Legends of the Ghost Pirates

~ Legends of the Ghost Pirates ~

M. D. Lee

Copyright
©
2014 by M. D. Lee

Cover Art:

Ryan Wheeler

www.ryanwheeler.biz

Copyediting: Formatting Fairies

This book is the work of fiction. The
characters, incidents, and dialog are drawn from the author’s
imagination and are not to be considered as real. Any resemblance
to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles and reviews. For information address Weetamoo
Press.

Please visit http
www.fishershoemakeradventures.wordpress.com

~ To my M’s ~

Special Thanks to:

Shelley, Becky, Kaitlyn,

DAMARISCOVE ISLAND

MAINE

Table of Content

Prologue

Chapter 1
The Old
House

Chapter 2
Logbook

Chapter 3
Library
Witch

Chapter 4
More Books

Chapter 5
A Yarn

Chapter 6
Getting
There

Chapter 7
Who's She

Chapter 8
On Our Way

Chapter 9
From the Fog

Chapter 10
Embarrassing

Chapter 11
Face in the
Window

Chapter 12
Graveyard

Chapter 13
View from the
Dead

Chapter 14
Exploring the
island

Chapter 15
Under the
Nose

Chapter 16
Ghosts in the
Fog

Chapter 17
Voice from the
Past

Chapter 18
Escape

Chapter 19
Jo's Plans

Chapter 20
Rail Ride

Chapter 21
Come and Get
Us

Chapter 22
Sink 'em!

Chapter 23
Consequences

Chapter 24
The Letter

Prologue

1716; Coastal Province of Massachusetts Bay

(Present day Maine)

“
State
ze name and ze rank,
Monsieur,” the Frenchman said as he pulled back the hammer of the
pistol in an easy manor of a killer.

“Captain Bartholomew Bonney,” he said, ignoring the
weapon pointed at his temple. His eyes were cold as steel looking
straight through the man questioning him. “And if I may ask, what
is
your
name and rank?”

“Fair enough. My name ez Jacque LaPlante. And you
will call me 'sir' because I too am capitaine.”

Still not looking at the Frenchman, Captain Bonney
said, “What is your intention with us?” He paused for a moment then
added,
sir
, as if it were something foul in his mouth.
“Because as you know, our countries have signed peace treaties.
This is no longer French territory.”

“Our intentions? Ha! Is it not obvious? We intend to
take
all
ze money,” said Jacque LaPlante. “For taxation—of
course. I do not care about some treaty signed by a king and queen
across the ocean.”

All twelve of Captain Bonney's men were lined up
directly behind him on the deck of the small two-masted coastal
schooner,
The Queen’s Rose
. The French crewmen, standing on
deck with pistols cocked and aimed to kill, outnumbered Captain
Bonney’s men almost twice. In addition, the French captain had also
left behind an extra twenty men aboard his ship, with cannons
loaded aimed to sink the
Queen's Rose
.

Captain Bonney had surrendered without any fight.
When the French had fired a single cannon-ball across their bow,
there was nothing they could do but to hove-to and let the French
board their little schooner.

Jacque LaPlante lowered his pistol and replaced it
to his belt, yet his men continued to hold fast with their pistols.
He slowly paced the line-up of crew, looking closely at each one,
yet none returned his gaze as they kept their eyes fixed at the
sea's horizon. When he reached the last man, he stopped, turned on
his heels, and wrinkled his nose. “What ez that wreached odor!”

Still looking straight ahead, Captain Bonney
replied, “I do not know what you speak of...sir.”

“That awful stench! Can you not smell?” Jacque
LaPlante said as he pulled a white handkerchief from his sleeve
placing it over his nose.

Captain Bonney turned to his men. “Lads, I do not
smell a thing. Does anyone else smell something a foul?”

“Ney!” replied his men in unison. Captain Bonney
simply shrugged his shoulders to the French captain.

Jacque LaPlante slowly walked back directly in front
of Captain Bonney, placing his face only inches away. LaPlante was
about to speak when Captain Bonney said, “If you are referring to
the smell of stale cheese, I believe it is your breath…sir.”

With the back of his hand, LaPlante instantly
smacked Captain Bonney hard against his cheek. Then hissed. “What
cargo do you haul?”

For the first time, Captain Bonney broke his stare
and looked down at his feet. Barely above a whisper, he said,
“Manure...sir.”

In a loud thunderous roar, Jacque LaPlante said,
“Did you say
manure
?”

Captain Bonney took a deep breath and said, “That I
did...sir.”

Placing hands to his hips, Jacque LaPlante cried, “I
wasted a perfectly fine cannon-ball sending it across your bow! We
should have continued sailing north to the upper province
territories rather than waste any effort on a foul-smelling manure
barge. I shall be the laughing stock shall anyone catch wind of
this!”

“Tell me, Capitaine Bonney, how does this ship earn
a profit hauling manure? I had no idea money was to be made in
hauling animal waste.” He let out another roaring laugh.

“Sir,” Bonney said with clenched fists as anger and
humiliation boiled up inside. “We load it up in the fine city of
Boston, then sail it here to the farmers in the upper province.
Mostly up the Kennebec River.”

“Why on earth would a farmer require more manure?
And these farmers, they pay you money for manure?”

“They do not. But the city of Boston has no use nor
the space, so they provide us with money to haul it away. The
farmers spread it about in their fields—it helps the crops grow
bigger.”

“Oh, this is too much!” With his right hand he made
a quick motion toward the starboard rail, and in an instant his men
lowered their pistols and they made way to the waiting longboats
aside the schooner.

Captain Jacque LaPlante was the last to climb over
the rails, but before he did he reached deep into his pocket to
produce a handful of gold coins. “Capitaine. You need this more
than I.” And tossed the coins to the feet of Captain Bonney still
standing in place. A deep bellowing of laughter erupted from him as
he climbed over the side to the waiting boats below.

As the French rowed away in the longboats to their
waiting ship, Captain Bonney slowly picked each gold coin off the
deck then tossed the handful into the water. Standing at the rail
watching the French, Captain Bonney turned to his first mate, and
said, “We may be just a simple schooner hauling manure, but nobody
humiliates us like that. They will wish they never saw the Queen’s
Rose.”

The first mate said, “But, sir, they did not rob us
nor did they do us any harm. Besides, we do not have any weapons
and we are outnumbered.”

The corners of his mouth turned up to a sly grin,
and he said, “I have a plan.”

The first mate said pointing to the French ship,
“Sir, is that not a pirates’ flag they are flying?”

* * *

Later that night, six men were dressed top to bottom
in black, and on their faces, each had rubbed coal to darken them
even further. In the silence of the moonless night they rowed their
longboat toward the French ship anchored in the cove being careful
not to make a sound. When they pulled alongside the ship, five men
climbed up the hull leaving one behind to tend to the longboat.

Captain Bonney peered over the rail onto the deck
carefully looking fore then aft. In a whisper he said, “Just as I
had hoped; their watch is fast asleep. Quickly now, lads, for we do
not want to be on deck any longer than needed.”

Like black ghosts, the five men slipped over the
rail onto the deck then disappeared like mist into the shadows.
There were no weapons between them, yet the last two men carried
large canvas sacks on their backs. It did not take long for the men
to find what they were looking for; the seven wooden casks of fresh
drinking water.

With nothing more than a hand signal to his men,
they began to pry the lids off the casks while the two other men
hauling the sacks set them down then pulled the contents out.
Suddenly, a stench filled the air as two rotting hunks of pork,
each with a length of rope attached, lay on the deck. Captain
Bonney nodded to the men and they quickly picked the pork up by the
rope and began to dunk them in each water cask. In a very short,
when the men finished soaking the rotting pork the lids were
quickly replaced. In minutes they were back in their longboat
silently rowing back to the Queen’s Rose.

As they pulled the longboat up alongside the Queen's
Rose, the first mate said, “What now, Captain?”

He smiled, “Nothing. All we have to do is stay out
of their sight for a day or two, then we make our move.”

* * *

On the third day the sun was shining with a
freshening breeze from the south. Captain Bonney strode out on deck
and said to the first mate, “I think today is a fine day to pay a
visit to our French friends. I do believe they have not moved and
are still anchored in the cove.”

“But, sir,” the first mate said. “We still have no
weapons. What do you intend to do?”

“Our pitch-forks for tossing manure shall be sharp
enough.”

“But, sir...”

Captain Bonney held up his hand. “Assemble the lads
on deck. Leave two of ’em behind; for everyone else will be paying
a visit to the French.”

Soon two longboats approached the pirate ship with
caution. The men on the oars began to grumble, and one man in the
second longboat said in a low voice, “We shall be murdered for
sure. Soon they shall be firing on us like ducks in a barrel. And
we have no weapons to fire back.”

“Quiet!” the first mate hissed at him.

The two longboats glided alongside the pirate ship,
and several of the men looked at each other in question. Captain
Bonney gave the signal, and the men, with pitch-forks in hand,
began to climb up the rat lines to the rail. When they peered over
there were only seven French crewmen on deck, the rest were nowhere
to be seen. Oddly enough, the crew who were on deck were hunched
over, sitting with their backs against the freeboard.