Pirates of Savannah: The Complete Trilogy - Colonial Historical Fiction Action Adventure (Pirates of Savannah (Adult Version))

by Tarrin P. Lupo

  Some giggling was heard inside the house and the door flung open as the family rushed out. They embraced the family patriarch and kissed his filthy, bearded face. After the family showed their father the proper attention, they smiled at Patrick. “So glad he did not get you killed Patrick, but I see no swag on you two? I hope you found something of value after being gone that long," Heather stated.

  Archibald grabbed his daughter by the shoulder and escorted her into the house. “We sure did but best not to speak of it here, lass.” Archibald recounted the entire tale while his family listened intently. After many mugs of grog and much boasting, the men went to sleep.

  * * *

  Almost two months had passed and feelings in Savannah were tense. Privately people around town referred to the invasion as Oglethorpe’s "New Folly." Nobody was brave enough to call it that openly of course. The town was bracing for retaliation from the Spanish. Everyone knew something was coming but nobody knew what and when. Ever since they returned to town, the blacksmiths had been very busy making shot and repairing weapons as the nervous town prepared for a retaliatory invasion. Every few nights Archibald would disappear and not tell anyone where he was going.

  The Scottish town of Darien was left in shambles after so many clansmen were killed in the Fort Mose battle. Mr. McIntosh was in negotiations by messenger with Alick and Fort Mose trying to broker a deal for his clansmen's release. He was planning to use his portion of the profits made from future sale of the cannons to buy the prisoners' freedom.

  The time was soon approaching for the Indian's return and Patrick still had no idea how Archibald was going to sell the cannons. Who would be daring enough to buy English cannons? It would be a death sentence to anyone to be caught with cannons in their possession.

  One evening Archibald closed up early and asked Patrick to join him. The two rushed through their dinners and headed out the door. The patriarch demanded his family to shut in and to not answer the door for anyone but him. The two men followed by torchlight to a familiar looking door. Archibald knocked four times, then five and waited. A flash of red flickered in the torch light as the door opened.

  “Welcome to the Red Lady! Enter, you wary men! You look as if you need a bath,” the lady in the red dress motioned.

  “We need to talk business, April,” Archibald said in a serious tone.

  She whispered nervously, “Ah, a bath it is then. Come over here. We have two baths ready and they are still warm. We even offer two kinds of soap gentlemen, all for just two shillings each.”

  The men nodded and went to the private bath area. She had built rooms on to her standard house and now had a building rivaling some of the wealthiest Savannahians. The brothel was very well lit with whale oil lamps and was finely decorated. Patrick assumed this was the upscale whorehouse where the rich came to play.

  Patrick had never had a warm bath and he quickly grew fond of it. Exotic women of all flavors were coming in and out of the area. They brought soaps and sponges. April introduced two exotic women dressed in worldly clothes. “Gentlemen, this is Roxanne, the Persian princess. She is not very fluent in English, but she does speak French and Spanish. And this is our import from Paris, Tiphanie. She does speak English, so ask her if you need anything." April clapped her hands and both women pulled their breasts out of their complicated dresses. The dresses had been modified with flaps so their womanly tools of seduction could be exposed easily. “Enjoy your baths, gentleman. I will be back soon to talk,” April Sky said softly.

  Archibald was uncomfortable with the whole situation and dismissed Roxanne immediately. Patrick, on the other hand was taking full advantage of the French girl. She scrubbed his back, chest, and hair. His erection kept poking its head through the soapy water. “Archibald, how the hell did I not know about this place? And why are we not here every night?" he asked earnestly. "Down lower. Much, much lower, mon amie! ” Patrick instructed with a devilish grin.

  “Well...my wife would run me through if she knew I came down here like this, for one. Also, I didn’t think you had any money since I have not been paying you," Archibald laughed.

  “Well, yes that is true," Patrick conceded before he instructed Tiphanie, "Lower, Lower. Lower down the front."

  “Patrick," Archibald lowered his voice grinning. "You have to pay them more if you want them to scrub down there and I am not paying for that!”

  A naked black woman named Rose came in with a bucket of hot water and added it to the tub. She looked more Caribbean than African, but the excited indenture thought she was stunningly beautiful and did not care. Patrick had never seen a fully nude woman before and could barely breathe. He gawked openly and she smiled back at him. The black beauty bent over in front of him and hung her full flesh bags of temptation for Patrick to admire as she refilled his water. Archibald waved her off and she left giggling as Patrick’s jaw hung slack. When he regained his composure, Patrick stated, “I officially love this place. I know exactly what I am spending my cut of the money on.”

  Archibald grunted, “And I figured you would buy your contract off me and be a free man.”

  Patrick scratched his chin, “Hmmm... That is a tough call. I don’t think I can unsee what I have just seen. I think I will just keep working for you and spend every shilling here from now on!” Patrick's eyes widened as his smile stretched from ear to ear.

  April entered the steamy room and closed the door so they could be left in private. “Well, Archibald," she started, "I did it. I found a buyer for your iron. Two small ketches will be picking them up. I arranged a meeting place on the coast near the spot where you told me. You have to get them to the coast. The buyers will do the rest.”

  “Can you trust them?” Mr. Freeman asked.

  Patrick in the Red Lady whorehouse

  “I can trust them to try and steal them," she confessed. "They're pirates.”

  Archibald queried, “So how can we do this deal?”

  “First, I need you to file all the British markings off the cannons. This captain and I have a history and he wouldn’t dare steal the war iron from me. Will you trust me in handling the gold for the sale?” she smiled.

  “You can broker the deal, but I cannot trust you. After all, my dear, you’re a pirate too,” he returned.

  “You stab a lady in the heart with such venomous words, Scotsman," April snapped back. "So what is our solution?”

  “My indentured will accompany you to make sure this deal stays on the level,” Archibald resolved.

  After a moment of thought, she found this compromise acceptable. “Very well. I would be honored to have this handsome gentleman escort me. In two days meet me here and be ready to sail.” April spit in her hand and held it out. Archibald spit in his hand and reached for hers. He had forgotten he was naked in the tub and stood up to seal the deal. He quickly covered his manhood with his left hand and sat back down. April grinned and sauntered over to Archibald and shook his hand. “We have a deal then. And thanks for the show.” Patrick burst into boisterous laughter as she left. The Scotsman’s face grew bright red with a combination of embarrassment and rage.

  “Rinse off. We're leaving,” the red-face man pouted.

  “No we are not leaving," Patrick challenged. "You can go if you want but I am staying till they throw me out.”

  Archibald barked back, “Fine. But that won’t be long after they find out you have no money in your pockets.” Archibald rinsed the suds off with a few buckets of fresh water and then dried himself with a linen cloth. He put back on his clothes and mumbled, “Great. Now I have to go throw some dirt on me so my wife doesn’t know where I have been all night." The disgruntled Scotsman grumbled then stomped out of the bathroom.

  A few minutes after his boss left, April came back in and smiled at the contented man. A fully naked Rose came back in also and helped the scar-faced man out of the warm tub. She started drying him off, being sure she spent extra time drying his genitals while April smiled. A busty blond woman in a bright yel
low dress burst into the room and April shot her a look.

  “What is this interruption Whoremaster Darden?” April questioned in a stern tone.

  “Sorry to disturb you Madam, but we have a problem. That Sergeant Luthor roughed up Carla and now says that since he is in the military, he does not have to pay. He violently took my girl and is not willing to pay for the privilege,” whoremaster Darden spit.

  April dropped out of her businesslike tone and sounded like a salty sailor. “That arrogant fucker thinks he is going to steal from us just because he is a cock-sucking lobsterback. He is going to pay extra for hurting Carla or I will run him through!” April then hiked her long dress up and unstrapped a large knife hidden on her thigh.

  She stormed out of the room while a naked Rose and Patrick stared at each other, trying to figure out what was going on. A loud crash and a ruckus could be heard outside the door. Muffled cursing could be made out followed by a male scream. After a few more minutes went by, April returned, brandishing a bloody knife and a bag of silver.

  Patrick ignored the knife and instead luxuriated for a few more blissful minutes in Rose’s nakedness. April cleaned her knife and informed him that his time was now up and she needed the room for another guest. Patrick savored every moment of the carnal knowledge he was obtaining. He slowly finished drying off and dressed himself. The French woman then escorted him out of the washroom to the front door. He soaked up all of Tiphanie that he could, admiring her figure until the moment the door was shut. He stood heartbroken outside the door to the palace of magical flesh. “Damn," he muttered to himself. “I am so sick of being poor. We got to sell these cannons quickly.”

  Patrick took in the night air and followed the torchlight home. He saw the night watchman making his rounds, yelling every few minutes about the time, the weather, and all clear. The watchman wanted people of Savannah to slumber, but not too hard. A constant state of vigilance was necessary, especially in the wake of General Oglethorpe's colossal failure of an invasion. “You there!" the watchman barked. "Where are you going and what’s your business?” The inquisition was a sobering reminder that Patrick was not free, not even to enjoy the night air walking home. Having to answer questions anytime to a man in uniform was embarrassing and humbling. Patrick tried to ignore him and kept walking as if he did not hear the watchman's call.

  "Hey! Stop!" the watchman shouted. "Answer me!"

  Because of years of abuse at the hands of prison guards and British soldiers, Patrick had grown extremely resentful of authority. His mind scrambled with angry questions. What if I do not provide an answer and keep walking? What gives him the right to know my personal comings and goings? I am not harming anybody, why am I assumed a criminal? The only reason I answer him, is out of fear, not respect. I know if I ignore him, his pride will be challenged and he will have to exert his authority. Archibald was right; the only power any government has is force. Anytime I come into contact with the king and his men, it is always only one way. They will use threats and then violence until I surrender to their will. I have to answer him or get the butt of his musket smashed into my skull.

  “I am on my way home," Patrick reluctantly announced. "I will be going now.”

  “Not so fast," the watchman commanded. "Who are you and where is your home? Step next to my torch and let me get a good look at your face.”

  The blacksmith refused to move closer but answered his question with a question, “What’s your name? Tell me yours and I will tell you mine, good sir."

  This angered the sentry and he closed the distance quickly. “That’s not how this works," the redcoat angrily barked. "You answer my questions! I don’t answer yours, servant!”

  “Servant?! I thought a man was free here in the new world.” Patrick stood his ground.

  “Where did you get that idea? You are a subject to the king. Never forget your place. He owns you, servant, which means I own you. Now I am not going to ask again, what’s your name, servant!” the redcoat now yelled.

  “I will tell you my name when you treat me with respect and tell me…” with a crack, Patrick fell to his knees holding his bloodied nose.

  “Tell me slave," the bloody back continued. "What’s your name?!”

  “What’s yours?" Patrick spit through a mouth full of blood. "Treat me like an equal and I will tell you.”

  Patrick felt a thump, saw a flash of white pain, and then his world turned black.

  Chapter 13

  Tattooed Women

  and Soulless Men

  The sensation of drowning snapped Patrick back to reality. Ringing flooded Patrick's ears and light was painfully spilling in his eyes. He rolled to his side and began to violently cough up water from his mouth and nose. When his heaving chest began to relax, Patrick's eyes adjusted to the light and to the silhouette of Archibald Freeman. He was shouting questions, "Come on! Wake up, man! Can you see? Do you know who you are?"

  Patrick weakly grumbled, “Archibald? Where am I? What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you what happened," a guard hissed. "You assaulted a member of his Majesty’s army. You need to thank Jesus I was able to subdue you in your drunken state and did not have to kill you." The guard was standing by Archibald, sneering at Patrick. "Your owner and I reached an ‘agreement’ and you are now free to go."

  “Thanks for letting me take him without getting your superiors involved,” Archibald stated humbly as he helped the wobbly Patrick to his feet.

  “You need to talk to your servant about his mouth,” the guard warned. "Those kinds of words are quick to get a man killed around here."

  Archibald nodded and led Patrick away from the guard as quickly as possible. The guard had apparently left Patrick where he fell. He had kicked Patrick off the road until he was out of the way.

  “How did you find me, Archibald?” Patrick asked when they were out of earshot.

  “I went out looking for you when you did not return home for second sleep. I asked the night watchman if he had seen you and he escorted me back to your body lying on the side of the road, but I could not wake you. I had to bribe the soldier to let me fetch you in the morning," Archibald explained. "But what really happened was you owe me ten shillings for the bribe I had to make."

  "I'm sorry Archibald,” Patrick apologized. “I am just so tired of being owned by other people that I boiled over when he started demanding answers of me. I was stupid, not drunk. I told him I was no slave and that he had to talk to me like a gentlemen." Patrick rubbed his woozy head. "The last thing I remember was him smashing my head in with a musket.”

  Archibald laughed, “You're stupid lad, but I respect your dumb courage." As Archibald helped Patrick walk, he continued to explain that working for the king means never having to say you are sorry, that the joy of enforcing arbitrary rules and decrees over another man attracts the worst kind of scum to the job. “These kinds of men have a dark hole in their soul that they try to fill with violence and a sense of authority. They are addicted to the rush of power they get by bending another soul to their will.” He continued, “I have heard of people who work to enforce the king's vicious orders will sometimes regret the evils they do. In fact, some of the people with the best grasp of liberty are ones who escaped the system they served. They know in their hearts that it is undeniably evil and vow the rest of their lives to work against it, begging for redemption.”

  “I think I understand, Archibald, but all this freedom stuff is new to me. It'll take a while to clear my mind of past ideas," Patrick responded. "But I really need to go home and sleep.”

  “Well you can’t work looking like this anyway," Archibald sighed. "And we got to wash the blood out of your hair and beard. You know you're going to have a black and blue face for a few weeks and aren't going to be so pretty for April Sky's lovelies."

  Patrick smiled. "Maybe you should take me back to April's to wash up. I don't mind how I look.”

  Archibald smacked Patrick in his sore face. “I think you have had enough
of the Red Lady for a while, but you will be seeing April tomorrow.”

  When the two blacksmiths returned home they saw an old Indian with a collie dog sitting on one of the stumps in the yard smoking hemp. The men greeted each other and shared a pipe as Patrick stumbled to his hammock in the shed. “How are the mules?” Archibald questioned.

  “In good health. They ask about you!” the old man laughed.

  “I need to know of a place where we can bring the cannons discreetly to the coast. Do you know of a place?" Archibald questioned.

  “Yes. There was a sacred land to my people." The Indian's face darkened, "The English took it and gave it a new name. Oglethorpe call it ‘Jekyl Island’ now.”

  “It has been taken many times and given many names by the Spanish, the French, the Spanish again and now the English," Archibald added. He knew this Island and knew it had an English occupant named William Horton, appointed by General Oglethorpe, to setup a military post to protect Fort Frederica on St Simon's Island. "Last I heard, he built himself a home on that island," Archibald added about William Horton. He reasoned, "We'll have to come in at night so as not to be seen."

  “Let me make map and show you good place,” Li Go Che suggested. Archibald yelled into the house and Heather appeared with a quill, ink, and a scrap of hemp parchment. Although the Indian could not write his own name, he was excellent at drawing maps. In just a short time, a very detailed map was ready. “Pick up guns, six moons pass. Then meet here,” the white-haired man pointed.

  “Very good. I will meet you outside of town at dawn.” Archibald confirmed. Both men locked wrists and the Indian and the hyper orange canine quickly departed into the marsh.

  “Wake up, Patrick” Archibald yelled at Patrick. His face had swollen up while he slept and was now very black and blue. When Patrick was roused, Archibald explained, “I need you to deliver this map to April Sky. I do not want to risk my marriage by being seen there again. Also, I am going to hire Isaac for another week. I will expect you back here in an hour, so no dawdling at the Red Lady.”