Blackbeard's Revenge (Voyages Of Queen Anne's Revenge Book 2)

by Jeremy McLean

  Christina and Nassir were at the front, holding each other, and Herbert was holding Christina's hand. Nassir dried his eyes, but Christina still wept for her significant other.

  "We, as a crew, as a family, must fulfil their dreams, we must take care of their family, and we must fix what they regret, so they may rest peacefully." Edward stared intently at the crew. "Do you accept these responsibilities?" The crew responded with "Aye." Many of them had been part of the crew from the beginning and remembered a similar eulogy from Edward. "With your acceptance, these three will surely be able to rest peacefully."

  Edward nodded to the crew stationed at the sides of the ship. Before lowering the boat, the Mayan Pukuh placed corn and a piece of jade in their mouths. Afterwards, he uttered a short prayer to his gods to tell them of the men's arrival. The corn was food for the journey, and the jade was the price of passage. The men lost their lives in combat, considered a sacrifice, and would be allowed into heaven in honour, according to Pukuh's beliefs.

  The crew lowered the small boat into the water and threw in a torch. The bodies burned as others in the crew fired muskets into the air. Three shots and the service was done, but the fire lingered on.

  The pain lingered on.

  …

  Over the seven weeks of travel to NiTalaa the morale of the crew was at an all-time low. Jack did his best to bring cheer with music, to no effect. The trip felt longer with the sombre and melancholic mood over the crew.

  Ochi and Christina were but children, and to have them ripped apart was unbearable for the crew, but even worse to watch was the slow deterioration of Nassir. He spent every waking moment immersed in work on the ship. He worked alone, fixing as much as he could and restoring the ship to pre-battle condition. Through his constant work he took little sleep and as the weeks passed he developed bags under his eyes, and lost a dangerous amount of weight.

  Christina did not have the benefit of a job to lose herself in, so she spent most of her days either sleeping or in the bow cabin weeping over Ochi's body. Anne and Herbert tried their best, but Christina was inconsolable.

  Herbert too was troubled deeply by the loss, and by his inability to do anything to help his sister. Herbert had cultivated a great friendship with Nassir and Ochi through the past year, and the two were like family to him. He did not allow himself to feel grief, only empathy and sorrow over his sister's condition.

  One day during the journey, Edward entered the bow cabin, mainly used for weapons storage, to pay his personal respects to Ochi. The small cabin was the only suitable location for Ochi to rest on the journey to Nassir's homeland.

  Three cannons stood at the front of the curved cabin, and barrels of muskets on the sides. Spare hammocks for accommodations were also swinging in the air. On a pedestal of boxes, Ochi's wrapped body lay.

  In front of the pedestal, Edward saw Pukuh kneeling down in silence. The noise of the door roused Pukuh and he turned to greet Edward with tears in his eyes.

  "I'm sorry, Pukuh, I will return later."

  "No, brother, stay. The dead should be mourned together."

  Edward sat down beside Pukuh, a bottle of rum in his hands. He poured a little out on the floorboards of the Freedom and took a drink from the bottle. Edward muttered his own silent prayer, despite his not knowing anything about God, and then sat beside Pukuh in silence.

  Edward stared at the wrapped body in front of him. The cloth was damp with decay, and the smell surrounding the body was foul and stung Edward's nose causing his eyes to water. Edward hadn't seen a body like this before.

  The dead should not be kept in such a way. I wish we had another option, but I have to respect Nassir's wishes.

  After a few moments, Pukuh broke the silence. "A father should never lose a son in such a way."

  "Mmm," Edward mumbled in agreement. "If I was stronger I could have stopped them from dying." His gazed was fixed on the ground.

  "Where death is concerned, strength has no part. All men die, this is fact. You say right when you say to Nassir his son chose to fight. The only choice we as men and women have is where we choose to lay our life on the line. Losing our lives in battle is tragic, but honourable. Ochi did what he could, and nothing more. You are the same. Trust in me, I felt the same before."

  Edward contemplated Pukuh's words, then took another drink of the rum. "Thank you Pukuh." Edward left the room. Thank you, but you're wrong, Pukuh. I will become stronger, and I will stop my family from dying. No matter the cost.

  …

  When the Freedom reached NiTalaa, at the port of Calabar, the crew departed with Nassir to bury Ochi. Another service was held on the outskirts of town where the graves were marked with crosses made of tree branches. The crew took turns digging the grave in the hot overbearing sun.

  Having no work to tend to his grief, and no exhausted sleep to take him away, Nassir mourned for his son once more. After the Calabar service, the crew left Nassir, Christina and Herbert alone at the graveside. The crew waited for hours at the dock before the three returned. Nassir wanted to talk with Edward, as did Christina. Edward spoke with Nassir first in the bow cabin.

  The faint smell of decay lingered in the air, lending an eerie feeling in the small room. Nassir was haggard and tired. His usually well-groomed appearance was overtaken by stubble on his head and face. His well-rounded cheeks were hollow and his form diminished, the opposite to Edward's recovery from his stay in prison.

  "I am staying in Calabar, Captain. I need to… think over things."

  Edward opened his mouth to say something out of his gut reaction, but then simply nodded his head. "I understand. We'll call this a temporary leave to allow you rest. You will be returning, yes?"

  "I will say maybe."

  "We will return after a few months and see how you are feeling, how does that sound?"

  Nassir nodded to Edward's suggestion and left the room, preparing to say his goodbyes to the crew. Edward followed and made the announcement. The crew became depressed but sympathetic for Nassir, and wanted to have a feast before he left, but Nassir declined. The ship set sail before night fell, the crew watching and waving to Nassir as he became smaller the more the ship floated away. Eventually, Nassir was no longer visible, and many in the crew felt they would not see him again.

  Herbert and Christina stayed on the Freedom, and after their departure, Edward finally had his audience with Christina. Once more in the room filled with the faint smell of the dead taunting the recent victims of catastrophe with the sickening essence.

  The beautiful girl was finally past the shock of the recent events, but was still visibly affected. Christina's strawberry-blond hair was dishevelled and her normally sparkling blue eyes were dark and bloodshot. Her frame was small and at the point of breaking standing before Edward.

  "What did you want to talk to me about, Christina?"

  "I want to be taught how to fight."

  Edward could have expected a lot of things, but not this. "No," he said simply.

  The young girl was on the verge of tears from frustration. "Why not?" Her mouth curled into a tight frown as her lip quivered.

  Edward turned away from Christina; her grief-stricken face was too much to bear. How she had changed from the days when she and Ochi played on the ship. "Because I cannot risk losing you. Think about Herbert. What would he do if you were lost to him?"

  "I am thinking of Herbert!" Christina shouted and anger seeped into her words instead of sadness. "Who else will protect him against those awful marines? I am the only one who has the right!" she yelled in her ire.

  Edward heard the anger in Christina's voice, saw the rage in her sky-blue eyes. She reminded him of his love from his hometown of Badabos before he met Anne, Lucy. Edward could never say no to those eyes. Christina was breaking him. "There is more to what you are saying than you're telling me. If I am to approve this, I want to know the real reason you want to fight so much. I know why, but I want to hear this from you."

  Christina cross
ed her arms. "I want revenge. I will make those bastards pay for what they've done. I want to make our enemies fear me the same as you."

  Edward nodded, extending his hand. "I want the same."

  Christina shook his hand, and the deal was struck.

  10. The Bermuda Gateway

  Two tragedies in a row took its toll on the crew's minds and many were fatigued. The loss of the crew members and Nassir leaving lowered morale, but time healed old wounds first. Mourning was over, and the crew learned to cope with the loss.

  Edward felt a distraction was in order, so on their way to the Caribbean he decided now was the time to solve the next riddle. Most of the Freedom was locked by keys left scattered about by Benjamin. After each successive door was opened, another clue was found inside the room for the next key. The game Benjamin left, while trying, difficult, and sometimes deadly, was intriguing to all in the crew, especially Edward.

  The remaining sections locked were a door on the berth deck, and two on the gun deck, one on the bow and one on the stern. The locked door on the stern gundeck was assumed to be the captain's cabin, but the others were a mystery.

  Edward stood on the quarterdeck, leaning against the wooden planks at the stern. From his pocket, he retrieved the letter he reclaimed from the warden of Gammond prison. The simple white print was adorned with a golden wax seal of a classic hunting horn, the sign of Benjamin Hornigold. Edward touched the simple but elegant design before breaking the seal and opening the letter. The letter read as follows:

  The Devil's Triangle

  25° and Three Shots in the Dark

  The Limey's Parallel Lights the Way

  Edward pondered on the letter. The Devil's Triangle sounds familiar, and twenty-five degrees could mean latitude, but three shots in the dark is a mystery and the final line is nonsense.

  "Herbert, what do you make of this?" Edward asked, handing him the paper.

  Herbert set a wooden pole in the spokes of the wheel to stop it from moving while he examined the paper. Herbert adjusted his glasses and moved some hair behind his ear during his review.

  "The Devil's Triangle is most certainly the Bermuda Triangle, an area between Bermuda, Puerto Rico, and Florida forming a triangle. The twenty-five degrees is a latitude point, and I imagine the three shots in the dark could mean cannon shots, or maybe gunshots. I'm not sure about the last line, though."

  Edward took the paper back, reviewing it with cocked brow while stroking his beard. "Adjust our heading now, we will unravel the mystery of the last line on the way. Benjamin may have us on a fool's errand, but he was no fool. Whatever the last line means, it is of some import." Edward addressed the crew while Herbert adjusted the course. "Everyone, please move to the waist." Once the crew gathered, Edward explained. "As you all know, there are several locked sections of the ship, and we're searching for the keys." He held up the paper. "This next clue will lead us to a key, but we are having some trouble deciphering the final line." Edward read the line out to them. "Any ideas?"

  Sam immediately spoke. "A Limey is slang fer British marines. 'Cause they bring limes aboard their ships."

  "Good Sam, good. So what is the parallel of the British?"

  "The French?" "Indians?" "Jews?"

  Edward held up his hand to silence the crew. "French is the most logical parallel to English. So what is the light of the French?"

  "The food?" "The language?" "The whores?" "The smell?"

  Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. This is getting nowhere. "Alright, John, Anne, Henry, Sam, please join me in the meeting room. Jack, play us some soothing music please."

  Those addressed replied with an "Aye, Captain!" and went about following the orders. The crew returned to work either swabbing the deck, fixing the trim on the sails, or other menial tasks. Jack pulled out his violin and played some upbeat and warm classical melodies.

  With the relaxing sounds of music, ocean water lapping against the ship, and salty air blowing around the Freedom, the crew were settling into a better mood.

  Edward and the ones he'd named headed to the cabin below the quarterdeck. Edward commanded the anchor to be dropped and Herbert to join them. Herbert climbed down and entered the war room with everyone else.

  The cabin was lavishly decorated with a chandelier above Edward's head and red velvet carpet below his feet. On the sides of the room bookshelves held dozens of nautical books and a bevy of fiction to choose from. Windows at the back let in light and were augmented by oil lamps. Decorations of paintings, swords, and pistols were scattered about on the walls. In the middle of the room stood an oval table with expensive chairs front to back, and one ornate high-backed chair at the back in the middle.

  Edward sat in the gold-trimmed, high-backed chair, and read the clue aloud. Afterwards, he ensured each one had a chance to examine the paper. "Herbert says the Devil's Triangle is another name for the Bermuda Triangle." At the mention of the Bermuda Triangle, Sam visibly tensed. "The twenty-five degrees relates to the latitude inside the triangle we need to be, and the three shots in the dark are assumed to be cannon shots."

  Sam couldn't hold back any longer. "Captain, ye don't mean ta head ta the Triangle, do ye?"

  "Yes, Sam, travelling to the Triangle was implied."

  "The Triangle be dangerous. Horrible things happen to sailors travelling there," Sam claimed, uncharacteristically fearful.

  "Well, with the name Devil's Triangle, I assumed…" Edward said with a smirk. "So, anyone have any ideas?" Edward tried to change the subject to something he considered more pressing.

  The group offered suggestions on what they assumed the French light could mean, with the most logical suggestion being made by John. He supposed the parallel could be the Grand Royal Coat of Arms of France, but how that would light the way was beyond the group. After some time of deliberation, they decided to take a break and play a game of cards.

  Edward, not one with much experience in games of chance, but a quick learner, put up a good fight. Sam was caught cheating and laughed it off. Anne and Henry had some playful banter and competed more against each other than the rest of the group. Herbert and John were by far the biggest winners, and Herbert was surprisingly competitive.

  In the middle of the game, the door to the cabin opened and a gust of wind rushed in, the air of the sea invading the air of the old books and burning oil lanterns. The wind caused the paper and the cards to fly off the table. The group were trying to catch the cards when their eyes caught the clue flying away to the open door. They all lunged for the paper at once, but it escaped their grasp and flew to the door.

  Christina was at the door, and she caught the paper before it flew off. She was wearing loose-fitting pantaloons ending five inches below her knees, a loose white tunic, and a leather vest overtop with the rose pendant showing. Her hair was tied into a ponytail, and she appeared decidedly better than a few days prior.

  Christina peeked at the paper as she approached the table. Everyone was still piled on top of one another. "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "Trying to catch that, thank you," Edward said as he took the paper back and folded it into his pocket.

  Christina laughed as she circled behind Edward's seat. "Was that the riddle for another key?"

  "Yes, and, as we've yet to find the solution, losing the paper would be devastating."

  "You know, I'm really good at riddles. Would I be allowed to look?" Christina asked with a sweet grin.

  Edward eyed Herbert, and Herbert nodded. "Alright, do you need to see the paper again?" Edward asked, reaching for his pocket.

  "You mean this paper?" Christina was holding the riddle in her hands. She smiled coyly at Edward.

  Edward smiled back at Christina's deviousness, and also at her happiness. Edward was glad to see Christina in good spirits.

  Christina read the riddle over again as Edward explained what they figured out so far. Christina took a few seconds, then her face lit up. "What if Limey's Parallel means lemons?"

&nb
sp; "Lemons?" Edward inquired, incredulous.

  "Yes, parallel means side by side and lemons and limes go well together."

  Edward, not wanting to dismiss Christina's suggestion outright, tried to reason with her and lead her to the conclusion herself. "So how would a lemon light the way?"

  Christina touched the rose around her neck as she thought. "Ah, I know how! Don't move!" she instructed, and without any explanation she ran out of the cabin.

  Anne and company peered at Edward in wonderment, almost asking him if he knew what was going on. Edward shrugged his shoulders and sat down. After a minute, Christina returned with a knife and a lemon.

  Using the knife, Christina sliced a lemon open, threw one half into Edward's hand, and squeezed out the juice of the other half. Christina used her finger to wet the paper with the lemon juice. This piqued curiosity, so the others shifted closer to watch. Christina wet the whole of the paper with juice.

  At first nothing happened, but after a moment the lemon juice penetrated the thicker stock paper and dots appeared on the paper. Soon, the whole paper was covered in small dots.

  Edward picked up the paper. "Amazing! How did you know lemon juice would do this?"

  Christina grinned at his adulation. "Well, I didn't. I read in an adventure book once about an ink which goes hidden after being written and the only thing that can bring the writing back is lemon juice. The scene stuck with me because of the ingenuity."

  Edward laughed. "Maybe we need you to join us in more of these meetings." Christina smiled again even more widely. "Now let us see the familial combination in action. What do you make of this?" Edward handed the paper to Herbert.

  Herbert too carried his joy on his face, delighted his sister was happy again. He scrutinised the paper at different angles to better see the dots. On the page, three circles surrounded specific dots, with a line connecting them in a triangle. In the corner, a time—one a.m.—was written in the mystery ink.