“Well, that’ll depends, Mr. Wresfin.”
Black-Hearted forced the rest of the prisoners to jump ship and swim for the diminutive island. It looked as though there might be food enough to survive, but for how long, no one knew.
“Gunner, bring me Captain Blair,” commanded Black-Hearted.
“You’ll live so long as you do what I say,” said Black-Hearted, directing his mandate toward Mr. Wresfin. “But if you give me any trouble you’ll share the same fate as your captain.”
Captain Blair was brought to the main deck, where he caught sight of Edward Teach. “You’re pressing them into service pretty young these days aren’t you? Getting a bit desperate, I take it.”
“That boy is braver than any one of your men.”
“If you kill me, you’ll be hunted down like the dirty dog you are and hanged for certain.”
“If?” he replied, with a light chuckle. “In a few moments it won’t matter at all. You’ll already be dead.” Black-Hearted then ordered Gunner to prepare Captain Blair.
Seeing the predicament Captain Blair was in, Mr. Wresfin began to breathe more heavily and big drops of sweat ran down the side of his face from his brow. “I’ll do whatever you ask, Mr. Hearted.”
“You’re a worthless fool, Wresfin!” shouted Captain Blair.
Gunner smacked Captain Blair across the cheek. “Today you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut - forever. I can promise you that.”
Black-Hearted warned Mr. Wresfin, who was now in tears, “You now serve ‘board this vessel, my new flagship. I’ll name her the Rogue. You’re going to turn my crew into fine English officers over the next few weeks. If not, well then, take a gander at this here keelhaul and place your own boots upon it.”
Black-Hearted gave the go-ahead to Gunner with a simple nod of his head. “Keelhaul’m.”
Now terrified, Captain Blair shouted in a dreadful panic, “Wait, no, stop! I have a wife and children. Please! I do surrender the ship to you after all.”
“Like I said before,” replied Black-Hearted, “dead men have no need to surrender” he then laughed aloud, continuing, “They’re already dead.”
Gunner took Captain Blair and shoved him face-first against the mainmast and ripped the back shirt the entire length. The others, by Gunner’s side, tied his wrists and ankles together. Gunner secured Captain Blair’s limbs to a long rope, drawn underneath the ship from portside to starboard.
As this traumatic scene unfolded before Mr. Wresfin, he asked in a panic, “What are your intentions for this poor soul? No man is diservin’ o’ this.”
“Stop your cryin’,” grumbled Gunner.
Gunner was about to toss Captain Blair over the portside gunwale, when Edward Teach stepped in. “I may be young, but please allow me.”
Black-Hearted gestured on behalf of Edward’s request, allowing him to perform the deed.
“You don’t have to do this,” pled Captain Blair. “You’re still so young and you don’t need such a sin upon your head.”
“Such a sin?” questioned Edward in retort. “Captain, I’m a pirate. Sinning is what we do best. Innocence isn’t my strong point. I lost my way long ago.”
Immediately, Edward, a sizeable lad, took him by the legs and picked him up off the floor and over his shoulders. He then raised him above his head and tossed him overboard. All of Captain Blair’s frantic yells and screams could be heard.
Ten men on the starboard side pulled on the other end of the rope, forcing Captain Blair underneath the ship while still in motion upon the water. Instantly, the temperature of the water took effect. Captain Blair’s body quickly tensed and his lungs contracted, making it harder to keep his breath. As Captain Blair descended deeper, the sharp barnacles slowly tore through his bare skin. As he scrambled for breath, he released the remaining air from his lungs with a muffled scream. Twisted and torn, his body could no longer handle the stress of the massive keel against his back, which gradually broke. Captain Blair gave up and passed out. Under the keel’s continuous pressure, he simply gave up the ghost. His body was then hoisted back up to the main deck.
At the sight of Captain Blair’s distorted and mangled bloody body, Mr. Wresfin confessed, “I’m going to be sick. Please, have pity. I beg you Sir, quarter. I beg quarter. I’ll do whatever you ask, I swear it. I do.”
Captain Blair was untied and checked for signs of life. Stephen and Eric threw his torn and broken body over the bow, weighted with a large ball and chain tied to his ankles.
Gunner took Mr. Wresfin, who was now shaking in his boots, and threw him in a cell below deck. “You’d better pray you can please the captain.” Slamming the cell door, Gunner locked it shut and held on to the key.
Following Captain Blair’s execution, Darby O’Dell and a few other crewmen happened upon Edward’s popper hat.
“Watch this, mates,” said Darby mischievously, as he picked the hat up and tossed a few smoking matches in. He quickly handed the hat to Edward before the smoke could billow out. Edward just casually threw it on.
As the smoke swelled under his hat, Edward began to smell something funny. Confused about how it seemed to be following him and the strange looks he was receiving from his shipmates, he finally noticed from his peripheral and shouted, “My head!”
Darby and the others vigorously laughed as Edward jotted about in hysterics. Darby’s patronizing antics triggered something deep within Edward’s being. Unbeknownst to him, the pure exhilaration he felt from their earlier skirmish with the English Pride had filled his blood with such a thirst for more that he exploded into the monster he was meant to be. The billowing smoke exaggerated his deep-set eyes and, combined with his overpowering size and newfound rage, made Darby and the others a bit nervous. Edward used this newly found adrenaline based power to put Darby in his place.
Taking Darby by the collar, Edward lifted him up off his feet, suffocating him with his powerful grip. Stephen jumped on his back, but Edward just reached behind and threw him overboard with a single motion. Black-Hearted stepped up, cocked his pistol and shoved it deep into the center of Edward’s forehead, causing it to bleed slightly.
“Drop him or I’ll split your skull in two,” demanded Black-Hearted, who was still bigger and broader than Edward. “I can use a man like you – better alive than dead. And dead is not somethin’ I hesitate about.”
Edward dropped Darby to the deck without a word more. Darby stood up gasping for air and with a notable scowl, just walked away.
All hands were aboard the Rogue, as Roger’s Jolly sat empty, just off the starboard side. Black-Hearted was in need of a captain for Roger’s Jolly and he went to his trusted crew for a vote. “Who do you elect as captain o’er Roger’s Jolly? What say you?”
“Gunner!” shouted an anonymous crewman.
“Aye, Gunner” voiced another.
No one contested Gunner’s name, as he was unanimously voted in as Captain of Roger’s Jolly, but graciously declined. “I wish to continue under Captain Hearted as quartermaster aboard the Rogue, if it be granted me.”
Though proud to keep Gunner on a quartermaster, Black-Hearted was disappointed and turned again to his crew. “Choose you another!”
“Mr. Shane Garrison, bids I”, shouted a crewmember by the name of Fischer Todd.
“Darby O’Dell,” shouted Darby himself.
“Darby’s Irish and everyone knows that Irishmen make for a poor captain!”
“Take it back or I’ll run ya through!” Darby cautioned.
“I’ll not take it back,” replied Fischer. “You’re an Irish coward and a fool! Not a soul on this ship would be fool enough to cast a vote your way.”
“Shut your fool mouths!” intervened Black-Hearted. “Any other names be bid upon, make your nomination known.” The men stayed silent for a good minute. Without a reply, Black-Hearted demanded, “Then make your choice. Which is it to be, Darby or Aaron? All those for Darby, put your sword to the sky.” Several men made known their approval. “
Alright then, all for Aaron?” Most of the crew raised their swords in opposition to the first vote. “Majority rules for Aaron! It’s done then. Captain Garrison, which man among these will be quartermaster on Roger’s Jolly?”
“Mr. Bones Henry’ll do just fine.”
Bones Henry had only been with Black-Hearted for nine months. Although he was a conniving individual, he was a great seaman and leader. Black-Hearted knew Bones would do well as quartermaster, but was more comfortable with Bones aboard Roger’s Jolly than his own ship.
“Bones Henry it is,” confirmed Black-Hearted.
Festering inside, Darby had enough and challenged Fischer with a drawn sword. “No good Irish, am I? You filthy English pig!”
Fischer stood his ground drawing out his own cutlass. “You dare challenge me? Well then, you really are a fool, aren’t you?”
“If it wasn’t for you,” assumed Darby, “I’d be Captain now!”
“Captain Garrison!” interrupted Black-Hearted. “Here be yur first test o’ captainship. What say you ‘bout this here dispute? The articles state that any dispute is to be settled in a manner befitting the dispute and the captain is to choose the manner in which it be settled. What say you ‘bout these two fools?”
After only a moment Captain Garrison made his first decision as Captain. “We’ll lay anchor at Widow’s Reef on our way to Port of Errors. The dispute will be settled there.”
Amid the outburst of favorable cheers, Gunner stated, “Aye, you’ll make a fine captain, indeed, Captain Garrison.”
Widow’s Reef was a broad mass of coral and rock, as flat as the sea and located where no other land was in sight. This reef could only be seen by the lookout in the crow’s nest. The reef was completely covered by the sea, rolling water over the jagged surface in swells as the sun beat relentlessly upon it.
Three hundred yards out from Widow’s Reef, the two ships dropped anchor. Darby and Fischer were taken by longboat to the far side of the reef and forced out at separate ends. Preparing each man with a small dagger, they were forced onto the reef without shoes.
Gunner offered a brief explanation. “The first man to reach the main deck of the Rogue will be allowed to rejoin their crew. The other will suffer a slow death on the reef, with no shelter, food, or fresh water. The surface of the reef is covered with razor sharp coral so watch your step.”
The longboats returned to their respective ships and upon the sound of a single gunshot, the struggle commenced.
They both darted toward the ship through ankle-high water, but once the jagged reef tore through the soles of their naked feet they fell to their knees. Now crawling, they each increased their pace, fighting through the pain and bleeding profusely. Reaching the outer point of the reef at the same time, they lunged toward one another, knives at the ready. Falling short, they both slipped to the surface losing both their knives to the sea. They landed just above an old skeleton wedged at the torso in a narrow crack in the reef.
“You’d better get used to him,” said Fischer. “You’re going to be here for a long time.”
Darby reached out and picked up the skull. “Not if I can help it,” he replied, slamming the skull into Fischer’s face. Fischer fell back bleeding at the bridge of his nose.
“You’re a dead man,” shouted Fischer, springing back with a loose femur in hand.
With a quick smack to his jaw, Darby fell back against the reef. Finding the other femur he blocked a second incoming blow. For the next several minutes they fought with the two femurs as though they were swords. But soon they ditched their efforts and rolled over into the sea to race toward the ship. Swimming side-by-side, they continued to force each other apart.
Darby fell short and reached out for Fischer, grabbing him from behind and forcing him beneath the surface of the water. They continued on like this until they could hear the cheers and the jeers from the two ships. They both reached the Rogue at the same time.
There were two long ropes awaiting them at the side of the ship leading to the main deck. As they ascended, Fischer took a wild swing, striking Darby in the face. Darby let go of the rope and fell back down a foot or two. With a second wild swing, Fischer over reached, allowing Darby to catch and twist his arm. With a huge smile Darby threw Fischer to the sea and continued upward.
As Darby placed both feet on the main deck, Fischer was left to Widow’s Reef where he awaited his own death. He was left with a small loaf of bread, a pint of rum and a pistol with a single round. Fischer could only watch as Roger’s Jolly and the Rogue grew smaller in the distance. Soon the ships were merely two insignificant dots on the horizon. Fischer lowered his head, knowing he would be dead before weeks end.
Captain Garrison made for a fine captain aboard Roger’s Jolly. He carried a large cutlass and a rare triple barrel pistol, which few pirates preferred. He maintained the peace and kept good order.
Black-Hearted’s new ship, the Rogue, was doubly reinforced and dressed with thirty-one cannons. Having three large masts, the Rogue could carry about one hundred and ten pirates without losing her speed.
With two separate crews at the ready, Black-Hearted prepared for his next big attack. Mr. Wresfin was forced to lay out all the proceedings of an English run vessel. Within a limited time, he was to make certain each crewmember looked and acted as though they were part of the Royal Navy. If Black-Hearted was to accomplish his design, Mr. Wresfin was expected to do the best job possible.
Spending the next two weeks at sea, Black-Hearted felt they were ready for their plight. Before their assault, Black-Hearted planned one last stopover at Port of Errors. While on Port of Errors, Mr. Wresfin was to talk to no one about their plans or face the same consequence as Captain Blair and Mr. Wresfin knew that dead men tell no tales.
Chapter VII
Trouble had been brewing over the last several months concerning Spain’s rumored alliance with France. Word came of a Spanish vessel called la Real, a merchant ship, owned by a wealthy Don named Rafael Reina. He had petitioned Queen Anne for the right of passage through her waters, since la Real was bound for France with nothing more than merchandise. The Queen approved the passage for the unknown merchant vessel and no English ship was to prevent its progress.
However, Queen Anne did feel somewhat uneasy about la Real’s destination. An unwelcome alliance between Spain and France was unnerving. There was a lot of tension between Spain and England, but Queen Anne did not wish to cause further tensions.
Captains Stirvin and Flynn were both summoned to the Queen’s Court. They were told to obtain any and all information in regards to this would-be alliance, by any means at their disposal. But, under no circumstances were they to attack or harm la Real.
Captain Stirvin dropped anchor at Port Lorne in pursuit of information linking Spanish plans to form an alliance with France. Knowing Port Lorne was the most recognized location for international trade, he felt it would be easiest there to find the information he needed. Admiral Flynn cruised to Port Lorne to corroborate information with him.
“Gather the men,” Captain Stirvin ordered Tweed. “Make sure they understand clearly that they are to return within four days, by six o’clock precisely.”
As soon as the men were gathered, Tweed addressed them. “You are free to go where you choose. Do as you please, so long as it is within the boundaries of our law! However, you must be back within four days. If you do not arrive four days hence you will be deemed a deserter, a crime punishable by death. You are to report to your commanding officer at precisely six o’clock that evening at which time we will weigh anchor and set sail for our next timely destination.” He looked over the men for a moment and shouted, “Dismissed!” Everyone quickly gathered up their things and departed from the ship. Tweed assigned two watchmen to guard the ship before he went his own way.
Tweed, Mr. Hall, William, and Royal Hawkins from the Crimson Reef, met up with Brent Sherman and Scott Coles, of the Sentry. Their plan was to cruise out to Port of Errors, knowing it w
as illegal for anyone assigned to an active vessel, such as the Crimson Reef at this time, to leave the town in which his ship was docked. Every sailor on active duty had to be ready at a moment’s notice and easily accessible.
They planned to meet up with a known privateer, Sir Fouste, just outside a nearby brothel along the harbor. Sir Fouste was prepared with a ready ship to ferry them the distance to Port of Errors. But dealings in secret with any privateer whether he was government sponsored or not, were seen as a traitorous act so the risk was great.
Sir Fouste offered them commoners clothing as a means of disguise. “Once aboard my ship, you’ll keep your mouths shut,” Sir Fouste warned, “or you’ll be in a mess of trouble.”
“So, when we meet this Darcy,” asked Scott, “we just provide the information and we’ll be given the gold, no questions asked?”
“Well, Darcy Wenham’s word is as good as his word is ever going to be and that, my friends, is as clear an answer as you are ever going to receive from the likes of such a man as he. Just remember, when you deal in treasonous affairs you deal with liars and thieves. Do you truly expect complete honesty and loyalty from someone willing to buy this information? Do you expect him to trust six mysterious men who are willing to turn on their own country for a little money? He has as much right trusting you as you do him. Just remember to keep a weathered eye upon your backsides. But don’t fret,” he said with a hint of a chuckle. “You have nothin’ to worry about, gents. Nonetheless, if I were in your boots, I would make certain to be on Darcy’s good side. Make the man happy and so shall you be.”
“And how do we find place on his good side?” questioned Royal, “We have never met the man.”
“You’ll want to stop at the marketplace in center of town and purchase yourselves a bottle of rum. Mr. Darcy Wenham is very fond of rum.”
“There’s still one thing that troubles me,” stated William.
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