The crew stared at him with disbelief. “Captain, they have a pyromancer!” a crewman said.
Mulligan sliced him across the mid-section, spilling his intestines over the deck.
The men looked at their fallen comrade with disbelief as he expired. It wasn’t the first time Mulligan had killed one of his own men, but that didn’t make it easy to watch.
“Hang on, lads, I’ll go get the grapples, then we take that bloody ship!” one of the crew said.
“What’s yer name, lad?” Mulligan asked the stocky black haired young man.
“Fletcher, sir!”
“Mr. Fletcher, ye be in charge of this attack. Carry it out, an ye’ll be getting’ a double share of the prize.”
“Aye sir!” Fletcher replied. “Miller, find someone to replace that lump of turds,” he said, pointing to their dead companion.
Mulligan nodded with approval. After the Waverunner was theirs, they would use the gold, if it even existed, to restore the Griffon, and then they would rain unholy Hell down on the guild for sending them to be executed at the hands of a pyromancer.
* * * * * * *
“Quenton, can you spare a box of sulfursticks?” David asked.
The older bald man nodded, reached in his pocket and pulled out a small box. “Here you go, Tanner.”
David tore a piece of cloth off of bolt. He handed Edge a bottle of the whiskey. “Here, I need you to make a little room in the bottle.”
Edge grinned and pulled the cork out with his teeth. He took three drags from the bottle and shuddered. “Damn, that’s strong stuff!” He handed it back to David.
Tanner stuffed the cloth into the bottle and handed it to Fyke. “Okay, Corwyn. When that boat comes into range of your throwing arm, tell me, I’ll light the cloth, then you throw the bottle.”
Fyke nodded. “Aye, but what’s going to happen?”
Quenton grinned. “Oh, I’ve seen this before. Just watch.”
The lead boat, carrying a dozen or so men, steadily rowed closer. Fyke glanced up at the Griffon for a second. The main mast cracked and fell to the stern, lighting the deck on fire. He glanced back at the lead boat. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was throwing. “Now, Davey!”
David struck the sulfurstick against the striking patch on the side of the box and lit the rag. “Now, Corwyn!”
Fyke heaved as hard as he could. He watched the bottle sail through the air and strike the center of the lifeboat. It exploded in a burst of fire, engulfing the men and setting the small craft alight. The crew of the Waverunner cheered as the burning pirates dove into the water to douse the flames.
“That’s how you do it! Okay, get in your teams, grab a case, and get busy on anyone who comes near!” Tanner said.
Corwyn patted the young Yeoman’s back. “Damn, Davey. I am sorry I ever doubted you.”
“Not as sorry as Mulligan. I’d wager with this loss, it will be five or six months before he is back on his feet.”
They laughed and watched the steady chorus of explosions as boat after boat exploded into balls of fire. They had done the impossible and defeated Black Jack Mulligan.
* * * * * * *
Mulligan rowed his small lifeboat towards the shores of Decia. He watched with anger and hatred as his beloved Griffon, under his command for twenty two years, never defeated in battle, sat burning in the blue waters of the Decian Sea.
His best officer, Mr. Yates, had been killed when the mainmast fell. His head was smashed like a bowl of eggs.
At least seventy of his crew was dead at the hands of that damned pyromancer. Mulligan wondered if that was this David Tanner the guild spoke of. He vowed to rip the answer out of Donegal’s throat before he removed his tongue and gouged out his eyes.
He looked at the provisions he had managed to grab and throw into the lifeboat before abandoning his ship. One small cask of whiskey, one crate of hardtack, and three large tins of dried meat; more than he needed to get to shore, plus the hundred or so gold he had on him would get him to Northpoint on the eastern side of Decia. He had left a map with a certain tavern owner that he trusted. A little digging and he would be back in business, as there was always piratin’ to be done.
* * * * * * *
The officers sat around the table in the Waverunner’s officer’s mess, picking at the remains of their evening dried fish and crumbs, yet another one of Doc’s many faces of hardtack.
“After that sound thumping we gave Mulligan, I don’t think we have to worry about any more pirate attacks for a while,” Captain Karinga said, taking a sip of grog.
Corwyn picked through his meals as some answers eluded his reasoning.
“What is it, Corwyn?” David asked.
“Well, if Mulligan wasn’t afraid of the bank, where does he keep his gold? I mean, I know he probably has some in his hideout, but he wouldn’t leave it all there in case it was raided, right?”
“Most likely,” David replied. “This is why a lot of pirates bury their gold.”
“But how do they remember where they buried it?” Fyke asked.
“They usually draw a pretty detailed map of the location,” Karinga said.
“Ah.” Fyke continued to eat, his question being answered.
The captain cleared his throat. “So, after we put in at Port Cauldwell, what do you say we take some time and relax? After that battle, I think we can afford a week or so of shore leave for the men. David, any idea on what we are going to do afterwards?”
“Hm. I’ll ask around. Hey Corwyn, after they unload the gold, will you come with me to the Royal Bank?”
“Sure, Davy,” Fyke replied. He thought back to their visit to the bank in River’s End. Suddenly, he remembered something! What was the parchment that the advisor fellow had given him? He reached into his inside pocket and pulled it out.
“What you got there, Cor?” Quenton asked.
“I don’t know. Someone gave it to me at the bank.” He moved the empty serving plate from the center of the table and rolled the parchment out. On it was a picture of an island, some markings of natural landmarks and such, and an ‘X’ on the southeastern side of the island. At the bottom was written “BJM”
David grinned. “Gentlemen, I think Corwyn has provided us with our next job. And from the looks of this treasure map, I think we are going to get to stick it to Black Jack Mulligan yet again.
* * * * * * *
For more adventures of the Waverunner, and to find the story behind the enigmatic David Tanner, buy Blood Of The Righteous, Book 1 of the Ki Kalendeen Chronicles by J. E. Sandoval.
Special thanks to Dee McGowan for proofreading this story. Black Jack Mulligan would have looked rather silly stomping around with books on his feet.
Also, special thanks to my editor, Jen Robb, who always helps me sand off the rough edges to my “push hard until it moves” writing style.
And special thanks to my grammar hammer, Susan Hawk! As she once said, “Let’s eat grandma” and “Let’s eat, grandma!” Proper punctuation saves lives.
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Pirates of the Decian Sea Page 4
