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

by Jeremy McLean

  "Under the bed," William said.

  Anne read the letter, and William could tell something was wrong. He motioned for the two crewmen to leave the room and the three slipped out. William closed the door behind them and they went back up the spiral stairs.

  "What was that about? What did the letter say?" One crewman asked.

  "Nothing good, that much is assured. We shall find out soon enough. For now, gather the crew and tell them to stop searching, we are done here." William instructed.

  The crewmen did as instructed and soon the crews of both Freedom and Fortune, save those watching the cannons and wagons, were in the main hall of Kenneth Locke's castle.

  Christina, Tala, and Pukuh approached William, who was guarding the staircase. "Where's Anne? Why are we still here?"

  "Anne is below." William motioned behind him. "We found a letter, Anne is reading it now."

  "What did this letter say?" Pukuh asked.

  "I don't know," William replied.

  "Then why are we standing here? Let's find out what it said." Christina tried to walk down the stairs, but William stopped her, causing Tala to growl at him.

  William glared at Tala, and the wolf hung her head in submission. "She is not to be disturbed."

  "We are wasting time here, brother. Was not our goal to find the captain? Our captain is not here, thus we must be elsewhere."

  "I think what Pukuh means is move, William." Christina once again tried to push her way past, more aggressively this time.

  William pushed her back. Soon after, an argument erupted amongst the crew who were anxious to leave. William tried his best to calm the crew, but the noise rose louder by the minute, and all communication was breaking down.

  Because of the noise, none noticed Anne walking up the steps. When she returned to the main hall, the arguments stopped and all eyes were on her. She gazed at all the hopeful eyes of the people inspired and loved by Edward.

  Anne's eyes were red, and she looked tired. "John and…" Anne placed her hand on her mouth, then shook her head and continued. "John and Edward are dead," she stated solemnly, listlessly lifting the letter.

  The room quieted. The cold wind from the Irish hills filled the castle, howling hauntingly and sending chills down everyone's backs.

  "No!" Christina yelled. "There's no way they could die." She screamed, her eyes closed tightly to shut away the forming tears. Her hand was balled into a fist around the rose hanging from her neck, Ochi's memento.

  Anne's mouth made a straight line as she stared at Christina with pity in her eyes. "Read for yourself." Anne shoved the letter into Christina's hands then left, wading through the throngs of crewmen gathered as Christina read the letter out loud.

  "This is Sam," Christina started, glancing up to the onlookers. "I hope you find this before that bastard comes back. I tried to help John and the captain escape, but I failed. John and Edward saved my life, and sacrificed their own for me. Kenneth killed them. I'm sorry, I've failed you all, but I'll make it right. I swear I'll kill the ugly sod if it's the last thing I do. If I don't see you again, tell Anne I'm sorry." Christina's hands fell, the letter dropping from her fingers.

  The faces of hundreds were filled with melancholy. As the reality of what had happened dawned on those gathered, they realised exactly what the words from Sam meant. Edward, their captain, their brother, was no more. They would not hear him laugh again, they would not be inspired by his words and deeds again, and they would no longer take comfort in his presence. And John, the father some never had, would never express uplifting words to his sons, nor make people laugh with his timid nature, nor watch their backs in battle. And Sam was lost in a den of wolves on a suicide mission, blaming himself for what happened.

  Christina shook her head like she was awaking from a dream. Her eyes focused and she ran outside to where Anne stood, the crew following slowly after. "There may still be hope, Anne. There are no bodies here, how do we know they truly died?"

  Anne shook her head, pulled the girl closer, and hugged her tightly. They embraced for a moment before Anne spoke. "Sam would not lie to us. He saw John and Edward die," Anne whispered bluntly into Christina's ear.

  Christina pushed away from Anne, the tears she tried to hold back rushing down her face. "Then what do we do now? What are we to do without Edward?"

  "Simple: We kill Kenneth Locke and make him pay for what he did. I won't let Sam take my revenge from me." Anne's words piqued the interest of the crew, and took them away from their depression as they focused on her. "For too long over this past year we've been on the run. Too long we've been on the receiving end of extortion, slavery, lies, secret assassins…" Anne gazed through the crowd, pointing to Nassir and Pukuh, and Christina, as she spoke. "And death." Anne paused, noticing the crowd hanging on her every word.

  "This is the time for revenge." The crew chanted their agreement to her resolve. "Our revenge!" she continued. More of the crew joined in the resonating chant of agreement. "Our comrades' revenge!"

  "This is no longer about Freedom, as when we first left Portugal. We have our Freedom. This is about those whose Freedom was stripped from them long before it should have been." Anne paused before gazing at Nassir. "Ochi." Anne turned to Christina. "John," she continued, peering at other crewmates as she listed off names of those who had died on board the Freedom. "And our captain, Edward. They had their Freedom and lives taken, and, though we cannot restore their lives, we can free their spirits so they may rest in peace. Revenge will be our new charge. Revenge." Anne finished with reverent emphasis on the word.

  Christina lifted her hand in the air. "Revenge!" she yelled for all to hear.

  "Revenge," Pukuh echoed.

  "Revenge," the crews chanted one after the other and then in unison until the whole room was filled with the sound of their voices. The mantra renewed the crew's hope, and bestowed new purpose to drive them forward.

  "Our first order of business," Anne stated when it quieted. "Destroy this castle."

  The crew yelled their agreement in furious abandon, rushing out of the castle and to the armaments they brought. The cannons were lined up and aimed at the fortress.

  "Fire!" Anne yelled, followed soon after by William down their long line of men. Bartholomew and Hank continued the command soon after their counterparts, and the cannons fired in succession.

  The sound of each cannon blared like a volcano erupting in sequence. The thunder was ear-splitting and terrified the creatures of the wood, as well as the humans from the town.

  The cannonballs smashed into the hewn rock and cut stone, sending pieces flying in all directions. Wave after wave of cannon fire broke into the walls, demolishing the castle bit by bit.

  Before long the job was done, and the remnants of the castle were nothing more than a pile of rubble. The first part of their revenge was complete, and the crew returned to Youghal.

  The townspeople were waiting. From their faces, Anne could tell they knew what had happened, but some townsfolk decided to see the wreckage for themselves. None talked to the crew as they passed through the streets to the harbour.

  Anne held her head high and didn't glance at the mayor or the nearby gawkers. Her focus was on moving forward.

  First we will need to resupply, then wait for Kenneth Locke to return. However, one of the townsfolk could send word. Threats of violence should suffice. I may not have Edward's eyes, but I have something close. The mayor was easily dominated, so the others should fall in line.

  Anne processed their next steps like a game of chess, keeping a hundred moves ahead of the enemy. So great was her concentration, she did not notice when she arrived back on the ship and accidentally bumped into one of the crewmen on the Freedom.

  "I'm sorry, I was not watching myself," Anne said absent-mindedly and with her head down. She continued walking without waiting for a reply.

  "Anne," the crewman called in a familiar voice.

  Anne spun her head back in the direction of the voice. It cannot
be! She gaped with disbelief at the figure in front of her.

  "Don't worry. It's really me," he reassured her, as if reading Anne's mind.

  Anne burst into tears and leapt into the man's arms. "Edward!" she cried.

  Edward wrapped his arms around Anne tightly and ran his fingers through her long red curls in that familiar way. Edward, too, wept as he took in the full presence of the woman he loved more than anything in the world.

  "I'm finally home."

  33. Benjamin's Game

  The entire town of Youghal was not able to sleep that night due to the raucous partying of the crew of the Freedom and Fortune. The town's reserve of alcohol was drained during the hours between dusk and dawn, and the butcher made a fortune selling his entire stock off to the hungry pirates. Much singing and laughter and rejoicing was had on and off the harbour. Even some of the townsfolk joined in and made friends with the rebels visiting their home.

  On the Freedom, Edward was surrounded by a crowd of people from the two crews. Throughout the night, Edward's cup was continuously refilled and food was never far from his reach thanks to attentive friends.

  Edward was telling the sad story of his capture to all listening, but to them the tale was of their captain, or friend, surviving against all odds. "For three days Kenneth's crew took turns beating me throughout the day and night. I resisted as best I could, all things considered. People were switched out when I broke their arms, legs, or noses. After that frustrated Kenneth enough, I was poisoned from what I could tell. I don't know what the poison was but my insides burned for a whole day."

  "How do you reckon you survived?" Hank Abbot asked, brow raised.

  "Well, the only thing I can think of would be either the poison wasn't meant to kill, or because of the special weed from Pukuh's village," Edward surmised, motioning to the one-armed Mayan.

  "Did the gods appear with some in their hands for you, brother?" Pukuh jested.

  Edward chuckled. "No, over the past months I've been chewing on the leaves. I happen to enjoy the bitter taste, and we had more than enough to go around. Perhaps I gained a defence against poison from eating so much." The company nodded at the explanation. "So after the poison, they decided to up the ante. One night, I was taken to a river a short distance from the castle, Blackwater River. Kenneth and several others shot and stabbed me a dozen times, then Kenneth kicked me into the river and left me for dead. The next thing I remember was the coldness of the water rushing me to the ocean. Somehow, I was seen by a small whaling ship in the early hours of the morning and brought back to Youghal to heal. As you can see, I'm still not quite my old self, but I'm walking again, which I couldn't say a week ago."

  Edward's body was bandaged from head to toe beneath his clothes, and where he wasn't bandaged he was bruised in varying colours and stages of healing. Hank had looked as if he'd crawled from hell when he was recovered, and Edward had suffered worse, so one could only imagine how he looked when the whalers saved him.

  "Those devils will pay for their injustice on you, I so swear," Bartholomew said with his fist clenched.

  The crew joined in with their own curses and promises for revenge against the man who'd killed John and nearly killed their captain.

  "No," Edward said. The crew went silent and confused expressions abounded on their faces. "I'm not saying we won't avenge John, God knows I want to, but we can't wait six months. We have a job to do, and that's acquiring the final key to the Freedom."

  "Edward, we know you've been waiting a long time, and we're so close to the end of the journey we started three years ago, but can't it wait?" Christina asked.

  "No, our priority now and always has been finishing Benjamin's game and restoring full functionality to the ship."

  "The Hounds need to pay for what they've done, partner, it's not solely your crew who've been wronged, but ours as well," Hank said.

  "If you want to break our oath and leave to take out revenge, then you certainly may," Edward replied, slowly standing up from his seat. "But my crew will find another to help us finish this."

  Jack Christian, who would normally be entertaining the crews, stood up and tried to calm Edward. "Edward, let's not say something we may regret now, alright?" The wise older man had a calming nature, but Edward was not swayed.

  "My orders are final. We will be heading to the Island of Heaven and Hell." Edward turned his gaze to Bartholomew. "If your crew still wishes to maintain an alliance with mine then you may join us." Edward stormed off to the upper deck.

  As Edward left, Bartholomew spoke to his crew and calmed them after Edward's harsh words. He was far more understanding and slow to anger than his stature suggested, and he stopped his less patient men from blowing things out of proportion.

  Anne told the crewmates not to worry, and left the crew cabin to follow Edward. He had gone to Alexandre's medical cabin. Before Anne opened the door, Jack stopped her.

  "May I?" he whispered.

  Perhaps Jack is better suited for this. Anne nodded, pulled herself back, and allowed Jack the room. She returned to the lower deck with the crew as Jack entered the cabin.

  When Jack opened and closed the door silently behind him, he could see Edward reaching with a shaky hand into the bag of the Mayan crop. Edward chewed on one of the leaves as he sat on the floor in front of the island table in the middle of the room.

  Jack joined Edward, took a leaf from his hand and chewed. "Not bad."

  The two sat silently as the noises of the party, though muffled, persisted through the walls of the ship from all sides.

  "I keep having this dream," Edward chuckled nervously. "I'm standing in a white room, and uh… John's there. Except it's not John, it's my father." Edward fidgeted and tore at the small leaves absent-mindedly as he talked. "My father talks to me, but I can't understand what he's saying. Then suddenly a red streak appears across his neck, and… I'm holding a knife in my hand." Edward laughed again. "I know what the dream means, it's so painfully obvious, and I know I did not kill John, but that doesn't change the fact that I've had the same dream almost every night for the past month." Edward rubbed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

  Jack took some of the broken leaves from Edward's hand and chewed on them. "Sometimes when I'm walking through the towns we've been to, I see the image of my wife passing by. I've even stopped a few ladies, but once I take a second glance I see the mirage made plain. Kids too. I see my kids, Maximilian and Jessica, running about here and there, playing with a hoop and stick, alive and well.

  "When someone you love is taken from you, it feels as if a piece of yourself is replaced with something… rotten. A sickness of hate which never seems to fade. Sometimes the rot can be healed, one way or the other: over time, talking about what happened, forgiveness and sometimes revenge. The problem is finding out what to do next."

  "What do you think I should do?" Edward asked the older man.

  "I feel only you can know what's best for you, Edward. If you think we should finish the game then that's the best thing to do. Whether that decision is good or bad, your family will help you through."

  Edward turned away from Jack's gaze. After a moment Edward held up his hand in front of him and stared as it shook from the slight bit of strain.

  "Whenever I think of facing Kenneth my body tenses and my heart feels as if it's being held tightly, as if a snake coiled itself around and won't release me."

  "Fear?" Jack asked.

  "Not exactly. I've felt terror before, under the gaze of the man in black I'm sure you've heard about. This is different. I feel powerless to dangers ahead. I feel as if Locke is around the corner, waiting for me to lose concentration, then everyone I love will be dead, or he'll torture me until I no longer have the will to live. Like I'm trying to push down a brick wall, it feels as if I can't stop it from happening." Edward clenched his fist and turned away from Jack. "This is foolish. You lost your wife and kids. My troubles pale in comparison."

  Jack squeezed Edward's hand tightly. "Don'
t ever think that. Your burdens are our burdens, your worry is our worry. It is real and we are here for you. A wise man once told me the worst thing you can do is think you are alone and have no family. You are not alone, and we are your family, remember that."

  "Thank you, Jack," Edward said, wiping away tears before they could fall from his eyes.

  The two men sat, silent at times, listening to the sounds of the crew outside. And, for the first time in the months since his abduction, Edward relaxed.

  When all thoughts of celebration were gone, and the sombre reality finally set in, Edward held a funeral for John. There was no body, so the crew gathered John's belongings and set them in a rowboat.

  John was a man of simple means and simple needs. All his belongings amounted to a few gold pieces, two sets of plain clothes and a spare set of leather boots, a journal, and spectacles.

  Bartholomew delivered a eulogy as the crews watched the boat float away from the Irish shores. A single arrow was set ablaze and fired into the boat to create a funeral pyre.

  Edward stared at the tall fire, the last remnant of a man Edward wished he'd known better. I promise I will find my father, and I will tell him of your bravery. Edward breathed deeply the sea air. Thank you, John. Rest peacefully, you earned it.

  34. Tsunami Vs. Plague

  Thousands of miniscule parts of leaves burned as air was drawn through a pipe. The resulting smoke entered the mouth and lungs of an old man. The old man held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, letting it do its work, before blowing it away to the ether.

  "So, ye see, I simply must do somethin'," the older gentlemen said.

  Across from the old man, a younger one with slick black hair sat on the deck of a ship. He held his hand to his chin and appeared to be deep in thought.

  "Yes, yes, I do see the dilemma. So, let us consider you the ferry captain, and I the passenger. I require passage to a destination, and you require payment to allow passage. What payment would you think suffices to allow me crossing?" The younger man gestured off the bow towards an island that was currently only a dot on the horizon.