by otis duane
“I’ll take it from here,” he said, slapping his first mate on the back.
“Aye captain,” the older man replied, relinquishing his command of the fodder squad.
“You boys ready?” Darcy shouted over to the newbies.
“Aye-aye captain!” they spiritedly shouted back in unison.
With exploding timbers still raining down all around them, Darcy stood up and pointedly directed his sword to a group of sailors to his right and shouted, “Grapplers! Ready your hooks!”
Turning his head toward his sharpshooters, he yelled out, “Cover fire!”
Immediately, they too bound to their feet and shot a deadly volley of rifle fire across the corsairs’ deck, cutting down several pirates, dead in their tracks.
As Darcy’s men reloaded, another pirate charged toward them, raising his pistol up but the captain was quicker on the draw. Shooting him in his Adam’s apple, the corsair was propelled backwards, where he hit the deck and writhed about, holding onto his throat.
~*~
“Grapplers up!” Darcy shouted to his team.
Hopping up to their feet, they began to swing their large treble hooks overhead, like lassos.
“Now!” he commanded, and his men flung their rusty iron hooks into the air, across the watery divide.
Landing them on the pirate ship’s deck, they hurriedly dragged them across its wooden planks as their barbed ends eerily screeched like fingernails scratching across a chalkboard.
Snagging their hooks onto anything they could, the grapplers pulled and heaved, drawing the two ships closer together.
~*~
When they were within an arm’s length of the slave galley, the Lexington grapplers tied off their lines. By then, though, the pendulum of battle had swung back over to the pirates, who had regrouped, and were launching their own counterattack.
From out of the lingering smoke cloud, a handful of corsairs rushed up to their own railing and opened fire on the royal sailors.
The first to be hit was a grappler, who was struck in the shoulder and knocked backwards onto the deck.
Another sailor wasn’t so lucky, and took a musket ball to the neck, lacerating his jugular. Dropping to his knees, blood streamed out between his fingers as he desperately tried to cover up his wound. Mercifully, he bled out quickly and lost consciousness before he tumbled over and passed.
~*~
“Cut those lines!” Captain Gliv ordered, pointing to a few of his men nearby.
Immediately, a handful of his pirates began feverishly hacking away at the grapplers’ ropes with their swords and hatchets.
Severing through half of the Lexington’s tethering lines, Darcy shouted out a countering order.
“Sharpshooters!”
Seconds later, a round of shots echoed across the deck, striking down the pirates where they stood.
Undeterred, Gliv pointed to a couple of his other men.
“You, and you there. Cut us loose. Now!”
By then the hazy cloud of spent gunpowder was obscuring the Barbary ship’s deck, making it almost impossible for Darcy’s men to target them. The corsairs were only a couple of grappling ropes away from freedom when Darcy decided to take the fight to their ship.
“Boarding party up! Draw your swords!” he boisterously spouted.
Swinging his own sword over his shoulder, he pointed it at Gliv and yelled out.
“Charge!”
“AHHHH!” his fodder squad thunderously replied as they bound over the watery divide and landed on the pirate ship’s deck.
~*~
With his heart pounding and mind racing, Seaman Jansen stood up and limped over to the Lexington’s railing. He was shaking with terrifying thoughts of his own demise as he watched his fellow newbies gather around their captain. Within moments, he’d face the reality of fighting for his life in hand-to-hand combat, and given his injury there was a very good chance he’d be maimed or killed.
Standing now atop the railing, taking a deep breath, he gathered his nerves and leapt into the air.
Landing on the slave galley’s railing, teetering on his heels, he cried out, “Whoa! Whoa! No!” and then lost his footing and fell over backwards.
Splashing down into the water below, he soon resurfaced and spat out a mouthful of seawater.
“Mother of Mercy!” he shouted, as a surge of hot pain shot up his injured leg. The saltwater seeping into his wound felt like a hot branding iron plunging into his calf.
Fortunately, he was able to grab a hold of a nearby grappling rope, trailing in the water, and painstakingly began to climb his way back up to the railing.
With no time to waste, an exhausted Jansen knew he had to get into the battle. Otherwise if the corsairs didn’t kill him, his comrades surely would for going AWOL on them.
~*~
Meanwhile, his greenhorn fodder squad was facing off against two dozen of the pirate savages. These Barbary corsairs were truly a terrifying enemy as they stood shoulder to shoulder, pounding their bare chests to the haunting beat of their war drum. Armed to the teeth with curved swords, axes, and musket pistols, they were waiting for the order to attack.
Towering above them all was Hussein Gliv, who pointed his crooked finger at Captain Darcy and contemptuously sneered at him.
“I’ll have your ears for this… ATTACK!” he screamed out to his horde.
In turn, his pirates opened fire on Darcy’s men with their flintlocks; striking down a couple of the sailors.
“Follow me!” Darcy cried out, rushing the pirates with his pistols blazing.
Soon the deck was filled with the sounds of clanging of swords and hatchets.
~*~
Cutting down a couple of pirates with his cutlass, Captain Darcy blindly moved deeper into the hazy cloud, when suddenly, a corsair, wielding a battle axe above his head, charged straight at him.
“Arrrgh!” he cried out, mightily chopping down at the captain. But Darcy lunged to his side, narrowly dodging his steely blade as it came slamming down into the decking beside him.
Furiously working his embedded ax back and forth to free it loose, the corsair then began to lift it up when the captain lurched forward and stabbed his sword deep into his chest. Swiftly withdrawing his blade, the pirate looked down to see blood spurting out of his own wound and laughed at the captain.
“That all you got?” the cutthroat tauntingly asked him, rearing back his ax, yet again.
Cocking back his sword, William was about to chop the corsair’s legs out from underneath him when another pirate tackled him from behind and rode him down into the deck. Wrapping his arm around the stunned captain’s throat, he rolled over with Darcy in his clutches, exposing his chest and underbelly for attack.
“Kill him, Adnon!” yelled the pirate, tightening his choke hold on the captain.
“Die pig!” screamed out the ax wielding corsair, rearing back his blade as Darcy’s eyes grew wide.
Chopping down on him, the captain kicked and rolled over at the last second as the corsair slammed his ax down, sinking his blade into his comrade’s back.
“What’ve you done?” cried out his attacker.
Freeing himself from the dead man’s hands, Darcy swiftly spun around and drove his boot heel into the side of the ax-wielding pirate’s knee, sending him tumbling over.
Pouncing on top of the corsair, the captain reared back his fist to punch him when the pirate’s eyes rolled back into his head. Gurgling up blood, it appeared as though the man’s chest wound had finally caught up with him.
Lowering his fist, the captain shoved off the dying pirate and let nature take its course.
Standing back up in the hazy cloud of gun smoke, he looked around for his men when another pirate bumped into his side.
Pivoting around, Darcy head-butted the lanky man in his face, breaking his nose, as a gush of blood poured out of the pirate’s nostrils. Dropping his sword, the captain quickly jumped behind the pirate and wrapped his arm around his n
eck.
Holding him in a python-like choke hold, Darcy pulled a dagger from his own belt and whispered into his ear, “Die you scum.” Rearing back his hand, he thrust it forward, to impale him in the kidney, when a Lexington sailor seized ahold of his wrist.
“Stop! He’s one of us!”
Looking over at the intervening sailor, it took the captain a moment to process what he was saying.
“Captain, let him go!”
Loosening his chokehold on him, the young greenhorn gasped for air and dropped down to his knees where he spat out a mouthful of blood. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t realized the sailor was one of his own. Looking down at him, the captain was reminded of how chaotic and unpredictable combat could be.
Grabbing the greenhorn underneath his armpit, he picked him up and said to the other sailor, “Get him back to the Lexington.”
~*~
A few feet away, a corsair took a foolhardy swipe at Joshua with his curved sword but the old man ducked to one side and blocked the pirate’s blade with his own sword.
Standing upright again, Joshua swiftly kneed the cutthroat in his groin, sending him hunched over and gasping for air. Raising the butt of his own sword up, Joshua sharply struck it down onto the back of the corsair’s head. Collapsing to the deck, the pirate was out cold before he even hit the planks.
Raising his boot up, Joshua stomped his heel down on both of the pirate’s hands, breaking them, to ensure he wouldn’t soon rejoin the fight.
~*~
Meanwhile, walking through the smoky fog, Darcy saw scores of his greenhorns strewn about the deck. The fodder squad’s dead and injured were quickly mounting up as the hand-to-hand fighting raged on. Even though both sides had sustained heavy casualties, it was clear the corsairs were gaining the upper hand over the young sailors.
Seeing the tide of battle slipping away from him, Captain Darcy began making his way back to the Lexington to call in the second boarding party. Otherwise, they were going to lose this fight.
Jogging through the hazy cloud of smoke with his sword out in front of him, he tripped over a sailor’s body and slammed his forehead down on the hardened deck. Lifting his head up, he felt the swollen lump above his brow and grimaced some. Dizzily looking around, he tried to get back up to his feet but stumbled over to one side. Shaking his cloudy head, he tried to gather himself, when, from out of the smoke, Captain Gliv appeared and menacingly stared him down.
The Barbary pirate’s chest and face were covered in splatters of blood as he palmed a bloodied cannon ball in one of his bear-sized hands. Pointing at Darcy, a sinister smile broke across his face.
“Time to die,” he said coldly.
Raising the iron ball high over his head, he strode toward the captain with murder in his eyes, and let out a spine tingling battle cry.
“Arrrhhhhh!”
Closing the distance, Gliv was only a few steps away from bludgeoning the captain to death when Seaman Jansen unknowingly stepped backwards and into his path. Unable to break his stride, the monstrous Captain Gliv caught his foot on the back of Jansen’s injured calf and tumbled down onto the deck.
“Mother of Mercy!” Jansen cried out in sheer agony as he hopped around on one leg.
“You little rat!” an enraged Gliv shouted as swept Jansen’s leg out from underneath him.
Hitting the deck, the giant captain jumped on him and held him down by his throat as he slowly raised up his cannonball.
“I’m gonna wear your ears,” he said with a sneer.
Shrieking out in horror, Jansen squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting his inevitable demise, when Gliv unexpectedly slammed the cannonball down right next to his temple.
Fluttering his eyes open, the young sailor gasped out, “What?”
Teetering back and forth over him was Gliv’s headless body before it came crashing down and knocked the air out of him. Standing behind the fallen giant, with his sword’s blade dripping with the captain’s blood, was Joshua Burnham.
Squirming, and now hyperventilating, the seaman hurriedly weaseled out from underneath Gliv’s body.
“Cup your hands over your mouth,” Burnham told him, kneeling down beside him.
The boy complied and soon managed to get his breathing under control as Joshua went to the aid of a still-woozy Captain Darcy.
Helping him back up to his feet, the old man struggled to keep him upright.
“Give me some help here, sonny,” he said to Jansen.
The young sailor, limping over to them, slung one of Darcy’s arms around his own neck and together they shuffled him back over to the Lexington.
“Second boarding party, on your feet!” Burnham barked out when they reached the railing.
The awaiting group of veteran sailors were itching to join the fight and jumped up with their swords and guns at the ready.
“Charge!” one of them screamed out as the rest of them stormed over the railing with him.
In seconds they disappeared into the dense cloud of smoke as the sounds of clashing swords and gunfire rang out yet again across the pirate deck.
“Give ’em hell boys…” Darcy mumbled under his breath.
Chapter 10 - The Gypsy Queen Skull
Eighth Century BC ~ Mount Olympus ~ Ancient Greece
“I hope your journey was a good one,” the man next to the Koi pond said with a friendly smile.
Zelia Dorian stood silently looking at him. She was taken aback by how healthy, youthful, and oddly ordinary he seemed. He was of average height, olive-skinned, and had medium length, flowing white hair. The only thing peculiar about him, as with everything in the temple, was the ethereal glow emanating from him. His head and face were especially radiant.
“Welcome. I am Apollo, son of Zeus and Leto,” he said almost matter-of-factly.
It was enough to shake Zelia out of her temporary paralysis. It’s not every day one meets a god. Collapsing down to one knee, she bowed her head.
“The Sun God,” she nervously blurted out.
Nodding, he kindly replied, “No need child, please,” and helped her back up to her feet.
“I’ve heard so many of the old stories of you,” she said, relaxing some.
“I see. I hope they’re all good,” he replied with a warm smile.
Still taken by his presence, Zelia fumbled through her words.
“They are. Or were... Your home is beautiful... Remarkable, actually. But where have you been? And where are the other gods?” she asked, looking around.
Apollo nodded and surveyed the grounds as well.
“Sadly, I’m afraid I’m the only one left. The others departed long ago.”
Zelia was now more curious than nervous.
“Why?”
Apollo let out a heavy sigh.
“Because no one believes in us anymore, my dear.”
Muenster, sitting on his shoulder now, squawked and Apollo soothed him with a scratch on his back.
What he had said was true. People no longer prayed to the gods.
“The Age of Gods is over. It’s man’s time now,” he added.
Zelia closed her eyes and solemnly nodded.
“This is why I’ve brought you here,” he said and she perked up some.
“I’ve lived on many worlds, in many different times, but this one is especially dear to me. I will miss the people of Earth, but with your help my legacy will continue on.”
“What is it you want me to do?”
“The Age of Enlightenment is on the horizon. I want you to be my earthly consul to mankind.”
“I see. But I’m just a simple witch. What could I do?”
Apollo stepped in closer and embraced her hand.
“Come sit with me, child,” he said and led her over to a nearby bench. His mere touch was reassuring and his presence invigorating.
Tossing a few more grains of meal into the pond, Apollo amusingly grinned and said, “I’ll never get over this simple pleasure.”
Turning his atte
ntion back to her, he continued.
“I have watched your family evolve for hundreds of years. Though once misguided by the darkness, they eventually chose the light, and you have been especially virtuous and driven by your empathy for mankind. You have a pure heart, and desire the best for people… I need someone such as you to help guide my children through the next stage of their humanity.”
Looking into his kind eyes, Zelia was extremely flattered but wasn’t certain she was up to the task.
“What would you like me to do, exactly?”
“You will build a temple and call it Delphi. There you’ll serve as its oracle and your title will be Pythia, meaning priestess, and your family will be known as the Pythian tribe, who tend to Delphi.
You and your future kin will use your mystical intuition to give advice to the people. You’ll also use your Dorian magic to heal all those who seek you out. People from all walks of life will be your audience. To help you with your mission, I’ve constructed what is unbreakable and eternal.”
Reaching inside a nearby cedar box, Apollo removed a clear crystalline skull from it. Handing it over to her, she noticed it was unusually heavy and about the size of a real human one.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a tool to help you.”
“What does it do?”
“Nothing yet. But soon it’ll be able to move objects from one place to another and allow one to see into the future and the past... That is, when the skull feels the Pythia needs to.”
Zelia arched her eyebrows. She was intrigued.
“You’ll use it to help keep harmony among my people and among the nations. It’ll be helpful in guiding man to his truth and excellence.”
“So how does it work?”
“You will be the first keeper bonded to the skull. Then, later in life, it’ll let you know when it’s time to mentor your eldest daughter to become its caretaker. She in turn will be bonded to the skull and carry on your work. She’ll keep the same tradition with her firstborn daughter, and so on.”
Zelia nodded her head as Apollo continued to explain how to activate the skull and how to focus her mind to use it.
