A Sea Too Far (12 page)

“And who be these two scurvy looking characters?” the second man asked as he indicated Marty Read and Robert Gladstone. “Be they some of the pirates. Let’s take them as hostages.”

A rumble of angry accord sounded from the growing gathering of concerned citizens.

“Aye,” Gladstone replied. “I be Robert Gladstone of the ship
Queen Ann’s Revenge
. It would not be wise to lay hands on me or me young friend. If we do not return to our vessel with our heads attached, I vouch ye will have seen the last of the passengers aboard
Crowley
. Thy ships in port will burn to the waterline, and thy homes will lie in ashes. A little medicine and some grog and a few pieces of eight are a small price to avoid such catastrophe.”

“We must see the governor this very evening,” Captain Marks said. “Is he at home at this hour?”

“Governor Spotswood is enjoying a cup at the Bloody Duck. I left him there not fifteen minutes ago,” one of the men reported.

“Then it’s to the Bloody Duck for me,” Captain Marks said as he stood and stepped to the wharf. “We don’t have the luxury of time to meet the demands of the pirates.”

“I’ll be accompanying thee,” Robert Gladstone said. “I might be helpful in convincing the governor of the seriousness of me captain’s demands.”

Marty Read looked at Gladstone as the pirate ascended to the wooden wharf. “Do ye wish me to join thee?”

“Nay, lad,” he said. “Go into town and find us rooms, preferably above a gay tavern with comely wenches serving tall flagons of drink.”

“Aye, Mr. Gladstone,” Marty Read said with a sigh of resignation. The young pirate had witnessed Gladstone and his compatriots in many taverns in Nassau swilling grog and shamelessly groping waitresses. The behavior was not to his liking.

* * *

The Bloody Duck was a two story wooden building wedged into a row of forlorn structures and perched directly on Tradd Street, two blocks from the waterfront. The windows of the upper floor stood open to the night air; the slatted shutters were pinned to the side of the building with decorative metal clamps. A balcony bordered by a wrought iron railing ran the entire length of the upper floor of the tavern. Dim gas lights shone through two of the upper rooms.

Twin lanterns framed the open front door. Numerous other lamps inside the building shined dully through the opening and the flanking windows. The sound of raised voices, lubricated with copious amounts of wine, rum and brandy, tumbled into the rutted street from inside the establishment.

Captain Marks and Robert Gladstone approached the door and entered the smoke-filled tavern. The captain looked around the gathered patrons until he saw the governor sitting at one of the tables in the rear. He removed his hat and approached solicitously. Gladstone trailed a step behind.

Governor Spotswood looked up from his drink at the two men standing before him. “Be ye gentlemen waiting to talk to me?”

“Aye, governor,” Captain Marks said. “Tis true. We need a moment of thy time. I’m the captain of the ship
Crowley
. There’s been an attack in the harbor.”

The governor placed his drink on the table and wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “An attack?” he repeated incredulously. “There’s been an attack in Charles Town? Impossible! Preposterous!”

“Yea,” Captain Marks said. “Pirates have taken hostages from
Crowley
as we were making for the ocean on our way to New York.”

“There be pirates in Charles Town?” the governor shouted. His face grew florid with anger at the unexpected news. “And they have taken hostages? Who have they taken?”

“All the passengers from
Crowley
are being held on the pirate ship including Mr. Samuel Wragg of the Province Council,” Captain Marks reported as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I have a letter from Mr. Wragg addressed to ye.”

Governor Spotswood fought to control his emotions at the effrontery and audacity of a group of pirates to raid in the harbor of his town. He grabbed the letter from Captain Marks and stared at the words outlining Blackbeard’s demands for medicine and rum and gold in exchange for the lives of the hostages.

“Do ye actually believe this band of pirates will kill the hostages, captain?” the governor asked as he fumed with indignation.

Captain Marks answered with a simple nod of his head.

Spotswood turned to one of the men sitting speechless at the table. He handed him the letter. “This is outrageous. Nevertheless, the men’s lives are the most important issue. Gather the medicines and rum that the pirates demand,” he said. “I’ll provide the gold from the treasury. We cannot allow Mr. Wragg and the other passengers to be murdered by these pirates.”

Robert Gladstone inched forward. “I’ve been sent to represent the pirates, your honor. May I speak to thee in private?”

“Who may ye be?” Governor Spotswood asked. His anger at the situation continued to boil inside.

Gladstone looked around and lowered his voice. “I be Robert Gladstone, able seaman on the
Queen Anne’s Revenge
.”

“So, we have one of the pirates in our very midst,” the governor said. “Why shouldn’t we draw and quarter ye this minute?”

“Because I can help ye,” Gladstone said. “I pledge you’ll not be sorry ye allowed me to speak.”

~19~
 

Governor Spotswood closed the door to the small room in the back of the Bloody Duck Tavern. He pointed Captain Marks to a chair. Turning to Robert Gladstone, he motioned for the pirate to speak.

“Do ye know who is the pirate anchored in thy harbor?” Gladstone asked the two men.

“Nay, the name was not mentioned,” Captain Marks said.

“The captain of
Queen Anne’s Revenge,
presently anchored in thy harbor, is Mr. Edward Teach,” Gladstone said. “His crew knows him as Blackbeard.”

“I think I may have heard the name,” Governor Spotswood said. “He carries the reputation of a fierce pirate, does he?”

“Aye, governor,” Captain Marks said. “I, too, have heard the name. But to me sorrow I have also seen Blackbeard’s face. He is the most frightening man I have ever had the misfortune to cast me eyes upon.”

“This is true?” the governor said.

“His head is overly large on a thick and tall body,” Marks reported. “His face is covered with long black whickers tied in braids. Candles burn in his beard and his face is wreathed with smoke as if he just emerged from a visit to Hades.”

“And he will kill the hostages if we don’t deliver the medicine and rum and gold?” Governor Spotswood asked pragmatically.

“Aye,” Captain Marks replied without hesitation.

Spotswood turned to Gladstone. “Ye talked of help, pirate. Ye have thy private audience. What is it ye wish to say?”

Robert Gladstone placed his satchel on the floor and opened his hands. “There’s talk of pardons for pirates,” he said. “I want a pardon. I wish to give up the life of a pirate. I don’t want to be hunted for the rest of me life.”

Governor Spotswood leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “You talked of helping us in Charles Town. How does granting ye a pardon help our citizens?”

“Do I have your promise of a pardon?” Gladstone asked. “I ask thy promise as a gentleman and the governor of the province of South Carolina.”

“Ye have me promise,” the governor replied. “But only if ye help us free the hostages held by this pirate Blackbeard.”

Gladstone nodded with satisfaction. “I will help ye free the hostages. It will cost ye neither medicine nor rum nor gold. And I will help ye capture the most feared pirate sailing the seven seas. With the defeat of Blackbeard, ye will become the most famous governor in the colonies of America.”

* * *

Two days later
Fancy
, a forty foot fishing schooner, sailed from the Charles Town harbor. Captain Marks was in command of the vessel which carried a wooden chest purportedly loaded with medicines for the pirates of
Queen Anne’s
Revenge.
A burlap sack rested on the deck of the boat that claimed to be stuffed with 500 gold coins. Cases of empty rum bottles were stacked nearby.

Robert Gladstone was aboard
Fancy
. His written pardon remained ashore, secure in his room at the Boar’s Tooth Inn. The duplicitous pirate knew the medicines in the chest were merely vials of water and beakers of ground flour. He also knew the rum bottles were empty and the sack of gold contained only rocks.

Marty Read had passed two interesting days wandering about Charles Town. The young pirate marveled at the large homes on South Battery Street facing the Ashley River and the magnificent four story mansions lining Meeting Street.

Marty reflected back to his youth in Devon County, England where his mother had raised him with the assistance of an allowance from a grandmother. The impoverished village had consisted of tiny huts made of mud bricks and stone.

After the death of his grandmother, with no more funds forthcoming, Marty had left the countryside and taken a job as a footboy to a wealthy French woman in London. The city was overwhelming. People lived in filth. Rats wandered the stone streets with impunity, feasting on garbage and the carcasses of dead animals.

Two years later, following an enlistment in a military regiment, Marty had fled England on a Dutch ship that was headed for the Caribbean. He had seen enough deprivation and spent sufficient nights freezing in dank rooms. He longed to be warm, see the sun, and possibly earn enough money to enjoy a decent life.

Before the Dutch ship had arrived at its destination in the islands, Blackbeard had spotted the vessel and launched an attack. Captain Teach stripped the ship of its valuables and took young Marty Read aboard
Queen Anne’s Revenge
to join his piratical crew. The life of freedom and adventure immediately appealed to the fifteen year-old. He wanted no more poverty and dirt and hunger. The lure of a life at sea called loudly to Marty Read.

The youthful pirate now stood beside Robert Gladstone, completely oblivious to the traitorous plot underway, and unaware of the ten armed men hidden below deck in the fish holds of
Fancy
.

“Ahoy, the
Queen Anne’s Revenge
,” Captain Marks shouted as he brought the fishing vessel close to the pirate ship. “Where be Captain Blackbeard? We have his medicine and rum and gold as ransom.”

Queen Anne’s Revenge’s
Quartermaster Stede Bonnet appeared on the rear deck and waved for the fishing boat to come alongside.

“Nay, tis not possible,” Captain Marks replied pointing to the elaborate rigging used for fishing that hung from the mast. “Me thinks the nets will tangle in thy yardarms. It be best if we anchor nearby. Blackbeard can row over in his launch and inspect the bounty we have brought from the governor.”

“I’ll inform Captain Teach,” Quartermaster Bonnet shouted back. “Anchor thy boat close by and stand by to receive our launch.”

* * *

Captain Edward Teach stood in the prow of the
Queen Anne’s
Revenge’s
launch with one foot on the railing. The candles in his braided beard were unlit; Blackbeard felt no need to embellish his fierce countenance. His ubiquitous sword rested inside his waist sash, however, and the three loaded pistols dangled from lanyards hanging from his neck. A satisfied smile was spread across his face.

Warren toiled at one of the oars. Conchshell paced anxiously in the stern of the launch, jumping from one bench seat to the other.

Warren had volunteered to row Blackbeard across the one hundred meter expanse of water between the two vessels for three reasons. He was bored with sitting on the pirate ship’s deck after two days of inactivity. He was curious to study the fishing boat and understand their net gear. And he wanted to see his new friend Marty Read and ask him about Charles Town.

The other pirates in the crew were more than happy to let the newest recruit work while they continued to sit and sip on the remaining wine captured from the French merchant ship.

Quartermaster Stede Bonnet hauled on the other oar. Normally he would not submit to such menial labor, but he was anxious to board the fishing boat and inspect the medicine and count the rum and gold. As quartermaster, Bonnet was singularly responsible for the correct distribution of the bounty and thus the happiness of the crew.

Blackbeard grabbed a line dropped from
Fancy
and tied the launch securely. He reached for the railing and pulled himself up. With a single bound, he swung his long legs over the side and stood on the deck. His eyes immediately fell on the chest supposedly containing medicines, the cases of rum bottles, and the satchel alleged to be stuffed with gold coins.

“I see thou has kept thy word,” Blackbeard said to Captain Marks as he approached the ransom piled on the deck. “Then there be no need for bloodshed. If all is in order, the hostages are thine. Not a hair on their heads has been harmed.”

“Not so quickly, Mr. Teach,” Captain Marks said agreeably. “We must exchange the ransom and the hostages properly. Call back to thy boat. Tell thy men to release the hostages from their confines and let us see them on thy deck. We have no reason to doubt thy word, other than ye be a man of treacherous reputation.”

Blackbeard bristled at the thinly veiled insult. He placed his hand on the butt of his sword and contemplated drawing the blade and slashing the captain’s throat, but he refrained. Instead, he turned and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Bring the prisoners topside,” he yelled. “The captain harbors some doubt about the word of Blackbeard.”

“Send thy launch back to
Queen Anne’s Revenge
,” Captain Marks said reasonably. “The governor of South Carolina has expended much time and treasure to assemble this bounty. He instructed me to be certain we receive our citizens back in good health. Put Mr. Wragg and the others aboard thy launch. When they are half way back to
Fancy
, ye may gather up the gold and rum and medicines.”

Blackbeard glanced at the treasure lying close by his boots. The medicine was much desired by the men. Sickness and wounds aboard ship often meant death. A storeroom of healing potions meant a happy and productive crew. The gold would purchase much grog and wine in the pubs of Nassau or Jamaica. The rum would bolster the pirates’ courage when it was time to fight.