by Ryan Gilbert
She was holding a pistol in long, spindly fingers, aiming it right at his head. He could see dark bags under her eyes, almost like she had not slept for days. The hair on her head was frizzled, bits of gray starting to show at the roots. White scars crisscrossed the middle-aged arms that held the shaking firearm.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” said Riggs, trying to calm the woman.
“How can I know that you’re telling the truth? How can I know that any of you are telling the truth?”
“If ye’d let me explain…”
“There’s no explaining when it comes to pirates,” she said, forcing Riggs a step backward.
Riggs was astonished. How could she possibly know he was a pirate?
“How did you…”
“… know you were a pirate? I saw you yesterday when you first stepped into this shop… you and that… that heathen. I heard every bit of what you said to my daughter. I’ve dealt with my fair share of pirates in my lifetime. Don’t think I can’t tell one when I see one.”
“Look, miss… I just want to know where Anderson Owens is. I’ll be on me way and I’ll never bother ye again.”
Ms. Stephenson stopped and lowered the pistol a small bit. It almost seemed like Riggs was getting through to her.
“You’re looking for Owens?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
For a second, Riggs tried to think of something that would not serve to agitate the woman. He had no idea how she would react if he mentioned treasure. She did not seem mentally well.
“Let’s just say that his past is about to catch up to ‘im.”
The woman wavered, obviously not wanting to put down the gun. Riggs could see the hatred in her eyes for his kind.
“You promise that I will never have to see your face in this store again?”
“Aye.”
The woman took a deep breath, contemplating what to do. Riggs could almost sense a weight being lifted from her shoulders as she finally started to tell him what she knew.
“I don’t care what you do to him, but if it’s for something he did as a pirate, I know he deserves it. He’s a caulker down at the docks. Now get out of my store,” she said, jabbing the pistol at Riggs.
“Thank ye, m’ lady,” he said, slowly leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
After a deep sigh of relief, the Captain walked back into the store. Ripper was showing Maggie his various weapons. She seemed fascinated by them, even though she could not see them.
“Sorry to intrude, Maggie, but me and my friend ‘ere need to be headin’ out. We’ve got some business to take care of with Mr. Owens.”
“Oh… d-do tell him I said hello.”
“I’ll be sure to,” Riggs said, patting his gun so that Ripper would know to have his ready, “If we get called away for any reason, I’d like ye to know that it was a pleasure knowin’ ye, Ms. Stephenson.”
“L-likewise, Riggs,” she said with a curtsy.
Riggs and Ripper let themselves out of the store and into the now-bustling streets. They wanted to find Owens as fast as possible. If he had been keeping a secret all these years since Kidd’s death, then maybe a little persuasion could lighten the load.
The pirates weaved through the crowded streets, quickly heading down to the docks. To Riggs’ surprise, nobody really reacted to Ripper. It came as a relief, especially given what had happened earlier. He had thought that people would take more notice, but people were simply walking past without saying a word. Maybe the tall, muscle-bound, Jamaican man was just that intimidating.
Once they arrived at the docks, they were surprised that not as many people were there as they would have thought. There were dock hands, but not many sailors. Every once in a while, they would have to scoot past some merchants haggling over prices, but that only happened once or twice.
As they roamed the docks, Riggs kept an eye out for anybody who looked like a middle-aged pirate and talked like one. It was not that hard to do. Most of the dock hands were stuck speaking proper English. When the Captain heard the voice, he knew that they had found their man.
“Oi, get yer filthy hands out o’ me lunch. That’s all the food I got today.”
As Riggs strode toward the speaker, he had no doubt that this man had been a pirate. He had a bushy beard, crumbs still accumulating in the hair. He stunk like a dead rat and looked even worse. There was a limp in his walk as he dropped his caulking irons and mallet to the ground and sat down on a bench.
“Anderson Owens?” asked Riggs as they strode closer to the man.
“Who wants te know?” the man responded gruffly.
Ripper stepped in front of the man, his shadow covering Owens entirely. The caulker froze, almost at a loss for words.
“De Captain be speakin’ to ya. Ye’ll be smart ta show ‘im some respect.”
Owens threw his hands in the air, saying, “What do ye want from me? I’m just a caulker… nothing more.”
Riggs hunched his back so that he could look Owens straight in the eye.
“You and I both know yer not just a caulker… Able,” Riggs said with a grin.
In that moment, Able Owens’ eyes looked as if they were going to bulge out of his head. It was like he was watching his past finally catching up to him. In a panic, Owens tried to stand up and run away, but Ripper grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him back into his seat. After coming this far, the two pirates were not going to let Owens run away that easily.
“Sit down and shut up, mate,” said Riggs, “Ye don’t want to get in trouble with the law again, now do ye?”
Owens glowered at Riggs, his eyes shifting back and forth to make sure no soldiers were near.
“Am I to understand that yer a pirate?” Owens asked the Captain.
“Aye, same as you are.”
“Not anymore,” said Owens with a hateful glare.
Riggs laughed and said, “Once a pirate, always a pirate. There’s no goin’ back.”
“A man can at least try,” said Owens.
“Tell that to your dead captain then, Able. He tried to get away from piracy, but look where it got ‘im… a cage hangin’ above the River Thames for all to see.”
Owens looked down at his feet, mumbling something.
“What did you say?” asked Riggs.
“I said he didn’t deserve that kind o’ death,” Owens nearly shouted.
“If he didn’t deserve his death, then why did ye rat him out to Coote?”
Once the last word left Riggs’ mouth, he was looking into the eyes of an angry man. Owens looked like he wanted to rip the pirate’s head from his shoulders.
“Ye think I ratted out Kidd? Ye really think that? I was tryin’ to get Coote to let ‘im go, and the only way he’d do that was if I told ‘im about the treasure.”
“Only you didn’t tell him everythin’, now did ye?” Riggs guessed. He knew the mind of a pirate. If there was something of value involved, they would never tell the whole story, leaving some details for themselves.
With an audible huff, Owens reluctantly nodded his head.
“He broke our bargain… imprisoned my captain… and forced me to stay at this rotten job. The pay’s barely enough to live on. Guess it’s their way o’ keeping me from getting in trouble.”
Looking past the two pirates in front of him and observing the ripples in the waves, Owens said, “I just want to get out on the open seas again.”
Thinking quickly, Riggs said, “What if we can help ye with that?”
Immediately, Owens gave the pirate captain a skeptical look. Chuckling, he seemed to calm down, taking a bite of his lunch.
“There’s no way ye can help me, lad. I’m not the spry young-un that I was a decade ago. Piracy doesn’t mix well wit’ me anymore.”
Owens rolled up the leg of his pants to reveal a grossly discolored bulge right above his ankle. It looked as big as a man’s fist. No wonder he had been limping around the docks earlier.
“
That’s what I received for me troubles. Coote and his crony Hunter gave me this as a parting gift. It ain’t healed since.”
“I take it ye want to get back at them for that,” said Riggs, taking a sip of rum from his flask.
Seeing the flask, Owens held out his hand as a silent request for some alcohol. Riggs acquiesced and gave him the flask, letting him have a quick gulp.
“Ah, that tasted just like ol’ times… and yes, I want to make those buggers pay for what they’ve done to me and my kind,” said Owens, disdain dripping from his voice.
“If that’s really what ye want, then let’s make sure they never find the rest of that treasure. Tell me where it is and we’ll keep Kidd’s legacy alive.”
To Riggs’ surprise, Owens started to laugh. None of the other dock hands paid any attention to the caulker’s outburst, but passing merchants could not help but stare in displeasure.
Wiping water from his eyes, Owens said, “Intriguing offer… if I knew where the treasure was.”
“What?” asked Riggs.
“I never said I knew where the treasure was. I just knew there was more treasure.”
Riggs grabbed the man by his collar, but Owens did not stop laughing.
“How could you not know where the bloody treasure is?”
“If ye know this much about Kidd, then use the map. It’ll tell ye where it is.”
Fed up with Owens, Riggs dropped him to his knees, beckoning Ripper to leave him. They already knew about the map. They did not need to waste any more time with a sorry excuse for a pirate.
As Riggs turned to leave, Owens said, “If yer lookin’ to take my captain’s treasure, then ye should know something rather important.”
Not bothering to face Able Owens, Riggs asked, “And what be that, Mr. Owens?”
“The angel.”
Angel? What kind of nonsense was Owens spewing? Riggs had never heard of angels, except for brief moments of listening to his captives praying to their god.
Owens continued, “It’s the one thing that’s always absent in the stories ye hear. There was an angel on board the Adventure Prize, mates. She was the light amidst the darkest of souls, and now, she’s guardin’ that treasure. Best be wary if ye find it.”
With that, the broken pirate sat back down on the bench, glaring at Riggs and Ripper as they walked away. To Riggs, the angel sounded like complete nonsense. Owens sounded like he had gone mad. There was no angel. It was all in the man’s tortured head.
However, what if Owens was telling the truth? What if there really had been an angel sailing with Captain William Kidd? The Red Sky had already encountered Poseidon’s trident, so what made the existence of an angel so farfetched?
Stomping his foot on the wooden boards of the dock, Riggs tried to shut the thought of another magical entity out of his head. He had enough to worry about with just trying to find the treasure. He did not need an angel complicating the situation.
The pirates arrived back at the beach just in time to see Eli passing around a piece of paper. It looked crisp and shiny as the sun shone on it. Whatever it was, everyone else seemed excited to see it.
“What’s that?” Riggs asked.
“That, Captain, is an invitation to a party at Robert Hunter’s mansion… or should I say soon-to-be Governor Hunter’s mansion.”
Riggs could not believe his eyes. This was their ticket to get the map. All they had to do was get to the mansion, disguise themselves as invited guests, find the map, and leave. As he heard the idea in his head, he knew it was going to be much more difficult than that.
“How in the bloody hell did you get this?” asked Riggs, quickly taking a look at the paper before he handed it back to Eli.
“Swiped it from a carriage. I figured we needed it more than they did.”
“Aye… that we do. I’ll come up with a plan after I get some rest,” said Riggs, kneeling down at the embers of a fire.
“I’m afraid none of us have time for that.”
“What?” asked Riggs, confused, “What do you mean?”
“It’s tonight, Captain.”
Rubbing his eyes, Riggs raised his gaze to the horizon. Everything was happening so quickly that he barely had time to catch his breath. Now, with mere hours to prepare, he needed a plan that would both get them the map and keep them all alive.
Riggs turned to Julia and said, “Would ye like to accompany me to this party, love?”
“I would be honored, Riggs,” she said, taking her lover by the hand.
“Glad to hear you say that,” he said as he started to sit down.
Before he could even get to his knees, Julia pulled him forward. It caught him by surprise, forcing him to plant his feet in the sand.
“Julia, what are you doin’?”
With a laugh, the girl asked, “You don’t really expect to walk into a party looking like that, do you? You need to get cleaned up first.”
Rolling his eyes, he replied, “If you insist, sweets…”
With Julia gently tugging at his arm, Riggs turned his attention to the rest of the group, saying, “Listen up, mates. Ripper, you stay with me and Julia. I want the rest of you to head back to the ship. Get it anchored as close to Hunter’s mansion as possible if we need to make a quick getaway.”
“Aye, Captain,” said Clint and Petey.
“Aye,” said Ripper.
The last remaining crewmember was silent.
“Eli?” asked Riggs.
The carpenter fiddled with his pockets, eventually asking, “I’d hate to ask, Riggs, but… um… can I go and take care of something first?”
Riggs shrugged his shoulders.
“Get it done quickly and be back by sundown. We don’t have any time to waste with petty arrangements.”
With a quick nod of the head, Eli thanked his captain and hurried into the woods. Riggs did not care what it was that his crewmate had to do. Eli’s business was his own, and nobody else should be worrying about it. So long as he did not interfere with the plan, there would be no trouble.
Julia led Riggs down to the water’s edge, stepping into the ocean water with him. As he removed his shirt and let the cool water hit his bare chest, he tried to relax, even just a little bit.
For all he knew, his next moment of rest might not come for days. Groggily, he started to sing, the words coming to him after weeks of mysteries and tiresome pirating.
“Give me the sea;
Give me the wind.
Give me a ship
To plunder the land.
Steal and lie;
Steal and lie;
There are no rules,
But you will not die.
Raise the skull and crossbones;
Bring fear into a man’s soul.
Shoot and loot, steal his gold;
Send him down to the depths below.
Following the path of a legend
To bring us all past his bitter end.
His treasure is ours,
That much is sure.
Underneath the waves?
Hidden on the shore?
We will be the ones to find it,
And there is nothing that can stop it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Riggs, Ripper, and Julia sat hidden in the trees, waiting for a carriage to roll down the path. The dirt that had covered the pirates’ skin was now gone, courtesy of the quick bath in the seawater. Riggs and Ripper barely knew what to make of the new feeling. They could not even remember the last time that they had been clean. For Julia, it was simply a reminder of her life in her parents’ mansion. If their plan was going to work, they needed to take someone else’s place. They just needed to find that unfortunate someone.
Luckily for the pirates, a carriage appeared at the end of the path after only a few minutes. The lanterns stuck out in the black night, casting ever-changing shadows through the branches of the woods. Taking a deep breath, Riggs stepped out into the path as the carriage drew nearer.
“Whoa,” s
houted the coachman, yanking back on the reins.
The horses came to a stop just inches from Riggs, the warm air from their nostrils spraying his face.
“What’s your problem, lad? We’re in a hurry,” the coachman yelled.
*click*
“Not anymore yer not,” said Riggs, motioning with the barrel of his gun to step down from the carriage. The man needed little persuasion.
“What is taking so long? Why are we not moving?” asked a woman’s voice from inside the carriage.
“Yer makin’ an unscheduled stop,” said Ripper, scaring the woman half to death as he tore open the door.
Her husband tried to attack Ripper, but the Jamaican just yanked him out into the street. When he was hanging in the air by his shirt several inches above the ground, the man knew fighting back was hopeless.
“What do you want from us?” the pitiful man cried.
“We have money. Take what you want and leave,” the woman shrieked.
Gathering the three captives just beyond the tree line, Riggs said, “We don’t want your money. It’s the clothes and carriage that we need.”
“Our clothes? Are you barbaric?” the woman cried, clutching her dress.
“Barbarians, no. Pirates, yes. Now give us the clothes and nobody gets hurt.”
After a couple minutes, the three pirates were on their way to the party, newly stolen garb adorning their bodies. Riggs’ normally scraggly hair was combed back, falling over the pristine suit jacket that he had acquired. Julia now wore a ball gown as golden as the treasure that they sought. Her brown hair curled down past her neck, draping over her bare shoulder. One would never think that someone so delicate could be as fierce as a pirate.
“I almost feel like I’m back in Yorktown, heading to a ball with my father,” she said.
“Did ye go to ‘em often?” asked Riggs, pulling gloves over his hands.
“I’ve gone enough times to know that you need to change how you’re speaking,” she said, warning him about his accent.
“Sorry. Did you go to them often?” he asked again, this time a bit slower and more deliberate.