by Ryan Gilbert
“No, I… I don’t need help. Thank you though, Captain.”
With uneasy balance, the fairy stumbled away, making her way down to the lower decks so she could rest. Riggs could tell that the magic had taken an impressive amount of strength from her. If she needed rest that badly, then he could certainly give it to her.
With the seas gradually getting calmer, Riggs looked out over the ocean. He raised his eyes to the moon as it appeared from behind the dispersing storm clouds. He knew that the tidal wave was sent by someone. Jones thought that it was not Every, but Riggs knew that it had to be. What other enemy of the pirates had magic that powerful?
It had to be Every.
Now he knew that he had to destroy the Arch Pirate. It was more important now than it ever had been before. The maniacal King of Pirates would stop at nothing to keep the crew of the Red Sky at bay. If he was not stopped soon, heads would start to roll.
Inside his own head, Riggs could hear a voice saying, “Yes, Captain. Give in to yer bloodlust. You and I both know it’s the only way to defeat ‘im.”
He was torn.
Days later, the Red Sky finally arrived at the coast of Delaware. With Thomas guiding them, the pirates hid the ship where no one could find it, nestled in a tiny cove along the shore. After much deliberation, Riggs, Thomas, Eli, Coral Jack, and Valera decided to go ashore. With Every and his skeleton crew on the loose, the Captain wanted as many crewmembers on his ship as possible. He could not chance letting his enemy sneak attack them.
The four men climbed into the longboat as Valera dove into the water, her legs changing to her purple fin. The pirates rowed with the waves, careful not to tip the boat as they tried to reach a safe place on the shore. One particularly large wave struck the boat, but a quick distribution of weight just barely kept them from capsizing. When the men reached the sandy shore, Valera was waiting for them, the mermaid having easily reached the beach.
“Were you having a little bit of trouble, gentlemen?” she asked with a laugh.
“Ye don’t need to prattle on about it, Val,” said Coral Jack, “It’s not our fault we ain’t got fins.”
The four pirates pulled the longboat further up the beach, just high enough so the tide could not get to it. The mermaid stood watch, making sure that no one would stumble upon them while they were concealing the boat. Laying some large leaves and bits of flotsam over the longboat, they succeeded in hiding it from plain sight. Now it just looked like something that had washed up on shore.
“What’s the plan, Captain?” Eli asked.
“Well, first we’ve got to find a former crewmate of Every’s,” Riggs replied.
“How’re we going to do that?” Eli asked again.
Riggs scratched at his chin. For once, he had no idea what to do. Delaware was entirely new territory for him. He had never even set foot there. In front of him lay no markers for where to go. They could wander for days without finding anything.
Slowly, Riggs’ attention turned to Thomas, whose eyes were carefully searching the area around him. He was the only one in the group who actually knew anything about Delaware.
He needed to be their guide.
Stepping over to his newest crewmate, Riggs asked, “Do ye know where we are, Jones?”
After looking around for a brief couple seconds, Thomas replied, “Actually, yes.”
“Can you lead us to where Dawson is hidin’?”
At that, Thomas chuckled.
“Oh, Captain… if ye think he’s hiding, then prepare to be gravely mistaken.”
“He’s a pirate, mate. How could he not be hidin’?”
Taking his place at the front of the pack, Jones said, “Used to be a pirate. The courts pardoned ‘im… the only member of Every’s crew to be that lucky. Ever since that day, he’s just barely kept it together, drowning his guilt in alcohol and women.”
“Do ye know where he is?” asked Riggs, trying to hurry the conversation along.
With a grin, Jones said, “I have a pretty good idea of it.”
“Then lead us to him. If we find him, then maybe we could find his captain.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Nodding to Riggs, Thomas started to lead the group away from the beach. They had no choice but to follow him. He was the only one who had any idea where to go.
Much to Riggs’ surprise, it only took a small amount of time to actually reach a town. Thomas led them through a couple surprising twists and turns, but it was nothing too extreme. After pulling back some brush, he led them directly onto a road. From where they stood, they could already see the town. It was not that far away.
Turning to his fellow crewmembers, Jones said, “Welcome to Lewes, mates.”
The town reminded Riggs of New York, though a whole lot smaller. The buildings were little, quaint shops and houses, fitting for a port town. The pirates could just barely see the tips of the masts of ships docked at the ports. None of the streets were crowded at all, just the occasional carriage or wagon rolling past. Jovial citizens strolled down the street, either holding their loved ones close or carrying small packages of food. A few people even greeted the strange newcomers with smiles. To Riggs, it seemed like the perfect place for a pirate like Dawson to start a new life.
Laying a hand on Jones’s shoulder, he asked, “Where was it that ye’d met Dawson before?”
“He was at one of these taverns when I met him,” Thomas said, his head turning back and forth, methodically taking in his surroundings.
A bit eager, Riggs said, “Show me which one. If we’re goin’ to get any information out of ‘im, we need to find him now.”
Thomas laughed, saying, “Captain, be patient. We’ve got time.”
“Time for what? Every could be here any second, and…”
Interrupting his captain, Thomas said, “He’ll have just as hard a time finding Dawson as we will. Listen… take time to familiarize yourself with your environment. Make people trust you, and then make your move.”
“We ain’t got time fer that, mate,” said Riggs, trying to hide his frustration, “Ye need to come up with a plan… and fast.”
Jones nodded, beckoning for the rest of the group to follow him. Taking a walk down a side street led the crew to an open field filled with tall grass. Nearby, they could hear animals scampering around, like they were near a farm. When they were far enough away from any buildings, Thomas deviated from the road and started to make his way into the tall grass, insisting that everyone else follow his lead. As the rest of the group waded through the tall grass, Thomas sat down on the ground right next to a large patch of dirt. Once everyone sat down, they were completely hidden from the road and the buildings, the tall grass blocking any view of them. Pressing his finger into the dirt, Thomas started to create a map for the rest of his crewmates to follow along with his plan.
Pointing to the docks that he had just drawn in the dirt, Jones started to explain his plan bit by bit.
“During the day, Dawson is always followed by at least one soldier. After his trial for piracy, he tried to escape on a ship, but failed. Ever since then, there’s always been someone to keep him away from the ports.”
Curious, Riggs asked, “How do you know this?”
Jones laughed, saying, “It’s not like it’s a mystery, Captain. Dawson knows it, and he told me.”
Brushing off the interruption, Thomas continued with his plan, “If we want to get any information from Dawson without getting caught, we need to find him at night. With the ports guarded, nobody has to follow our pirate friend. He’s a free man… in a sense.”
“That’s fine, mate… but where are we goin’ to find ‘im?” asked Riggs, waving his hand over the makeshift map.
It was almost like Thomas was expecting the question. Immediately, he pointed to a section of the map, a section of several boxes drawn in the dirt.
“There are several taverns in that part of town. Dawson always frequents them.”
Chuckling, Riggs said, “T
his Dawson is my kind o’ pirate.”
The Captain’s eyes darted from one end of the map to the other. If he wanted to get around Lewes, then he needed to commit Jones’s map to memory. Something still did not seem right about Thomas Jones. It was a familiar paranoia… one that he had only felt once before.
Right before Marcus Garrett mutinied against him.
As Jones and the rest of Riggs’ friends reclined on the ground, calmly waiting for the sun to fall, the Captain kept going over everything that Jones had said in his head. The man did not seem like a pirate. Eli was a former Navy commander, and yet he still acted like more of a pirate than Jones. Even after nearly every conversation with Jones ran through his mind, Riggs could not find what was causing his uneasiness. His mind wanted to believe his new crewmate, but his gut was forcing him to say otherwise.
After hours of deliberation for Riggs and relaxation for everyone else, the sun fell below the roofs of Lewes, staying just above the horizon as the pirates willed themselves to their feet.
Stretching out the kinks in his back, Coral Jack asked, “What does this bloke look like?”
“Don’t rightly know now,” was Jones’s response, “Last I saw of ‘im was some years ago. A lot o’ things can change.”
“Just tell us what he looked like,” ordered Riggs.
For a second, Jones seemed surprised at his captain, but the look disappeared from his face. It was almost too quick for Riggs to even notice.
“He had brown hair and brown eyes, about as tall as you and I, Captain. When I met him, he had a scruff that covered parts of his face, but it was rather uneven. He’s a fella that still has most of his teeth… if he ain’t gotten into any fights recently. Can’t really give much more detail.”
Riggs nodded, relenting. He turned to his other crewmates, ready to give them instructions.
“In order to cover more ground, we’re goin’ to split up. Coral Jack, Valera… you two will head to one tavern. Eli… you’ll go to another. Me and Thomas will take the last one. If you find Dawson, convince ‘im to come along with ye. We need answers and we need ‘em now.”
With the sky split into different shades of red, orange, and yellow, the sun slowly sank closer to the horizon as the crew made their way back into Lewes. Little by little, the group of pirates split apart, each going to their assigned tavern. Each of them had their eyes peeled for anyone who looked like the man that Thomas had described. Coral Jack and Valera stepped inside one of the buildings, the mermaid immediately being greeted with whistles from the other patrons. Eli entered his tavern, careful to not make too much of a ruckus. Riggs and Jones made their way into the tavern that they had chosen, a strong scent of alcohol filling their nostrils once they opened the door.
It brought Riggs’ mind back to Rebelde… or what used to be Rebelde.
Inside the tavern, a hearty band of sailors, presumably all members of one crew, crowded around several tables. A small amount of men sat at the bar, cheerfully drowning the stress of the day. Women roamed the room, patiently waiting on the men as their cups ran low. There was a sense of order in the room, something to which Riggs was not accustomed.
It made him feel even more uneasy.
Tapping his captain on the shoulder, Thomas said, “I’m going to find out if any of these gents know anything about our friend’s whereabouts.”
Riggs nodded, saying, “Aye, you do that. I’m goin’ to get a drink.”
Thomas did not even react much to what Riggs had said. He seemed lost in his own little world. The Captain shrugged, stepping over to the bar and resting his arms against it.
“What’ll it be, sir?” asked the elderly bartender.
After taking a quick glance around, Riggs asked, “Ye got rum, mate?”
“Ah, so you like your drinks strong, now don’t you?” the man asked, filling a glass with rum.
Laughing a little, Riggs said, “Wouldn’t really know… hasn’t hit me in a long time.”
The two men chuckled, immediately lowering the tension between the pirate and the bartender. It helped to set Riggs’ mind at ease for a little bit of time.
As the Captain took a large gulp of the drink, the bartender asked, “So where are you from? Can’t say I’ve seen you around town before.”
With a grin, Riggs set the glass down on the edge of the bar.
“Well… I certainly ain’t from around here. I’ve been to so many places I don’t even know where I started.”
Picking up a dirty glass and cleaning it, the bartender said, “Sounds like quite the story.”
Riggs raised the rum-filled glass to his lips, took a swig, and said, “I’ve been raised on a ship for most o’ me life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“So you’re a sailor then?”
“Captain, actually.”
“Well I’ll be damned… so was I. What vessel?”
Having to think quickly, Riggs replied, “The Angel.”
“Sounds like an elegant ship, Captain…”
“Striker,” said Riggs, extending his hand to the old man, “Robert Striker.”
“It’s a pleasure, Captain Striker,” the bartender responded with a disarming and calming smile.
Riggs took another gulp of the rum, finishing the drink. After a nod from the Captain, the bartender filled the glass once more.
“Now, I seem to recall ye sayin’ that you were the captain of a ship as well. What be the name o’ that vessel, I wonder?” asked the pirate, trying to seem like just a normal sailor.
Almost instinctively, the bartender straightened his posture, proudly saying, “Captained a ship called the Ellie May for seventeen years, I did. Mighty fine ship too. Always reliable for an old chap like me.”
“What happened to it?” asked Riggs. Surely, something had to have gone awry or the old man would not be behind the bar of a tavern.
With a sigh, the man said, “On our last voyage, a hurricane set upon the ship. Blasted thing appeared out of nowhere. It was like a nightmare. Only a handful of my crew survived, but the ship was still able to sail for a little while longer. It floated above the surface just long enough for me and my men to be rescued. Then it sank… and I never saw it again.”
Taking the bottle of rum from the bartender, Riggs poured some of it into a glass and handed it to the old man. He took it eagerly and with a kind smile.
The pirate raised his glass and said, “To our ships.”
“To our ships,” the old man repeated, clinking his glass with Riggs’.
The two downed their rum in a single gulp, two generations of captains sharing a drink. Even though they came from separate sides of the law, Riggs felt calm, calmer than he would have ever expected to be in a new place like Lewes.
Setting his glass down, Riggs looked over at Thomas to see how he was progressing. He needed to know if his crewmate had gathered any information. From what he could see, his new crewmember was still trying to get the group of men to talk. The pirates needed information, and they needed it soon.
Riggs took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. Once he asked the question, he knew there was no way to predict the old man’s reaction.
“So… from one captain to another… what would be a good place to pick up a crew around here?” Riggs asked, trying to change the course of the conversation.
The bartender chuckled, coughing a little from the rum.
“A crew? In this town, you’d be lucky to find someone who doesn’t already have a job.”
“Are you sure, mate?”
“Positively, Captain Striker.”
“Heh, that’s strange,” said Riggs, playing dumb, “The man I spoke to mentioned several people who could be good, hardworkin’ sailors.”
Straightening the sleeves of his shirt, the old man asked, “What were the names? I could help you find them.”
“Let’s see. There was Stewart Brown, Roger Cook. I think there was a Howard thrown in there somewhere,” said Riggs, “Then he mentioned a
Joseph Dawson…”
“Stop right there!” the old man interrupted in a stern voice, “Whoever told you that that man would be a worthy member of your crew was a lying bastard. Dawson is barely even worthy of being alive, let alone being a part of a crew again.”
“Again? What do ye mean?” Riggs asked, feigning ignorance.
With a youthful fire in his eyes, the bartender said, “That man used to serve under the dreadful Henry Every, the so-called King of Pirates. He is a guilty scoundrel with more blood on his hands than everyone in this town.”
Propping his elbow on the bar and resting his chin in his hand, Riggs said, “Ye don’t say. How is he still free?”
“Damned courts,” was all the man would say.
Riggs could feel the disdain for Dawson seeping through the air. Clearly, nobody in Lewes wanted anything to do with him. If they felt anything toward him, it was definitely hostility and distrust.
Leaning further over the bar, Riggs whispered, “The man sounds like quite the bother.”
The old man nodded, his hands shaking with hatred as he tried to scrub a glass.
“Give me the right headin’ and I’ll get ‘im out o’ your hair,” Riggs said in a quiet voice, just loud enough for the bartender to hear him.
At that, the old man stopped his scrubbing. He gave the Captain a sideways glance and set the glass down.
“I’m not one to condemn a man to death, Captain Striker, but if you could make Joseph Dawson disappear from these peoples’ lives forever, then I’m sure we would all be indebted to you.”
Giving the old man a smug grin, Riggs said, “I’d be honored to.”
The old man leaned against the backside of the bar, trying to make it look like he was not talking to Riggs. If someone had heard them conspiring to kill a man, then both Riggs and the bartender would have been in serious trouble. Neither of them could afford that.
“Once you leave this tavern, turn left down the road. Follow that road until you see a small building with red and brown bricks. Dawson lives on the second floor… always frightening the poor owners when he comes back from a night of drinking.”