The Untold Stories of Neverland: The Complete Box Set

by K. R. Thompson

  “I don’t know.” The answer was the same each time the question was asked. Archie didn’t like the idea, either, but he was at a loss for what should be done. After all, he hadn’t been captain a full day, he didn’t have all the answers. “Feed them well, and find a way to ask if they would like to join our crew, perhaps?”

  “Half of them are women and children. I doubt they’ll wish to join and I don’t know that our men will want them to. Women bring bad luck on a ship. Then there’s the old chief. He’s just,” Harper frowned, “old. He couldn’t climb the rigging if his life depended on it.”

  Archie shrugged, he didn’t have an answer to this dilemma yet, or to the fact that all attempts at communication with the Indians had been fruitless. Working in the print shop for years had given him the basic knowledge of many different languages. He wasn’t fluent in them, but he could manage to get the general idea relayed to the person he was speaking to. The Indians who inhabited the hold were a complete mystery to him. Their language like nothing he had ever heard before. No matter how hard he tried, or which individual he tried to communicate with, they couldn’t understand one another. Through the new Spanish crew members, he managed to learn that the merchant ship had captured the Indians in Mexico, intending to sell them as slaves once they reached Spain. None of them had been able to understand the Indians’ language, either.

  Harper watched him for a long moment, and then continued as if there hadn’t been a lull of silence, “Speaking of food and new recruits, I have something to report from my brief position held as captain. We had a slight mishap while you were gone to the merchant ship. We’ll need another cook.” He gave Archie a dour look. “The new cook got his self killed in the battle. One of the cannons came loose after it fired. The ropes broke, and the cannon went a-rollin’ and squashed him against the mast. That’s why I had them stop firing, we were trying to pull the poor bugger out. He was stuck in there like he was part of the boat.”

  Archie grimaced. The image painted in his head wasn’t one he wished to keep and the thoughts of yet another funeral he had to officiate, along with the bodies of Moreau and a dozen others, was depressing at best.

  He caught a scent wafting up through the floorboards that sent his stomach to grumbling. “Do you know who is in the galley? I smell something cooking.”

  “Ach, yes. Boggs is cooking. He said he felt responsible for the Injuns, since he found ’em and all.” Harper shrugged as if it wasn’t any big deal.

  Archie wondered why he hadn’t thought of Boggs as a cook earlier. With the man’s wide girth and the amount of belching he performed in a day’s time, it was easy to assume that he should have some inkling of how to fix basic meals. If the pleasant scent was any indication that it was true, Archie intended to give the man the position immediately as he had no intention of cooking ever again if he could get out of it.

  A scream ripped through the air, surprising Archie and Harper so that they both jumped. Another scream followed the first, and the two tore out of the map room to find the source.

  The voice was feminine, and as there was only one place any woman would be on the ship, they headed toward the hold. Archie tripped on the last step, and landed against the old Indian chief, who took a step back and began speaking quickly in his language as if Archie understood. When the old man realized that wasn’t working, he gestured wildly to the beams overhead.

  Another scream pierced the air, followed by more frantic gesturing. The woman was on deck. Archie and Harper did an about face and scrambled back up the steps.

  The deck was vacant. The men who should have been at their stations were not there. Archie spotted Black Caesar by the stack of ropes behind the mast. He was kneeling over someone. Long, tan legs were kicking at his torso in a futile attempt to escape.

  “You will stop that this instant!” Archie bellowed, unsheathing his rapier on his way past the mast. He had no intention of letting such vile happenings occur under his watch. He and his crew may very well be pirates, but he would have them act civilized. That meant no rutting around in the rope piles with unwilling females.

  He placed the tip of his blade at the base of Caesar’s skull. “You heard me.” Anger seeped into his words as his voice dropped octaves. “If you do not stand, I will run you through and throw you overboard for the fish.”

  After a single, still moment, Caesar let go of the girl beneath him. The young woman scrambled away and cowered by the railing. Archie felt Harper move behind him, and then watched from the corner of his eye as the lad made a wide circle around them to check on her.

  Instead of standing, Caesar lifted his head, as if gauging the courage of his new captain. The point of the rapier dug into the tattooed skin, and a small trickle of blood ran down the muscles between his shoulder blades and dribbled along his back.

  Archie held fast. He was annoyed that Caesar was testing his will, and he hoped the idiot would run himself through and save him the trouble.

  It seemed that was what Caesar had in mind. The tip pierced further. So entranced was Archie watching the trickle turn to a thick line, he almost didn’t notice Caesar shift.

  A ray of sun glinted off of a steel blade at Caesar’s side, catching his attention without a second to lose. As Caesar swung his sword around, Archie met it with the rapier. The blades clashed, sending a jarring vibration down Archie’s arm.

  The two locked gazes over crossed steel.

  “T-the Indians are part of the p-plunder,” Harper spoke up from behind the mast. “No p-pirate is to steal any part of the l-loot until we reach port and divide our s-shares.”

  If Archie could have reached Harper, he would have kissed him. He didn’t know a lot about the pirate rules, but he thought the theft of booty of over a hundred souls should be a grave offense. It seemed Caesar was taking the words into consideration as the pressure against Archie’s blade lessened for a second. Then something dark and sinister moved under the surface of Caesar’s eyes.

  He struck Archie’s blade with even greater force, shoving him backward, and then advanced as Archie teetered near the top of the steps.

  He wishes to kill me, Archie thought as he caught his footing and readied his stance. He caught sight of Harper over Caesar’s shoulder. He looked stunned that Caesar had no problem committing mutiny.

  Well, I’m rather shocked myself, Archie thought in the last seconds before Caesar’s thick blade crossed that of his rapier again. The man is insane.

  Caesar seemed to be proficient in hacking away with his cutlass, as if each thrust and clash contained every bit of force that his massive body held. Archie was having a bit of trouble matching the power being plunged at him, so he relied on his years of training and decided that wearing the pirate out would be his best option of survival.

  The cutlass Caesar wielded would have been perfect for slashing through bodies in close combat, but in a swordfight, it would become heavy and use more energy, the longer the battle waged on. In this fight of one on one, the rapier would reign supreme. It was a light and precise blade, and it would be deadly, if Archie could keep the correct distance away and take enough time to wear Caesar down.

  He concentrated on his footwork, taking care not to trip over ropes, as he kept a careful space between himself and the man bent on murdering him. He dodged the majority of the blows, as they were slung in the general vicinity of his middle. If he were a betting man, he would have wagered that Caesar’s plan was to slice him in half. Archie managed to place a few well-placed thrusts that got through the blocks, but they still missed their intended marks.

  They fought down the length of the ship, and turned to come back up the other side. Out of the corner of his eye, Archie noted that they were attracting quite the crowd. Both pirates and Indians were watching on the quarterdeck, and many were crammed at the mouth of the steps that led below the deck. All were safely out of the way, but still curious to see what was happening.

  “Mutiny.” Archie heard the word whispered from more
than one as he fought his way past the onlookers. Though none had offered to come to his aid, it was nice to know that his crew was of the same mindset as himself. Once this duel was finished—and if he still lived—he planned to have a talk to his men about Caesar’s blatant insubordination, and dare any of them to make the same mistake.

  Caesar is wearing down, Archie noted. His thrusts were becoming more sluggish, it was a matter of time before he would make the mistake that would win Archie the duel.

  Then, it happened. Archie knew they were nearing the center of the ship, but didn’t notice the chest of golden coins until it was too late. His heel caught the wooden lid, and he fell backward, landing near the barrel of silver dust. The golden medallions clinked as they rolled around the deck, sparkling in the sun.

  Archie struggled to stand. As he gripped the side of the barrel, he realized his rapier lay a few feet away, out of reach. Caesar approached, an evil smile painting his black face. His pointed white teeth sparkled as bright as the medallions.

  This is it, Archie thought. The end.

  As Caesar raised his blade for the final blow, Archie closed his eyes. What happened next was horrifying. Instead of feeling the cutlass sever his body and end his life, Archie found his head being forced down into the barrel of silver dust. A grip like iron was wrapped in his long black hair, making it impossible to move his head.

  Archie tried to push at Caesar, but was shoved even further into the mound of silver. His face was covered now and there wasn’t any way to avoid breathing it in. It filled his nose and his mouth, choking him as it made its way down his throat.

  Adrenaline pumped through his body as he fought, trying to gag and push at Caesar at the same time. The grip on his head didn’t lessen, proving Caesar still held more strength than Archie had given him credit for.

  He was weakening. All of his air was gone; the blasted silver had taken its place. Just as his mind started to go numb, his ears heard a muffled thwack, followed by a loud sound, as if someone had dropped a cannon ball on the deck. His head freed, Archie slid off the barrel and onto the floorboards in a heap.

  As he lay there, Archie’s eyes opened just long enough to make out Harper. The lad stood nearby, holding an oar. His eyes looked hard and angry as he spoke, his words echoed in the darkness that took over,

  “No one breaks the pirate code.”

  10

  The Pirate Code

  HE AWOKE WITH his lungs on fire. The pair of dark, beautiful eyes that stared down at him didn’t lessen the pain, but it did manage to distract him long enough that the woman had sufficient time to press a cup to his lips before he could straighten his thoughts and hack up his lungs. He took a sip, sat straight up in the cot, and then proceeded to cough as if his life depended on it.

  At least it wasn’t ale. Terrible events of late had involved the presence of ale, so as the rum burnt its way down his throat, he took it as a sign that he was still among the land of the living.

  “Oh good, you’re awake.” The relieved voice of Harper caught his ears in the short breaths between coughs.

  When Archie finished and began wheezing, the cup was held out to him again.

  Why not, Archie thought, taking it and downing another dreg. In a battle of fire, he hoped the rum to win over the silver.

  His insides felt raw, as if the shining dust had scraped every bit of him, from his nostrils down to his belly. He looked down into the cup. If the small bits of silver floating around in the ale were any indication, he had ingested his share of the plunder. That thought sent Caesar to his mind, and he would have sprung up from the cot if it weren’t for Harper’s steady hands pushing him back down to sit.

  “Caesar’s in chains down in the hold, so there’s no need to rise yet. He’s not going anywhere.” His friend’s steady gaze was comforting. A wry smile painted Harper’s lips. “Though, you might want to know that the Indians are refusing to stay down there with him, so they’ve taken to wandering about the ship. I can’t say as I blame ’em. Even if I was dead, I wouldn’t stay near him.” The smile turned grim, and Harper settled on a wooden stool by the cot. Then, as if he decided he’d thought enough about Caesar, the expression left and he asked, “So, how are you feeling?”

  “Not well.” The sounds coming out of Archie’s throat sounded raspy at best. Movement caught his eye. The young woman who first had come with the cup of rum had retreated to the corner of the room. At the sound of his voice, she looked undecided, as if she were wondering whether to offer him the cup again or to stay where she stood. Even though she was thin from being starved on the merchant ship, and her clothes hung in tatters, Archie’s first impression was that she was beautiful. Long, black hair framed a face with strong, high cheekbones and a sharp chin, and then swirled like silk to her waist. Her large, almond-shaped eyes regarded him warily, not as if she was frightened, but rather wondering what he was thinking.

  “She’s stayed with you ever since I clobbered Caesar with the oar. I can’t get her to leave, she’s stubborn. Seems to think she needs to return the favor for saving her,” Harper mumbled under his breath, as if he were afraid the young woman would understand him.

  The young woman turned her attention from him and scowled at Harper, giving Archie the impression that she had understood something of his words, but Harper was oblivious of her hard stare, and had turned his thoughts elsewhere. “Smee says he wants to see you in the surgery whenever you’ve a mind to come down. He says he’s too busy to come and give his report.”

  Nice of him to come and check on me, Archie thought, rolling his eyes.

  Harper lifted one shoulder in a shrug and grinned. “He checked on you at first and said you’d live. Then Collins was wailing that the hole in his arm had gone rotten and he’s been in the surgery ever since.”

  Archie opened his mouth to speak, but the burning in his throat kept him from it. He eyed the cup in the woman’s hands. The rum wasn’t helping matters, but there wasn’t anything else to be had. His gaze landed on his barrel of wine in the corner of the room. He detested the idea that sprang into his mind next. If he were to open the cask now, the only thing he would find inside would be grape juice. The open air might ruin its chance of turning to wine and his investment would be lost, but it was possible that the liquid would soothe his throat so that he would at least be able to speak to his crew.

  He picked up his empty tankard from the table beside the cot, handed it to Harper, and then motioned toward the barrel.

  “Are you certain?” Harper asked, hand poised over the cork. At Archie’s solemn nod, he pulled it free and the room was filled with the fruity smell of grapes.

  The taste, however, didn’t match the sweet smell. Archie forced the juice down, attempting to ignore the rotten aftertaste on his tongue, and concentrated on the soothing sensation it left down his throat.

  “Much better.” His voice was still hoarse, but sounded better, even to his own ears. He glanced up at Harper, who finished securing the cork back in the barrel. “Are we still on course?”

  “Aye, heading with the trade winds toward the Carolinas. If luck stays with us, we’ll catch up with the Anne yet.”

  Archie nodded, and then stood up. Finding himself more stable than he expected, he said, “I suppose I shouldn’t make Mr. Smee wait any longer.”

  The woman took a couple of steps toward him, as if she planned to accompany him. “No, you should stay here,” he told her, motioning to the stool where Harper sat earlier. “I will be back presently.” When she sat, he turned to Harper. “Come on, let’s go.”

  The sight of him will haunt my dreams forever, Archie decided a few moments later. Smee stood in the middle of the room in a blood covered apron, holding an arm that he had just chopped off. The appendage flopped forward at the elbow, as if greeting the two newcomers to the surgery.

  Archie’s stomach grumbled, threatening to push the grape juice back up. Unaware that his captain was ready to heave up the contents of his belly, Smee sat th
e arm down in a bucket and wiped his hands on the end of his apron, smearing even more blood about.

  Archie tried not to pay attention to the arm, whose hand looked as if it were waving at him from the corner of the room, and decided to look at the previous owner of the appendage who lay moaning on a cot.

  “Ach, Collins might make it. He caught a hook in his hand, put a good sized hole in it,” Smee said, working the apron around his fingernails in an attempt to clean out the dried blood.

  “Just his hand? You appear to have taken his entire arm,” Archie said, pointing out the obvious culprit as it waved from its bucket.

  “Putrefaction set in.” Smee sounded the part of the surgeon, though he didn’t look it, Archie decided. He wondered if the putrefaction Smee referred to was gangrene, but he didn’t ask for fear of finding out even more that he didn’t want to know.

  “Harper says you have a report?”

  “Aye, three men dead from the battle, not countin’ Moreau and those on the longboat. One lad missing an eye, and Collins there, an arm, though his be from the hook, not cannon or musket shot. I wanted ye to know, so that when we reach port, they receive their part according to the code.”

  “Code? What code?” Archie asked, puzzled.

  “The pirate code.” Smee glowered as he picked up a thin, leather bound book and thrust it at Archie. “No one breaks the pirate code.”

  That’s the second time I’ve heard that in the space of a few hours, Archie thought, opening the book. Whatever this code was, it seemed the only thing the pirates respected. He read the heading. “The Articles of Blackbeard, concerning all those souls aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge and all other ships under his watch…”

  “The Articles are the code,” Harper said, looking around his shoulder at the book.

  “Yes, so I gather,” Archie mumbled, staring at the book. Then he began to read aloud.