by Peter Greene
The others laughed a bit, remembering the tales of the crew of the Danielle when it was a French ship of the line. The almost democratic way the ship was managed, allowing all members to have a say in what was done, seemed comical to the strict and rule-ridden life aboard a British sailing vessel.
“I am not sure what they will do, but no matter what, we cannot leave until they do it,” Harrison said. “We had better hope they can’t see the launch, if they haven’t already. The last thing we need is a fight right now.”
“Maybe the Danielle will return early and assist us?” suggested Hicks.
“Possibly, but unlikely,” said Harrison. “They must sail around almost all the islands, with tacking and such. They will be a while yet, at least until the early morning. It would be best if we avoid detection and sleep here through the night. We can take turns watching and if the Danielle arrives in time, we will watch her make short work of them!”
At this point, Jonathan was watching the pirate ship through his glass. He could see that though the ship was dirty and probably ridden with rats and fleas, it deserved better. He remembered how poorly all had considered the condition of the Danielle when she was won in battle and how splendid she shined when Sean and his beautification crew had spent months on her repair. Didn’t this ship deserve the same attention? It was smaller by far than the Dani and just slightly larger than the Paladin and Echo. However, it had graceful lines and stood proud and ready in the water. If he could only have a chance to clean her and add a bit of paint and sail, well, wouldn’t everyone think she was pretty? And that gave him an idea.
“Mr. Harrison?” he asked, “Why wait for the Danielle?”
“Whatever do you mean, Jonathan?” asked Harrison.
“How many men does it actually take to sail a ship like this pirate brig? Not into battle, mind you, just to sail it for a day at the most.”
Harrison thought for a moment. “To sail it how far, Jonathan?”
“Let us say, just to Nassau,” Jonathan said, putting down the telescope and grinning.
“I would say one to man the wheel, at least two in the sails and two more on the ropes to cast off,” Harrison said, now smiling as well. “So that would be five experienced hands.”
“Funny that we have five with us right now,” said Jonathan.
“A-are you suggestin’, Mr. Moore, that we should simply take the ship?” quivered Hicks.
“J-just the f-five of us?” added Hudson, not sure if he liked the idea any more than did Hicks.
“I believe I am!” laughed Jonathan. “And each Royal Marine is worth at least five pirates, don’t you think?”
“As long as the pirates know that, ” added Hudson in reply.
“And I assume you have formulated a plan to get us past the forty pirates aboard?” added Harrison, knowing the answer.
As the stars came out and the wind settled down to a calm, cool breeze, pirate Captain Hiram Petterwick gazed at the island before his ship. It was called Conception, he remembered, and according to some of his crew, there was a great store of rum hidden in one of the caves—over six hundred bottles to be precise. That would certainly fetch a pretty penny and go a long way to pleasing the restless crew aboard the Fiero. His order to wait until the morning before beginning the search was an unpopular one. But as the previous captain had explained, it was no use having the crew drunk at night, when a British warship could sneak up and capture them. Better to wait until morning, find the treasure, then get underway quickly while all were sober.
Petterwick agreed that it was great advice from the previous captain, and he heeded it—right before he mutinied and locked the captain in the brig. Though the Fiero didn’t actually have a brig, per se, chaining the old captain to an overhead beam below deck had the same effect as putting him in a steel-barred cell.
As Petterwick stared at the island, he believed he saw a flicker of light coming from a low hillside. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, maybe not. He raised his telescope once again and waited. After a moment, just when he was about to lower the glass, he saw it again. And this time, it was brighter and did not flicker. It remained on. It had an amber glow. And then a shadow moved in front of it from time to time. A fire?
“Porter!” he shouted. “Get up here with ‘yer glass and take a look at this! Hurry now!”
His mate, Obadiah Porter, appeared after a few moments and lazily took up his glass and searched in the general direction of the island.
”And just what am I a lookin’ fer, Petterwick?” he said.
“It’s Captain Petterwick, you son of a hog! And it’s a fire yer lookin’ fer. Right in the center of the rise!”
Obadiah Porter adjusted his telescope and soon found the fire. He could see someone in front of it. The figure looked to be dancing.
“Looks like a party, Captain,” he said. “And now I see another fire a bit to the left! And there are a few shadows there as well. And they seem to be drinking. Yup. They’s a drinkin’.”
Captain Petterwick strained to see the shadows and their dancing, but his telescope was not as accurate as Obadiah Porter’s. All he could see was the bright fire, flickering in the wind.
“What do ya suppose they are drinking?” asked Petterwick.
“I can’t tell from here, Captain, but it’s straight out of a bottle, I can see that!” said Porter.
Petterwick had a cold feeling wash over him. They were drinking straight out of a bottle? Is it the rum we are coming for?
As he looked again at the island, to his horror, he saw several other fires appear on the hillside and one on the beach right in front of them. A quick scan showed that each had a man or two, swigging from a bottle, dancing and cavorting. Next to some fires, there were men passed out in the sand, probably from too much drink, and all that was visible were their oddly shaped coats. He glared at the closest of the fires, the one on the beach.
“Well I’ll be cursed to coal!” he said, “There a young woman there! She’s drinking from a bottle of rum! Dancing with some short fellow with blond hair! Right on the beach!”
Porter looked to the beach and was aghast at what he saw. He found the young girl easily, and as he focused the glass, he saw her take two full bottles of rum and dump the contents into the fire, sending the flames leaping high into the air.
“She’s mad, I tell ya!” Porter said. “She just emptied two completely perfect bottles of rum onto the fire! It’s a waste, I tell ya! A waste! But, well, it’s not my rum, it’s her own loss, eh?”
Petterwick looked at the scene and again had another cold chill come over him.
“I wonder,” added Porter, “Why, with all these fires goin’ on, there are at least twenty or more souls on that island, all drinkin’ rum like it was going out of style. Where would they get all that rum?”
“You idiot!” exploded Petterwick. “That’s our rum! The rum we came to steal from whoever left it here in the first place! I am sure they think they have beat us to it!”
“What should we do?” asked Porter.
“Get the men up! Let’s get in the boats and sneak up on ‘em! We can certainly take them easily as they have been a-drinkin’ and we have not!”
“A good point, Petterwick!” Porter said.
9
The Ghost at the Gun
From the brush on the beach, Jonathan laughed as he saw Sean, Hudson, Hicks, and Delain running from fire to fire, carrying on as if they had too much to drink and dumping rum in every possible place. Hudson and Hicks certainly had taken their roles as drunken sailors literally and had taken a few generous swallows just to be convincing. Even Mr. Tupper, now feeling almost human again, joined in. It was his idea to stuff a few jackets and blouses with palm fronds and twigs, then top them with coconuts, making a few extra bodies for the ruse.
As the party continued, Harrison joined Jonathan by the bushes next to the beach.
“The launch is ready to go,” Harrison said. “Have they taken the bait?”
<
br /> “Just now, yes!” said Jonathan excitedly. “And none too soon. The sun is just coming up. I can see the purple glow of night changing as we speak.”
It had taken most of the night gathering enough bottles, collecting wood to build the fires, and creating the stuffed sailors to be positioned just so. Now it was time to spring the trap before the sun rose and the trick was foiled.
“I will get Hudson and Hicks,” said Harrison. “You retrieve Delain and Sean and meet us at the launch!”
“Yes, sir!” said Jonathan excitedly, slapping his telescope closed and taking his jacket from a tree that was “wearing” it.
Petterwick had set both boats of the Fiero in the water with almost twenty men in each. That only left two aboard, and the prisoner of course; however, the new pirate captain determined that the more fighters on the island, the better their chances. He and Porter had only guessed at the number of men ashore. It could be twenty, forty—maybe even one hundred. Though all of his men were experienced in fighting and attacking beaches, they were nervous still. A fight was a fight and some may not return. They carried their swords, a few pistols, a dozen or so knives, and certainly a few axes—all brought along for the short trip to the beach. The pirates continued their trip, rowing softly and quietly through the calm water.
Harrison, Hudson, and Hicks pushed the launch into the sea and carefully assisted the others in climbing aboard. Through the pale moonlight they could barely discern the way out of the small bay. But soon, after a bit of sail was added, they were slowly moving into open water, turning towards the pirate ship.
“I see them!” whispered Jonathan, again looking into his telescope. “They are almost to the beach!”
“Then let us make haste and approach the ship from the seaward side,” said Harrison. “I am sure all hands on deck are looking to the island!”
Petterwick was now at the bow of the first jolly boat and was readying himself for the jolt of the boat hitting the sandy beach. His sword was drawn and he heard the others behind him do the same.
“Remember, men, quiet and easy!” he whispered hoarsely. “Sneaky like a cat! They will probably be too drunk to resist!”
The other pirates chuckled to themselves, sure that Petterwick was correct.
The boats hit the beach, making a hushed sighing sound as their wood bows met the sand of the shore. The pirates jumped out. Each ran to his assigned fire, weapons at the ready. They were silent and swift. The pirates fell upon the sleeping forms in the sand, striking with deadly accuracy. They hacked, they stabbed and there was even a pistol shot or two. However, something was wrong.
“Got ya!” yelled Porter as he removed his sword from the head of a sleeping form. There was a coconut stuck to his blade.
“What in the stinking swamp is this?” he said, surprised.
Petterwick pulled his blade from the blouse of his target and saw that no blood was upon his sword. He stood there, stunned, not knowing what was happening. These were not real men.
“By the tricks of Hades, what is going on?” Petterwick called. “These are not men! They be dummies!”
As the two remaining pirate hands stood on deck of the Fiero, watching the jolly boats disappear into the darkness, Jonathan, Harrison, and Sean shimmied up the anchor rope, the hawser, and after much effort, reached the top. They swiftly pulled themselves over the rail and gently stepped on deck. From the launch below, Hudson tossed a rope to Jonathan who quickly fastened it to a cleat nearby, thereby securing the launch to the Fiero. Quite to the surprise of all, Delain made her way up the rope easily and was stunned as the boys looked at her in awe. She shrugged, remaining silent, then lent a hand assisting Hicks and finally Hudson over the rail and onto the deck.
“I am afraid I am too weak to climb!” said Tupper from the launch. “Might I stay here?”
“As you wish, Mr. Tupper,” whispered Harrison. “But if we are unsuccessful, I suggest you release the rope and drift back to the island as quietly as possible.”
“Oh,” said Tupper. “I see, well, you carry on and I will see if I can muster the strength to join you.”
All knew their roles and each moved quickly to their positions. Hudson remained by the hawser, ready to cut the Fiero’s anchor loose with his sword. Hicks gave his sword to Jonathan, then joined Sean and Harrison as they crept to the foremast. There, they began silently climbing the ratlines upward, making their way to the sails and the ropes that held them. With only the three of them to manage the sheets, it would take quite some time, sliding across the beams and letting out the sails on all three masts.
Since Harrison was the only member of the boarding party who had piloted a ship of this size, he was the designated master. After letting down a bit of sail, he ran to the wheel, leaving only Delain and Jonathan to do away with the two hands of the Fiero.
As always, Jonathan had a plan in mind and explained it to Delain, who was more than delighted to be part of the “cutting out” of the ship, as the boys had called this small adventure.
Silently, she crept up to the men looking at the island and waited for Jonathan to get into position just to the side, behind a pile of broken barrels and other debris left on deck. Delain bent her head down almost to the floor and removed the ribbons and ties from her hair. She then shook her damp locks, ran her fingers through them just so and quickly brought her head upwards. This flinging of her hair, combined with the dampness in the air, held her golden strands out straight and puffy. It was as if she had been windblown most of the day, which of course, she had. After loosening her small jacket, Delain held her arms up in the air and began rolling her head about in a strange fashion, like she was possessed by a spirit. Into the failing light of the moon she drifted. Even to Jonathan, she appeared beautiful, yet haunting and almost unreal. A golden ghost! He stifled a laugh.
“They ‘ave been gone a long time!” said one of the pirates. “I wonder if they’re already looking for the rum.”
“Better them than me, mate, I can tell ya that right now. Let them do the dirty work and let us take the easy duty, eh?” said the other one.
“Right on that, mate. Safe and sound, I always say!”
After a moment of silence, a voice, deep and airy, cut through the air.
“Ayeee aaaaam aay loossst ssspreeerit!”
The two pirates paused for a second, then turned to each other.
“Was that you?” asked the first one.
“I thought it was you,” said the second.
They both turned slowly, the hairs on the backs of their necks standing on end. They beheld the ghost from the mist. They were shocked into silence, shaking in their shoes. Her hair blew in the wind and she gyrated as if containing horror and evil.
“Ayeee cooome from theee deaaad too speeek to those abooout to leeeave thee liiiiving!”
“W-what do you say, spirit? We are about to leave the living?” said the first pirate as he shook and quivered in fear.
Creeping out from behind the barrels, Jonathan slowly made his way to stand behind the pirates. As he looked at Delain, a shiver ran down his back. As convincing she actually appeared, he needed to remind himself that she really was not a ghost. Raising his sword, he was now serious with his duty. It seemed wrong to strike these men down without warning, without giving them a chance to defend themselves. Yet, he had to think of the mission. If these two were not put down, then they could spoil the plan and even worse, harm himself or his friends—even Delain. He gritted his teeth and raised Hick’s sword over his head.
Just then, another voice joined the conversation, this one from far off.
“Dwayne! Barnus! It’s a trick! A trick!”
It was the voice of Petterwick, coming from the shore. As all looked in the direction of the island, the sun was now seen glowing in the east and two jolly boats could easily be seen making their way back to the Fiero.
“A trick?” said the first pirate.
“That’s what he said, Dwayne!” said the second.
“Stop them!” yelled Petterwick from the first boat. “Stop them before they take the ship!”
The pirate now known as Dwayne turned back to Delain and muttered under his breath.
“Wait a minute! Yer not a ghost, are ya?”
“In the sunlight, she looks more like . . . a little girl!” exclaimed Barnus, the second pirate.
As if to answer, Delain kicked Dwayne in the nose. As Barnus drew his sword, Jonathan rapped him on the head with the hilt of his blade, sending the pirate to the rail, writhing in pain.
“Where did you come from?” demanded Barnus as he held his bloody nose.
“The streets of London!” said Jonathan, and with that, he shoved Barnus over the rail. He turned quickly and held his blade to Dwayne’s neck. “It is your choice, but you better make up your mind before I count to three—”
Dwayne did not wait for the count. He immediately jumped over the rail, landing in the water below with a great splash.
“They are on to us!” yelled Jonathan.
“Let out the sail! Slip the anchor!” yelled Harrison.
The sun now broke over the horizon and from the jolly boats, Petterwick and his crew could see the soiled sails of the Fiero drop slowly and unevenly, then fill slightly with the wind. A chopping sound was heard and he looked to see a Royal Marine hacking at the hawser.
“It’s the British! They are stealing our ship! Faster men! Row faster!” called Petterwick, and the men began rowing with amazing fury. They were gaining on the Fiero, as it seemed to have trouble getting underway. Even when Hudson had finished cleaving the rope that held the anchor, the Fiero dawdled and barely moved.
“There is no wind!” called Harrison. “Hicks! Flagon! Let out more sail! Hudson, help them!”
With great speed and agility, the two marines and Sean climbed the mainmast and hurried to let out as much sail as they could. The sun was now up completely, making it clear that the pirates were less than a hundred yards away.
