Justified Treason (Endless Horizon Pirate Stories, Book 1) (19 page)

They’d been cluckin’ at each other like a bunch of ol’ chickens ever since I’d known them and figured they would be ever more, since they never seemed to take interest in the duels that Nortty would threaten to solve their problems with.

Just before their slanderous fight came to blows, Nortty ran between them to manage the intensity. “If ye bloody swabs want to ‘ave it out ye can wait ‘til we get ashore. Hell, I’ll even polish yer gun’s up fer ye.”

As usual, the bickering loggerheads backed off, only mumbling terrible curse words as they separated. Nortty walked away, shaking his head. “It’s hardly been a week and these mates be acting like scurvy ridden ol’ grandmothers at each other’s throats. I ‘ave half a mind to tie them together for a keelhaulin’ just because they almost fight so often.”

Windsor had been playing his guitar, which intensified the emotion of the fight, and as Pete staggered past him he blurted out, “Next port we will plunder you a whole band, matey.”

With everything back in order, we lowered the longboats to row to shore, and Captain Morley, who had planned to stay on deck, ordered Nortty to row out with us. I heard Nortty promise to make a steady report, and as he walked over to join us, he called for me. “Bentley, the captain wants to speak with ye before we row.”

Of course he did. I walked over to see what the scoundrel wanted, and he met me with a wicked glare. “How ‘bout ye show me that map, Bentley.”

Hating him as I did, I was reluctant to han
d it over, but having no other choice I passed him me precious drawing. Holding it up to compare the view, Morley nodded between the picture I had drawn and the view of the island. Annoyed as I was by him and the terrible rip he inflicted upon me map, my conceit over the artwork distracted me from my disdain; I was damn surprised by the accuracy of me sketch.

The sandy shoreline was long but the trees quickly encroached upon the coast. On the eastern end of the shore, there was a sheer rocky cliff that stuck out of the sand and the face of it fell into the clear water. At the top of the cliff there was one lone palm tree that leaned with the breeze, clearly explaining the island’s name Una Palma. If only I had colors to paint with.

I could see that Morley was also impressed, and he confirmed me assumption by declaring, “Aye. Good work, Bentley. It’s a damn shame ye can’t behave as well as ye draw. It’ll be a sheer pity for the world to lose such a valid artist of the sea.”

That hell-hearted son of a bitch. I had half a mind to punch him in the mouth, but thinkin’ better of it, I took me map back and walked to the rowboats without a response to his twisted threat.

A handful of men boarded the first boat, while Faron, Nortty, and John the Cook hopped in the boat with me.

Just as we got set to row, Pete jumped off the deck of the ship, belly flopping into the water. Rising from the blue gasping for air and cursing the pain of his graceless flop, he swam towards us gurgling, “Gotta get away from that blasted ol’ Marv back thar.”

Pete tried to beach himself in the boat, but Faron poked at his forehead with the end of an oar. “Back off ye blubbering sea monster, afore I send ye back to the deep.” Faron laughed as each poke made it more difficult for Pete to roll in. The longboat was swaying and rocking like a storm had hit, and we were all getting splashed in the chaos.

Pete hardly had the breath to bellow his irritated yelp. “I’ll get in thar and ring yer scrawny neck like a wet rag.”

Already buzzing from the rum, I laughed like a crazy man as the scene went on. John the Cook was shaking his head and I heard him mumble under his breath, “Why the hell do I ‘ave to feed these mangy people.”

Nortty looked to be just as amused as I was but eventually he chimed in with his peace keeping management, “It would be convenient to hand out a duel while we be ashore, if
’n ye boys can’t work this out.”

Faron quit poking and gave Pete his hand to offer help.

“I’d rather ol’ Marv give me a hand after that stunt.” Pete spit as he finally rolled in the boat. He flopped flat on his back between the benches, trying to catch his haggard ol’ breath, and I was laughing so hard I could hardly row.

The day was sunny and steaming with humidity, so I dipped me hat in the ocean, pouring the salty water on my head. Instantly relieving me of the heat, the cooling sensation ran down my back, leaving me long hair wet to cool me for a while to come.

Swishing our oars through the crystal clear water, I watched the liquid fade from a deep dark blue to a shimmering teal until it was white like the sand beneath it. Stepping out of the boats, our boots splashed in the shallow water and we disbursed onto the land. A few men went with John the Cook into the trees to find fruit and hopefully meat, while Pete sat in the shade against a palm with a bitter look on his face, drinking his rum alone.

Faron and Nortty followed me across a narrow cascade of fallen boulders that winded up the backside of the cliff. The crevice was damp and misty with moss and plant life sprouting between the rocks. Thar was a thick brush covering that blockaded the most reasonable entrance to the cliff top, so I pulled out me cutlass and began to hack a path out of the thicket. Finally reaching our destination, the three of us stood silent, observing the fullness of the view.

While lookin’ around, I found me mind thinking ‘bout how Charlotte would love to see such a sight. The endless blue shimmer of ocean coated the earth like a blanket and the sunlight sauntered warmly across the beaming blue sky that was clear of clouds. The
Wind of Glory
was anchored peacefully at the edge of the bay and seemed tiny in comparison to the wild blue that surrounded it.

Looking through me new spyglass, I could see a small bunch of clouds in the far eastern distance. By the lay of a cloud I could tell if it was rolling freely over the sea or tumbling its way around the peaks of a shore, and that bundle of white signified a distant shore. From the look of the clouds, the beginning of the island chain leading to Ile De Amoruex wouldn’t be far, and the island itself should be a minimum two day sail.

Explaining what I had figured to Nortty and Faron, they agreed to aim course in a southeasterly direction, and Nortty patted me on the back before he bounced down the rocks to join Pete in the shade. Standing alone with Faron, I figured I’d let him know ‘bout me trouble with the captain. If I wanted to escape the mission alive, I would need him on me side, so I hoped he’d be easy to persuade.

As I relayed the details, Faron nodded his head with interest. “So that’s what’s been going on? I’ve been ‘bout ready to slap that man upside his head fer abusing his reign of power as he has. His murderous actions ‘ave put the men on edge and I see the way the crew’s been dividing.” He shook his head in shame. “No way to run a crew. I could ‘ave gone to work in Barbados
if’n I wanted a domineering tyrant running me life. I chose this life to escape slavery, and hell will be lookin’ pretty to the man that tries to take me freedom.”

I was always humored by the way Faron so easily blustered his thoughts into inspiring speeches, and I was pleased to know we had a similar view of the issue. “And I thought I might ‘ave to persuade ye to my favor.”

He laughed, “Ye know we think alike, Bentley. I been wonderin’ how I might get me arse outta this hellbound crew, so I’m not surprised to hear ye ‘ave been doing the same. Ye come up with anything yet?”

“Either vote or mutiny. Vote would be best, but either way we’d need to gather a good backing to make a valid stance.  Morley’s got so many men on his side, and though I ‘ave heard a few complaining about his ways, it’s not nearly enough hands to vote him out and certainly not enough backbone to run a mutiny. He’s running them with fear, so it’ll be hard to convince them it’d be worth the risk. Though ye and I would rather die fighting than cower in shame, others might not be so savvy for the notion without a little persuasion.”

“We got a few items of persuasion; promise of freedom and the treasure map.” He tapped me on the forehead. “I reckon their greed might support the power we need to back our play.”

He was right. Most of these greedy dogs were out for the prize.

Pleased to know that Faron was ready to fight, I suggested we head down the path as we continued making our plans. Being bound to the code that we signed in our blood, the consequences for inspiring a mutiny would be treacherous, so in order to make a change, we’d ‘ave to take our time to plot accordingly. Faron had some surprising ideas and I was confident that his air of leadership would inspire a good group of men to follow our lead, and we’d be needing as many followers as we could get.

Keeping the
Wind of Glory
anchored where she stood, we planned to set sail with the rising sun. John the Cook had gathered up a bounty of fruit, fish from the stream, and a sea turtle. Sea turtle was a desired delicacy on a ship that would be sailing for days on end, for it could be kept alive in the hold and killed for fresh meat at a later date. The men stored the turtle that John named Sheldon, while he made us fish and fruit for the night’s feast.

After dinner, I sat with a few of me mates, and with the lights out on deck, the stars that dazzled across the darkened sky glowed in all their heavenly glory. The ship gently rolled on the wake while the melody of subtle splashes sounded against the hull, and we talked and laughed as we drank our rum. With me body a buzz, me thoughts swayed easily with the ship. 

James Thornton came to join us, and when he sat next to Pete, Pete growled, “And what the hell tree did this blimey little twig fall off of?”

James laughed before he told Pete his story and as I expected, he ended his tale with a dramatic bewail. “I thought your kind just stole gold, drank rum and had your fun with the wenches. This has turned out to be a great deal of work.”

Among the laughter that surrounded James, I reminded, “This has been smooth sailing, matey. Just wait ‘til we hit a storm.”

Faron laughed as he assured, “Don’t worry ‘bout the storms, mate. The battles be much worse. I’d rather die by the hand of God’s nature than the blade of a bloodthirsty pirate.” Faron ran his forefinger across his throat like a knife and James shrieked in fear. “Oh, how did I not think this through?”

Marin the Marooner added, “Ye ought to be worried ‘bout the punishment for cowardice, fearing like ye are.”

James had told me he was afraid of the “pierced and tattooed African boy”, so I laughed as he inhaled his intimidation and turned away from Marin without saying a word.

Pete, who was rubbing his disgusting bare belly, belched a near vomit before attempting to sound spooky. “What ye need to be watching out for be the mystics of this dazzling blue sea. Thar be sirens that will seduce ye, aye those sweet little vixens will sing ye songs so they can drown ye. Thar also be ghostly haunts aboard the ships from men that ‘ave fallen in battle and the men that ‘ave drown in the storms. That’s why we tie chains around the dead before we throw them overboard, so they don’t be rising to haunt us later. But to me the worst thing be The Kraken.”

James gasped in suspense. “What is The Kraken? How can it be worse than all those awful things?”

Enjoying the fear on James’ face, we held back our laughter and let Pete glorify his tale for our own humor. I’d heard Pete’s story so many times, and it grew more dramatic each time he told it. First time he had only thought he saw The Kraken. The next time, he made eye contact with the beast’s enormous pupils. Eventually, The Kraken growled and moaned, but this time, the story reached its peak of exaggerated dramatics…

“Avast, the sun was rising and the ocean was calm. Pouring a barrel of fish guts overboard, I saw its slimy skin slithering past the hull, but before I had a chance to panic, the mangy beast raised its gigantic tentacles into the air. The slobbering row of suction cups reached over the deck and began tearing at the ship. Aside from our horror, we tried to defend the ship, but thar was no hope. The beasty ripped the mast to bits, and I barely survived the wreckage by clinging onto a barrel that floated me at sea for days…”

At that point we could no longer contain our humor. Nearly in tears with laughter, teasing Pete ‘bout his hysterics, me stomach hurt from laughing so much, and Faron had one of those laughs that made me want to laugh more, so I couldn’t stop. Planky used his long skinny arms to imitate the tentacles of The Kraken, and Pete just drank his rum while insisting on the seriousness. James pretended to laugh, but I was sure he wished he was still sleeping behind the tavern in Port Royal.

Chapter 8

Power of the Storm

As told by Sterling Bentley

T
he sails were set with the morning light, but the sun didn’t show for long. A slew of clouds rolled in from the south, quickly covering the sky, and the dark storm brewing in the distance was lookin’ heavier than the tension aboard. Sailing on in the cloud covered day, hoping that the ferocity of the storm would stay at bay, I eyed the sky like an untrusted antagonist.

James joined me at the tiller and inquired through his worried eyes
, “Will that storm be coming this way?”