by H C Storrer
“Yes Mum.” The maid curtsied and rushed off.
Leaning into her chair Anna offered Tristan a seat as well, “Are you an ol’ friend of Jack’s? One of ’is lost boys?”
“No, ma’am. I have only known Jack for a short time.” Tristan replied, refusing to sit.
“Do please make yourself comfortable. Sit.” She motioned again.
“Thank you, but I am in need of some important information to a pressing question.” He fixed Anna with a polite gaze as he sat only at the edge of the sete while lowering his hood.
“Your eyes are so green!” she gasped. The air around the visitor shimmered and pulsed with a golden hue. “Tristan?”
Tristan sat back. He hadn’t expected to be recognized. “He told you about me?”
“Of course. ’Ee tells me everyfin’. A ’usband and wife have no secrets.” Anna replied proudly.
“Hmm,” was all Tristan could reply, with a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Will he be back soon?”
Anna’s face fell. “No. He left a few months ago to chase after his, I mean . . . a wicked pirate.”
Tristan leaned forward, eager. “Where?”
“The Caribbean.” she replied wistfully. I have heard nothing since he left. He doesn’t even know ’ee will be a father.” She dabbed a handkerchief to the corner of her eyes, then suddenly looked up, excited. “You’re a fairy! You can find ’im faster than any ship, can’t you!”
“I must go.” Tristan stood. He despised what the shadow had done to Jack and feared that anything more he might say would shatter the poor woman’s image of her husband.
“Please.” Anna sank to her knees and latched onto Tristan’s cloak. “Please find ’im. Tell ’im to be careful. Tell ’im to come home to us.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she pleaded with him.
Tristan nodded and turned to the door. “I will find and help him.” Popping to fairy size, Tristan flashed in the direction of his hidden boat, eager to rid himself of the sound of Anna’s weeping.
Chapter 47
“T here she sits, Cap’n.” Talker—the new bos’n aboard the Fox—handed his glass to Jack.
Taking the telescope, Jack peered to the horizon, the low green hills in the distance only partially hiding the ship from sight, its tall masts still very visible against the blue sky. “There is but one entry into the bay, and it looks like there are rocky shoals to either side. Very smart.”
“The wind is against us as well,” Talker added.
“No doubt he has provisions to wait us out if we try and blockade him.”
“That’s what I would do.” Sergeant Pierce sidled up to the men. “What are your orders, Sir?”
“Sail on, keeping with this easterly wind. Let’s look for anchorage on the other side of the island,” Jack advised.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Sir,” Talker stopped him before he turned, “we don’t know that it is the Jolly after all.”
“It’s them. You can trust me, it’s them.” Jack gritted his teeth in contemplation and then turned. I can feel him.
***
Too slowly the ship sailed on, far enough away to make it seem like she had missed the Jolly Roger completely, but close enough that the pirates waited with bated breath.
“That was anofer of them royal boats.” Klemp looked down from his perch on an outcropping of palms on the northernmost tip of the island.
“Is y-y-you sure? Cap’n would think to t-t-take anofer prize if it w-were.” Below him, a stout sailor peered up, three canteens strapped over his stocky frame.
Klemp’s grin was something wicked to behold, a nasty scar racing down the side of his face cutting through the white ball that had been his left eye, his teeth black and rotting. “Hands me up a drink, an’ I will bets you a ration that that there boat is com’n back. She’s a royal itch’n fer a fight.”
The sturdy sailor pulled the bottom canteen free of his body and tossed the bottle up, Klemp catching it by the strap. “I knows b-better than to take a bet wif y-y-you, Klemp. I b-best b-be headn’ off to tell the cap’n.”
***
Talker was at the helm, Jack’s visage drawn. It was Pierce that was the first to break the silence. “I can see it in your faces. What’s wrong.”
“There ain’t noffin but that there pirate bay for anchorin’,” Talker was quick with the truth.
“We are not beaten yet,” Jack rebuffed.
Talker and Pierce exchanged a concerned look. They could feel the determination pulsing from their young captain.
“We could sail back to Port Royal. I am sure with another frigate we could end this,” Sergeant Pierce offered.
“NO!” Jack shot back. “No, Mr. Pierce. He can’t win.”
“Beggn’ yer pardon, Cap’n, but by times we circle back, that there ship will ‘ave set rigg’n an be gone to the ‘orizon,” Talker advised.
“Bahhh!” Jack hurled his dagger in a thrash, the weapon sinking itself to the hilt in the middle of the main mast. In a huff, he slammed the door of the captain’s quarters behind him with enough force that it nearly ripped the door in half.
“Pickling in coconut milk makes a man angry.” Gags nodded to the others knowingly.
Jack lay upon his cot, the anger burning a fever over his forehead. He would not be beaten. He had power, yet he felt as helpless as the little boy in the alley against Nathan’s fists.
‘Use the power,’ the shadow whispered.
“If they see me… It won’t work. They would chase me down like a witch. I would have neither crew nor ship,” Jack replied.
‘Who needs a crew?’ the shadow invaded his thoughts. ‘You have power, use it.’
Jack sat up as the blood-red sun hovered on the curve of the sea. They had wasted the day circling the island. “I have power.” Jack nodded in agreement as he stood.
‘Use it.’
“Mr. Talker!” Jack barked.
In a moment, the man was at his door, trying to pick it up so that it would stay in place. “Aye, Cap’n?”
“I must think. No one will disturb me.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” Talker nodded.
“That means no one. This door will be barred.” Jack’s eyes filled with a storm cloud of intent. The gravity of the words not lost on the bos’n.
“Aye, Aye Cap’n.”
***
It was well past twilight, the sky silver black, when Jack burst from the window of his cabin like a shot. Rocketing to the stars above in clear sky, he hovered in the dark evening breeze. The men on watch were oblivious as the Fox prodded back slowly to the pirate channel of the island miles away. Spinning down, he split the air over the calm sea with such speed and force that a clear wake scattered below him. As he closed the distance to the island, he spied the billowing silhouette of the Jolly Roger as it pressed from the cove toward open water. Talker had been right. Against a normal enemy, they would be gone before the Fox had a chance to make landfall.
Pulsing with triumph, he was aboard the Roger in a moment. All over the ship, like ants, men crawled about the rigging. Dashing up to the to the topsail gallant he filled his fist with the hilt of his gladius, rolling the blade with a twist of his wrist.
‘We could end him now?’ Clear in his mind, Jack could see the image given by the shadow of Nathan sound asleep within his quarters.
Then there would be no one to see my victory. There is nothing worse for a man like that than to lose with an audience. I will take everything from him as he took everything from me. In a flash, Jack dove about the main mast, cutting free the taut ropes that held the sails in place, causing the white canvas to billow lifelessly to the deck. Before the men could react, he dashed about the ship, unseen in the waning moonlight at a speed that would have made a fairy jealous. In an instant, the Roger glided out to open water and then slowly began to drift with the current.
“What is the meaning of all this, Mr. Franks?” Nathan emerged on deck, barking at his bos’n, feeling the ship lurch as it slowed.
“I can’t fathom?” The man turned, his face ashen. All about the ship, sail and rigging lay atop the deck, sprawling in deathly white plumes, some being tugged into the black sea as they blew overboard.
“Every strand of line’s been cut Cap’n,” A sailor was running aft, with severed rope in hand. “Slashed through!”
“Bahh!” Nathan yelled in frustration. “I want every swab on deck. Find me the traitor who done this an quarter ’im!”
Chapter 48
“T hey are drifting towards us, only half rigged.” Pierce’s voice was the first to catch Jack’s attention as he appeared on deck in the light of dawn.
“What are you all on about?” Jack gripped the spyglass in mock perturbation.
“The Jolly, Sir, she sits like a duck ready fer pluck’n,” Talker said with a smile.
“I’ll be.” Jack let the glass lower a moment. “Open the ports, ready the guns. I want every man jack who can carry a cutlass at the ready. We have a pirate to hang, lads.”
“You ’eard the cap’n!” Talker burst in. “Beat to quarters, rats!”
***
As the morning sun breached the eastern waves, the Fox closed the gap quickly, the Jolly’s silhouette a black monument of its deeds. Jack’s men waited in anticipation, the marines like red statues on deck. “Bring us along their port side,” Jack commanded. “I don’t want them trying to run back to the cove.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n’” The man at the helm adjusted.
“Mr. Talker, are we ready at the guns?”
“Yes, Sir! Ready an’ willing,” the bosn’ replied.
“After the first volley, I want chain. Let’s take the masts down and leave them dead in the water,” Jack ordered.
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
Just then, a single bullet whizzed over the deck, splitting into the mainsail, the Fox coming quickly upon the port side of the Jolly Roger.
“Ready your guns!” Sergeant Pierce ordered, sabre in hand. The firelocks of the muskets clacked in unison. “First line! Take aim!” Six men rolled out of formation to the forecastle and stood at the ready. Another ball zipped in a white puff from the Jolly, a marine collapsing from the impact. “Fire!” Pierce dropped his sabre. In unison five muskets returned fire in a single volley quickly followed by two sailors from the Jolly Roger collapsing from the rigging.
‘BA BOOM!’ the aft-most cannon of the Jolly Roger fired, the ball crashing into the Fox, splintering the forecastle. The two ships were less than a hundred yards apart; the Fox quickly closing under full sail.
‘BA BOOM!’ the foremost cannon on the Fox replied. The Jolly Roger skittered from the impact.
“Hold that fire! Blasted!” Jack barked.
Like an echo, his command rushed down the ship.
“Take aim.” Pierce held his sabre overhead. “Fire!” The flame of the muskets rushed out in quick succession, the smoke washing the deck.
‘BA BOOM! BA BOOM!’ The volleys off the Jolly Roger began in earnest. Some balls landed short at the water line, and others tore into the hold. They were nearly parallel. Jack could see Nathan at the helm, pistol in one hand, a curved karambit in the other.
“NOW!” Jack bellowed, his voice echoing as the shadow tore the air in excitement.
All along the Fox, the guns started firing, swirls of smoke and flame rushing down its side like a dragon was inside fighting to come out. Without warning, the Jolly Roger turned to the flame in a dash, causing most of the balls from the Fox to hit far above the aim, shooting over the deck and splashing helplessly on the other side. Before the Fox could react, the two ships were side by side.
At point-blank range, the Jolly let loose its own guns in a single volley, tearing huge splinters of wood from the Fox’s hull as the balls pounded in one side of the ship and passed clean through the other side. The acrid stench of spent powder and smoke smothered both vessels as the destruction continued. “Ware SHIP! WARE SHIP!” Talker shrieked over the tumult, his voice cracking with worry.
Quick as a whistle the helmsman spun the wheel hard, the ship careening to port, turning away from the battle. In unison, the well-trained crew took to the rigging as they fought the wind and sea so that after the turn they would bring a fresh broadside to the Jolly Roger, raking its deck.
“NO!” Jack screamed over the din. “Take us in to board!” It was too late. In awe, he looked on as Nathan rushed about barking orders. In miraculous fashion, the masts of the pirate ship filled with sail that had been tied down. Before the men of the Fox could even react, the white sheets billowed, the Jolly Roger lurching with the wind out to open water.
‘BOOM, BOOM, BOOM,’ the deck cannons of the Jolly Roger reported, shot tearing through the limp sails of the Fox. ‘BA BOOM,’ the main cannon followed, chain shot raking through the aft quarter of the ship. Jack found himself on his knees, the pressure of the shadow holding him down as the ball connected by a singing chain spun through the air, shattering the helm, ripping the helmsman in half, and then splintering the mizzen mast four feet up in a single blow. The sail and rigging groaned and then collapsed backward, smashing into the stern. Circling about, the Jolly Roger brought another fresh broadside just as the Fox gained more sail, finishing its maneuver.
Both vessels exchanged fire in a furious battle, ball and shot blasting away huge planks of wood, splinters racing through the air like thousands of daggers, cutting down men as they stood.
‘Enough of this!’ The shadow prodded Jack to his feet. Only yards away Nathan stalked the deck of the Jolly Roger unmolested, barking orders to his crew. Jack gripped his gladius and readied himself to take flight when the Fox took a turn in the waves and started to careen towards and then away from the pirate ship. Without the helm, the poor vessel was slave to the current, propelling forward with whatever sail was left.
“Get down below and right the chain!” Talker barked. “We has to get control o’ the ship!”
The idea struck Jack like a lead ball. Taking the shadow, he gripped the rudder in his mind’s eye and shoved it all the way over so that the Fox turned hard, racing towards Nathan. The movement was met by cannon balls rushing over the deck, others splashing helpless as the Fox cut a wake right up to the Jolly Roger. Spinning the rudder back at the last moment, both ships collided with a loud crunch; rigging from both sides immediately tangled so that neither could let go.
“Board, men!” Sergeant Pierce was the first on his feet, since every man had been knocked to the deck like bowling pins. He didn’t wait for the grappling hooks and tow ropes but leapt over the gap itching for a fight.
“Up on their deck, ye swabs!” Nathan growled out in reply.
The rending blasts of cannon ceased, leaving the decks awash with the ‘pop, pop, pop’ of the pistols and muskets at hand. As gangplanks raced over what gap was left, men rushed aboard each vessel in confusion. Cutlasses and clubs began to tap the air as the men manning the big guns below scrambled topside to help their mates.
Jack stood like a statue, his eyes fixed on the idol of his resentment. Nathan, a slight limp coming with age, hobbled about, prodding his men to board the Fox. As the battle became heated, Nathan blasted one of his Majesty’s sailors in the face with his pistol, flipped it around like a club, and blocked the blow of another man’s cutlass. Swinging his karambit around his thumb, Nathan twisted up behind the man, bracing him with the bar of his arm, and then cut his throat in a fluid motion. Before the poor soul had dropped lifeless to his feet, Nathan removed the sword from his hand and then turned to face two more men rushing to him.
“NATHAN!” Jack yelled, his voices thunderous over the din of battle, bringing the conflict to a sudden pause. In a single leap, Jack launched off of the deck of the Fox, high into the air and landed with a resonating thud upon the Jolly Roger. With his gladius in hand he stood before the blond-bearded pirate.
“Aye?” Nathan skittered back warrily at the unnatural movement. “Do I know ye?”
“You should,
you half blind son of a dog!” Jack growled.
Nathan put his good eye on the boy with a scowl. Jack had struck him in the spot most tender. “An’ who is you, pup? You’s seen nofin but milk an’ nappies o’ life. Tell me yer name so I cans make a pro’er marker after you’re dead.”
“You already know my name. I was there the night William blinded you in that eye.” Jack lifted his arm, ripping back the sleeve to reveal the mottled scar twisting up his forearm.
Nathan blinked his good eye, his mouth muttering in thought.
From Jack’s periphery a second pirate approached, his blade overhead. In a flash, Jack parried the blow and ripped the man through the middle in a spray of blood. Nathan’s eyes followed the fall of the dead sailor as he collapsed to the deck in confusion. The boy had hardly moved. Nathan’s arms drooped as he leaned forward, squinting. “Jack?”
“Yes, stepfather,” Jack spit through gritted teeth. Before another word exchanged, both men were back on the stern of the Jolly Roger in an instant, where the fighting had yet to spread. Nathan stumbled in bewilderment, his neck sore as if he had been choked. “But you can call me the angel of death.” Dashing forward at what felt like a snail’s pace, Jack brought the back of his hand to Nathan’s jaw, sending him skittering across the deck.
Slowly gaining his footing, Nathan stumbled from the force of the blow as Jack prowled closer. “Now you know how we felt when you laid hands on my mother and me!” Jack’s eyes, crazed with bloodlust, brought Nathan to his senses in time to raise his sword, blocking the next blow. Swinging up with his karambit in reply, the pirate slashed and parried, but Jack was never where Nathan expected him to be. It was as if he was fighting the wind while searing cuts began to bloom across his arms from nowhere.