Pirates of the Storm (Stranded In Time Book 1)

by Fletcher Best

  “Thank you, Captain,” Jeff smiled with satisfaction.

  The Captain continued, “Now, we are headed to join with some of my fellow Captains of the Brethren of the Coast to sack a few Spanish settlements to the South. Usually we do not encounter any substantial resistance, but there are the occasional casualties. As the ship’s surgeon, you will need to familiarize yourself with the medicine box. Find Mr. Graves and he will take you to it.”

  “Yes Captain,” Jeff agreed and he headed down the steps to the main deck. He did not see Graves anywhere, so he headed below deck. Jeff soon found Graves in the cargo hold with several other men who were moving the cargo around to make more room. “Mr. Graves, the Captain instructed me to find you and have you show me the medicine box.”

  “Aye, Mr. Greene,” Graves said, looking somewhat relieved to have a break from the heavy lifting.

  Jeff followed Graves into a small cabin off the main crew quarters. As Graves turned up the lantern, Jeff could see that the walls, floor, and tall wooden table in the center of the room were all covered with splatters of various types of grime, much of which he figured must be blood. Graves pulled the medicine box from under the table and set it on the top. “Here it be,” Graves said. “Will ye be needin’ anything else, Mr. Greene?”

  “No, Mr. Graves. This should do.”

  “Very well, then,” Graves said with a nod. “I best be getting’ back to work in the hold before Crabtree checks up on me.” Graves said as he turned to leave.

  Jeff looked at the medicine box. It too was covered with various splashes of unknown liquids and what he suspected were bodily fluids. He tried not to think about what diseases were still active on the box and on the surfaces of the room. Jeff carefully opened the medicine box. A piece of paper was glued to the inside of the top of the box which had a list of the various medicines and what they were used for. While there was a relatively large number of bottles, Jeff quickly realized that some of the more useful and important remedies had empty bottles or the bottles were missing altogether. The worst part was that there did not appear to be any medicines left that could be used as antiseptics or antibiotics.

  Given that the crew was about to embark on some potentially dangerous shore raids, Jeff knew that lacking such medications could be disastrous. He decided that he should notify the Captain and made his way back up to the bridge. “Ah, Mr. Greene, I trust that Mr. Graves delivered the medicine box to you.”

  “Yes, Captain, but there is a problem. There are no medicines for tending wounds left in the box. If any of the crew gets injured, there’s a good chance they could get septic and die from what would otherwise be survivable.”

  “Hmmm. I feared as much,” Coxen nodded. I had hoped that our recent string of deaths was simply a matter of Graves’ incompetence. But it would seem that it goes beyond that. Unfortunately, Mr. Greene, we are nowhere near any port where we can replenish the medicine box. Port Royal in Jamaica would be the closest, but we will not be going anywhere near there for quite some time. You will simply need to improvise when needed.”

  “Improvise. Right. I’ll see what I can do,” Jeff said as he departed for the medical cabin.

  He once again looked in the medicine box and confirmed his earlier assessment. There were no antiseptics nor antibiotics left. He looked around the cabin and realized that one priority was going to be cleaning the room to try to minimize the potential for infection. But first, he needed to figure out what else was available onboard that he could use for disinfection if it became necessary. From his water purification project, he knew that limes were available, but he wasn’t sure how good lime juice by itself would work on an open wound.

  He made his way to the galley, where Jenny was cleaning up from the morning meal. She greeted him with a smile, “Hello, Mr. Greene! That was quite fine work we did on those Spanish ships, eh?” She looked past him to make sure nobody else was there before pulling him toward her and kissing him. As she stepped back, she carefully wiped away the grime from her face that had passed to his. “I am very much looking forward to the next opportunity we have to be alone together,” she said as she winked at him.

  “As am I,” Jeff smiled. Though at first glance, she still looked very much like a man, Jeff could now easily see the beauty beneath the disguise and he found himself becoming quite fond of ‘Mr. Robinson’.

  “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Greene?”

  “I was going through the medicine box and discovered that we are lacking in some important items. The Captain has told me to improvise if needed, and I am here to check our supply of things that might serve the purpose. I know we have limes and we have onions because there were some in the fish stew the other night.”

  “Aye,” Jenny nodded, “We have ample supplies of both.”

  “Do we also have garlic?” Jeff asked.

  “Aye,” she replied.

  “Good. They aren’t actual antibiotics, but they’re better than nothing.”

  “Antibi.. What?” Jenny said with an arched eyebrow.

  “Antibiotics. Medicine for infection… sepsis,” he answered.

  “Oh,” she said, still looking somewhat doubtful.

  “Also, may I have some ash from the fire pit?”

  “Yes, but may I ask for what purpose? Surely you don’t plan on copying my beauty treatment,” she said, gesturing at her face and giggling.

  “No, although it is a good look on you,” he said with a laugh. “I’m going to clean the surgeon’s cabin and I want the ash to use as a disinfectant.”

  Robinson looked puzzled. “You’re welcome to take as much ash as you like, but I don’t see how you can clean with something that is dirty.”

  “Ash will kill the bacteria that cause infection,” Jeff explained.

  “If you say so, but it seems to me that you will just be making a mess.”

  “It may very well wind up looking that way, but better to have ash all over the place than the blood and guts that are there now,” Jeff said, dreading the project ahead.

  Jenny picked up a small bucket and scooped some ash into it. “Is this enough?”

  “That should be plenty to start,” Jeff nodded. Once again, Jenny looked behind him to make sure they were not seen before pulling his head to hers and kissing him as she handed him the bucket of ash. “Thank you, Mr. Robinson,” Jeff said as he departed.

  Jeff dropped off the bucket of ash in the surgeon’s cabin before setting off to collect a bucket of water, a brush, and a mop. He headed out onto deck and approached Crabtree who was supervising the various activities of the crew. “Mr. Crabtree, I am in need of a brush and a mop and bucket to clean the surgeon’s cabin.”

  Crabtree looked at him blankly. “Surgeon’s cabin?”

  “That room where injured men get medical treatment.”

  Crabtree nodded, “Aye, we be callin’ it Graves’ butcher shop! Ye can take that mop and bucket there. A brush ye can find in the cargo hold.” Jeff filled the bucket with seawater before heading below deck. He found a brush in the cargo hold and dropped it in the bucket as he headed back to the surgeon’s cabin.

  For the next few hours, he sprinkled ash and seawater on every surface and scrubbed it into the wood with the brush. Finally, he mopped up the excess water and ash. By the time he was done, the room looked just as dingy as when he started, but the staining of the surfaces was now simply the gray color of the ash, rather than the reddish-brown of dried blood. His arms and back were aching from the work, but Jeff knew that his efforts would probably save lives if anyone needed any major treatment in that cabin. He returned the brush to the cargo hold and carried the mop and bucket back out to where he had found them on deck. He set them down and stretched his back.

  Jeff realized he was quite hungry and headed into the galley. Robinson was in the midst of preparing a large pot of stew for dinner and smiled at him as he entered. “Did you make good use of the ashes?” she asked.

  “Yes, I think so,” Jeff replied. “I was
hoping to get a bite to eat.”

  “Help yourself to coconuts or fruit. There’s also a platter of breadnut flatbread cooling over there. There will be turtle stew tonight if you leave me alone so I can finish making it.”

  “All right, I can take a hint,” Jeff smiled as he picked up a banana and some flatbread. He grabbed a knife from the wall and whacked the top off a coconut to drink and then gathered his food and headed topside. He plopped down on a corner of the deck out of the way of the crew and ate quickly. After a few minutes, he could feel some energy returning, but he was feeling quite stiff, so he stood up to stretch.

  He looked out over the rail and could see that now the ship was well out into the open water. The men who were not actively manning the sails were scattered about the deck preparing their swords and flintlocks for the coming raids. He looked up at the wheel and the Captain beckoned him. As Jeff climbed the steps to the helm, the Captain greeted him. “I trust you have been occupying your time fruitfully, Mr. Greene?”

  “Yes, Captain. I have cleaned the surgeon’s cabin and have found some options for fighting infection should any injuries occur.”

  “Very good,” the Captain acknowledged. “It is my hope that your services as ship’s surgeon will not be needed. Most often the settlements we raid put up little resistance. They usually have a small contingent of soldiers who are among the least of the Spanish military and the settlers know we are mostly after the payroll, weapons, and any other valuables we find in the governors’ residences. Most are happy to give us what we want and few are foolish enough to fight us. Those who are, rarely draw any of our blood.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Captain,” Jeff said, “Speaking of drawing blood, while I am able to fight reasonably well, I have no experience with your swords or firearms. I was thinking it might be wise to at least learn the basics of the sword techniques of this era and how to load and fire a flintlock.”

  “Aye,” the Captain nodded. “That is sound thinking, Mr. Greene. Though as ship’s surgeon, you shall remain on the ship during the raids, there might come a time when you would be called upon to help defend the ship. Mr. Harrison has instructed many of the crew in swordplay and he is quite good with the flintlocks as well. He does not appear to be busy…”

  Jeff interrupted nervously, “With all due respect Captain, given my history with Mr. Harrison, is it really a good idea for me to be in close proximity to him with blades and guns?”

  The Captain laughed. “Mr. Greene, I am sure that Mr. Harrison does have some residual ill feelings toward you, but you are now a member of the crew. As such, he would never intentionally bring severe harm to you. You may have some need of your own medicines before your lessons are through, but in my experience, a little blood can accelerate the learning process.”

  “Great!” Jeff said with mock enthusiasm.

  The Captain called down to the deck, “Mr. Harrison!”

  “Aye, Captain?” he said as he stood and walked toward the helm.

  “Mr. Harrison, Mr. Greene here is in need of some training with the sword and guns. Would you do the honors?”

  “Aye, Captain. It would be me pleasure,” he said with a gleam in his eye.

  “Very good, you shall begin immediately. We shall need Mr. Greene to be prepared when we meet up with the Brethren.”

  “Aye, Captain!” Harrison replied.

  “Oh, and Mr. Harrison,” the Captain added, “I believe it goes without saying, but we shall need Mr. Greene to have all of his limbs and be able-bodied when we meet up with the Brethren.”

  “Aye… Do ye include fingers when ye say limbs, Captain?”

  The Captain chuckled, “Yes, Mr. Harrison, I was including fingers - the ship’s surgeon needs his fingers.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Harrison replied with a hint of disappointment.

  Coxen turned to Jeff, “Well, Mr. Greene, Mr. Harrison awaits. Fair thee well. Hopefully I will see you at dinner.”

  “Yes, well, until dinner then,” Jeff said with some apprehension as he headed to the main deck.

  Harrison was waiting for Jeff when he made it to the center of the deck and tossed him a sword. Jeff grabbed for the handle but missed and managed to just barely slide his foot out of the way as the tip of the blade imbedded itself in the deck. Jeff looked angrily at Harrison who shrugged his shoulders and said, “Captain not say nothin’ ‘bout toes, did ‘e?” Jeff took a deep breath and grabbed ahold of the sword, wrenching it free from the deck. “Now, Mr. Greene, time for ye to become a swordsman!” Harrison said with more than a little glee.

  Jeff adjusted his grip on the sword as Harrison raised his and stepped forward with an overhand swing. Jeff blocked the slice and Harrison stepped back. “Very good, Mr. Greene! You have passed lesson one. Now for lesson two…” Harrison suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs and ran at Jeff, swinging the sword wildly. Jeff managed to deflect the first three blows of Harrison’s sword, but on the fourth, the tip of the blade nicked the tip of his nose. Harrison ceased his attack. “Not bad for a greenie, but ye shall need to do better if ye wish to keep yer head!” A thin trickle of blood ran from Jeff’s nose and he could taste it on his lips. He wiped the blood from his face on his sleeve. The wound didn’t hurt that much, but he knew if it had been a real fight without Harrison controlling his attack, he’d probably be dead. “Now,” Harrison said, “I’ll show ye the right way to handle yer blade…” The pirate set down his sword and stepped behind Jeff, grasping the wrist of his sword arm. “Like this,” Harrison said, moving Jeff’s arms through a series of motions.

  After a few minutes of moving him through the paces, Harrison called Graves over. “Mr.Graves, give us yer best attack and I shall assist Mr. Greene with defense.” Graves nodded, pulled his flintlock and took aim at Jeff and Harrison. “No! Graves, ye donkey!” Harrison yelled, “Your best SWORD attack!”

  “Aye!” Graves acknowledged, lowering the gun. He slipped the flintlock in his belt and drew his sword. Graves advanced, swinging his sword.

  Harrison deftly guided Jeff’s arm and easily warded off a flurry of slices. “Good!” “That will be all Mr. Graves. Mr. Pike, take over for Graves.” Pike stepped forward and drew his sword. Once again, with Harrison guiding his arm, Jeff was able to successfully defend himself. The process was repeated with several more members of the crew, and gradually Jeff was taking over the control of his arm from Harrison. Finally, Harrison stepped away altogether and Jeff defended against a few more members of the crew before Harrison called a halt. “Very good, Mr. Greene! Ye be ready for the next step. Wait here.”

  Harrison disappeared below deck as Jeff caught his breath. His arm was getting tired and sore from the sword play, but he was pleased with his progress. Harrison soon returned with a strip of cloth and a mop. He tied the strip of cloth to the end of the mop and held it out in front of him with the cloth hanging a few feet in front of Jeff’s face. “Now, Mr. Greene, slice the cloth.” Jeff raised his sword and swung at the cloth, but Harrison moved it away just in time and he missed it completely. “Ye did not think I be makin’ it that easy did ye?” Harrison smiled.

  “I was kind of hoping you would,” Jeff replied.

  He once again readied the sword and faked a swing. Harrison was not fooled and didn’t even twitch. Jeff concentrated and quickly swung at the cloth but narrowly missed it as once again Harrison was too quick. Jeff would swing and miss several more times but each time he was a little faster and more direct with his movements. He finally succeeded in slicing a tiny fragment from the end of the cloth strip and his success was greeted with the cheers of several members of the crew who had been watching.

  “Huzzah, Mr. Greene!” Crabtree exclaimed. “You be the first to strike the cloth in quite some time.”

  “Well done!” Captain Coxen called down from the bridge. “We might make a pirate of you yet, Mr. Greene!”

  Harrison nodded his approval at Jeff and proceeded to hold the cloth strip, now slightly shorter, in front of
him again. “Ye still be needin’ some practice,” Harrison said. Jeff nodded his agreement and proceeded with his training. He succeeded in slicing through the cloth a few more times over the next 10 minutes or so, but he had reached a point where he could barely hold the sword up any longer. Harrison finally put down the mop and relieved Jeff of the sword.

  He then led Jeff over to the rail of the ship and pulled his pistol from his belt. “Now ye need to know how to load and shoot,” Harrison said as he pulled a pouch from his belt. Harrison demonstrated how to load the pistol and then handed it to Jeff. “Pull back the hammer and she be ready to fire.” Jeff cocked the weapon and pointed it out at the water. “Go ahead and fire so ye get the feel ‘o it,” Harrison said. Jeff extended his arm and squeezed the trigger. The noise of the gun was deafening and he felt a shower of small stings on his arm as tiny bits of burning gunpowder landed on his skin. He had never fired a modern handgun, so he really didn’t have a basis of comparison, but the flintlock seemed to him to have a rather large kick. He saw the splash where the shot hit and was somewhat surprised by its location.

  Though a novice gunman, he realized right away that the lack of accuracy with this weapon was as much due to its limitations as due to his own lack of skill. “What type of reliable range do you get with one of these?” Jeff asked Harrison.

  “It be good for across the deck o’ a ship like this. Maybe a bit further with some luck. Now, ye load it as I showed ye.” Jeff set to work loading the weapon as Harrison stepped away. He returned with a small piece of scrap wood as Jeff completed the loading process. “Ye ready fer a target?”