the hole I dug, but the spears Barlow placed at the bottom silenced two of them for good. The third man’s voice, one I did not recognize, wailed out from the hole. It sounded like he had been stabbed and was unable to move. The tone of his cries mocked the ghost stories Smedley had been telling.
The men who I knew to be brave enough to slaughter wild boars without fear, and who had proven themselves strong enough to defeat a portion of the Spanish militia, were now hugging each other and screeching in fear.
Humored by the scene, I resisted a laugh and rather turned to tell my men it was time to make our move. But...another sound caught my attention. There were voices coming from the opposite end of the beach. As the wailing of the injured man died down, I realized the approaching men were speaking Spanish. A few of the traitors knew the enemies language, but not that well. The accents were authentic and the footsteps sounded to be marching.
Burton and I both lifted our guns, signaling for our men to have them at the ready. In the blazing torchlight, we watched a large group of Spaniards surround the buccaneers, guns aimed.
“Declare su negocio, piratas!” said the man who appeared to be their captain.
The traitors did not respond and their hesitation caused the Spaniards to step forward. Taino cupped his ear as to better hear and translate the words the Spanish Captain was speaking. As he barked at the men we had planned to attack ourselves, Taino used the volume to shield his whisper to me. “They are from the patrol ship you read about in Isabella’s logbook, Magdalena. She was patrolling these waters and spotted Escudo Dorado’s sails hours ago. They used the firelight on the shore to lead them through the dark of night and are now wondering where their comrades are.”
“Sounds right.” Ziare nodded.
“Maybe they will clean this mess for us.” Taino shrugged.
“Over my dead body,” Burton growled. “The cargo hole is opened, now, and they will know the trap was set to protect something. I’ll kill them just as fast as I would have them traitors if they go after my goods.”
“Well, shit,” Paul Largo huffed.
Rubbing his face, Matthew Largo asked, “What the hell do we do, now?”
I took a deep breath. “Well, being how neither our group nor theirs can fight those kinds of numbers alone, I say we set aside our differences and work with the traitors to overcome our common enemy.”
Burton concurred, “Aye. We can snipe the Spaniards from here to give the buccaneers an advantage. We’ll then work together to ward them off, and then we’ll handle the traitors once the smoke clears.”
Our closest and loyalist men quickly agreed with our strategy, but the others didn’t look the least bit interested in such a thing.
Zean shook his head. “I don’t like it. We didn’t come here to fight with the Spanish.”
Seedy agreed, “And we aren’t getting paid enough to do so, either.”
The doubtful group began grumbling about how we should retreat and save our own arses while we still had time to do so.
“No.” I pounded my fist down on the sand.
They all quit their whispered bitching and stared at me.
My eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness that I could see their blank expressions. It may have been difficult gaining the attention of the drunkards in town, but having fifteen pairs of somewhat sober eyes boring in on me and me alone was far more unsettling. Not only did I have to talk them into seeing things the way I did, but I had to convince them why it would be worth risking their lives to follow through with my plans.
Having no time to organize my thoughts into a persuasive speech, I just started talking, “This is about more than Burton’s cargo, and has nothing to do with my personal reputation. This has hereby become a situation that affects us all, no matter what we each have to gain from it.”
“How so?” Zean asked, while peering down on the scene below.
Feeling rushed by the tension rising between the traitors and the Spaniards, I sped through my explanation, “Winning yesterday’s battle and seizing those Spanish ships were deeds we will eventually have to answer to, and it seems they intend to make that group of buccaneers pay tonight. You may not think that to be your problem, but allowing them to defeat those men would give them an upper-hand that I am not willing to afford them. Each buccaneer they kill offers a breech in our line of defense, making it easier for us to be next. In fact, they could very well have seen Isabella, just like they saw Escudo, and could have dispatched men to approach her, already. Not to mention that there are surely others searching the surrounding area.
But no matter what they have planned tonight, it will only be a matter of time until we are forced to face them. And when we do, I want you to know what they have planned for you. Within the pages of Captain Don Juarez y Moreno’s locked logbook, it was written that they intended to make galley slaves of us buccaneers. Slaves! They wanted us to row their ships, to use our sweat and blood to fuel their mission to destroy other free men, like us.
Now, I don’t know all of your life stories, and very few of you know mine, but I’ll tell you right now that I’ve spent a great deal of my life struggling to make a place of peace for myself, only to have some higher authority yank it all away from me. And I am tired of it. I’m done waiting around to see how things will turn out and I refuse to spend another day simply hoping for the best. But tonight, we don’t have to wait and we can do more than just hope. It is our turn to yank it all away from them.
We have the advantage of stealth and knowledge and if we prevent that ship from leaving this shore, we will bide ourselves weeks, if not months, of time before word gets back to Spain about our seizing of their ships. And beyond just preventing and prolonging unpleasant fates, we could gain the opportunity to gather intelligence on their future operations, which could save more lives than just our own. Not to mention that we could probably come upon more money that could pay to make this worthwhile.” I nudged Seedy with my elbow.
“We have no king to force us into the battlefield, but on my own accord I am committed to defending my freedom at all costs and I will fight to the death to keep what is rightfully mine. So, at this time I ask you, as my fellow buccaneers, as hunters, and above all else, as free men, do you have the courage to stand beside me and transcend from prey to predator?”
Ch
apter 22
Man of My Word
It felt as if the world stood still as my men mumbled among themselves about what I’d said. But the sight of Spaniards forcing the traitors into a corner, assured me that time was moving quickly and there was very little of it to spare. Knowing we had to act handsomely, I locked eyes with Burton to see what he thought. A surly grin crossed his bearded face as he lifted his readied long musket. Aiming at the Spanish captain, he pulled the trigger.
Gunfire erupted in the night. His musket ball landed hard in the captain’s neck. At the sight of their leader falling dead, the Spanish soldiers were sent into a fitful fury.
As they drew their swords and muskets, looking around for who may have fired the gun, Just Plain Jack raised his musket. The man who hardly spoke at all let out an enthusiastic hoot, “Down with the Dons!”
His gunshot was followed by Ziare’s, then Barlow’s, and then so many more that I could no longer tell whose shot was whose. All I knew for certain was that no one was running for safety. Every single one of my men agreed to fight!
Forming our well-practiced, two-man musket crews, we continued our assault on the unsuspecting soldiers.
As I had hoped, the traitors took advantage of our sneak attack, and began a fight of their own. Fists and clubs swinging, swords clanking, and guns firing, the once quiet and eerie setting became a battleground where I could not tell who would take the lead. There were more Spaniards than buccaneers below, but with our help, they seemed to be over powering them.
Just as I began to think we were gaining the upper hand, more Spaniards rushed into the canopy. Hearing my men huff with worry, I said, “This is good. We’re drawing them in from the ship. It will be easier to take in the end.”
“Way to think ahead, Bentley.” Burton accepted the gun Barlow loaded for him.
Handing Ziare his next gun, I said to the captain, “We should send a few men out on the canoe to sack Magdalena. They can distract her, or take her, or whatever needs to be done. I can lead them.”
Coughing on black powder smoke, Burton said, “I like that idea, but I need you here.”
I looked at Ziare. Observing the way he squinted as he aimed and pulled the trigger, right on time to send the bullet through one Spaniard’s arm and into the chest of another, I patted his back. “Ziare can do it. He can row that canoe better than anyone and could guide the men through a swift boarding, like we did yesterday.”
Ziare lowered his smoking musket and reached for the next. “It would be my honor, Quartermaster.”
In agreement, we quickly elected the few men best fit for the chore. Taino and Joshua were the most trustworthy men we could risk to part with at this moment, and the Largo brothers were the best sailors in our group, in case the stolen ship would need to make sail. With a proud grin and a stout salute, Ziare promised to steer us right.
Just as they set out, the Spaniards spotted our stronghold. Watching as they sent a group in our direction, Burton shouted, “They are planning to flank us. Fan out!”
Our men dispersed, guarding all ends of our natural rock fortress, and making sure none of them caught wind of our canoe crew. Since my musket partner was gone, I ended up shooting arrows alongside Friar Annie. Apparently, that wench was skilled with a bow and arrow. She shot two for each one of my arrows, and nearly every one of her targets were hit.
Having higher ground, our group was able to keep the Spaniards at bay. One by one, their bodies fell between the rocks leading up to our base. This didn’t stop them. The next group charged up the pass, stepping on the bodies of their dead and dying brothers.
“Add them to the pile!” Burton roared, then fired his next shot.
He was hit in his good arm before he could take shelter. As he grasped the wound, Friar Annie pulled back her bow and squawked, “You’ll pay for injuring that nice old man!” As her target fell dead, she said to Burton, “I got him for you, captain.”
“Thank you,” Burton huffed and accepted the next gun Barlow readied for him. The old man was relentless and the wench was full of surprises.
While firing my last arrow, I spotted a group of soldiers running away from the fight and towards the path that would lead them to the area behind us. Friar Annie grabbed my arm. “You and me, let’s stop them.”
It was against everything in my nature to head into battle alongside a woman, but we were the only ones without musket teams. Plus, the sight of her shoving a rock into her satchel and swinging it around like a mace as she shouted, “Their skulls and their ships are ours!” assured me that she was no average woman.
I grabbed my loaded long musket. With my gun, her bow, and an array of bladed weapons between us, Friar Annie and I trudged through the shrubs. Reaching the open sandy pit where I knew we would be able to halt their approach, we took shelter behind a boulder. Attempting to tame our deep and wild breaths, we listened carefully as the footfalls came closer.
As they drew near, Friar Annie peered around the boulder. “There are four of them. Almost in range.” She pulled an arrow from her quiver and readied her bow.
Just as I propped up beside her, musket at the ready, a gunshot rang out from the left. Uncertain as to who was lurking in the distant shadows of the interior, we both fired at the men we could see. My bullet was a miss, but Friar Annie’s arrow pierced one man’s torso. Another gunshot from the left was fired.
As I shoved a musket ball down the barrel, Annie released another arrow and said, “The other gunman is shooting on our side. There is only one Spaniard left. Hurry.”
Pouring powder in the pan, I heard footsteps pounding hard against the earth from where the mysterious gunman had fired. A beastly growl roared and was followed by the grunt of a man being tackled to the ground. Looking up to see what was going on, I was surprised to spot the white embroidery of a familiar coat standing out in the night. It was Renard. He was on top of the Spanish soldier, stabbing him to death.
At that moment, a few more Spaniards rushed into the clearing. Friar Annie and I did the same to them.
No words were spoken, but Renard nodded to accept my presence as I brandished my sword beside him. Regardless of what was between us, it was clear that we both understood what needed to be done. We would fight the enemy side by side, with Friar Annie and the rock mace she was wielding.
Three Spaniards were facing us and fired their guns all at once. One of the bullets flew between Friar Annie and me, skimming my side. Another landed hard in Renard’s gut, but neither of us slowed our pace.
The Spaniards drew their swords, as well. We continued our stride until our blades crashed against theirs. At this point, chopping through flesh was no different than chopping firewood. In no time at all, Renard and I finished off our opponents. Watching my victim fall, I heard a ravenous scream rip through the night. Looking toward the sound, I saw Friar Annie whacking her adversary across the face with her rock mace. As his head whipped to the side, she reared back to gather more speed. Before he could recover from the blow, she hit him again, and again. The final crack smashed his face wide open.
The moment his lifeless body hit the ground, she leapt on top of him and stabbed into the mushy side of his cracked skull.
As she sawed through meat and bones, Renard hunched over, grasping his wound, and chuckled, “Is that the fat whore?”
Laughing a bit to myself, I said, “Well, it’s no man of the Lord.”
Standing up with part of the man’s skull in her hand, she sneered, “I’m no whore. I am Billy Barlow’s lady and tonight we will drink from the skulls of our enemies!”
Spitting up blood, Renard let out a faint and delirious chortle. “Oh my! I would be laughing much harder had I not been shot in the gut.”
He then fell over. Friar Annie and I both rushed to his assistance. While helping him to his feet, I realized that the gunfire from the graveyard had ceased. In between shallow breaths, I heaved, “To the graves.”
We rushed as fast as we could with the limping and winded
Renard between us.
Nearing the canopy, where the torches still burned brightly, I saw that my crew had stormed the area, and had combined forces with the traitors to back the persistent Spaniards into a corner.
Coming into the light ourselves, I watched Seedy and Just Plain Jack throw an especially defiant Spaniard into the pig pit. Now that we were close enough, I heard others cursing us from the hole they were trapped in.
At this point, the remaining few finally surrendered. As Barlow and Burton stripped the cooperating Dons of their weapons and tied their hands, Burton welcomed us back with a nod of approval. “You dug us quite the prison cell, Bentley.”
Helping Renard take a seat beside his other injured men, I thanked Burton for the compliment, and then began to wonder if the traitors should be thrown in the prison pit, as well.
Though upset by the amount of blood my crew had shed because of the traitors ill-deed, I was proud of the way we set our differences aside and conquered our common enemy as brothers. While searching the crowd of traitors to see who lived, I felt a brief moment of compassion for the men who, as Gean had said, were foolish enough to follow my enemies.
Catching my gaze, and eyeing the bloodstains coating my bare chest and arms, the lot of them began whining to excuse their faults in the matter.
“Please don’t kill us,” Round Pete pleaded.
His friend chimed in, “We didn’t mean you no harm. Smedley told us that you—”
“Where is he?” I growled, holding tight to my bloodstained sword. The mere sound of his name assured me of just how I felt about those damn mutineers.
Two of the traitors pointed toward the beach.
“He left us here to face the doom he’s due!” Round Pete cried.
As the group began groaning about how Smedley and Rupert fooled and betrayed them, I bolted for the beach. Barlow followed behind me.
Running across the sand and toward the water, I spotted them sneaking toward one of the Spanish longboats.
King of My Nightmare (King of My Nightmare, Book 1): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 35