The Pirate Raiders Page 2

  “How exactly did this magic ring you speak of fall into evil hands?” I asked.

  Governor Winters let out another tired sigh before he spoke. “It’s nearly impossible to separate fact from fiction…there are so many different stories regarding the ring. Here is the legend as I know it: King Solomon’s ring was unearthed near Jerusalem over 500 years ago during the Crusades. It is believed that the ring was used by the Crusaders to unleash a multitude of demons upon the Muslim forces. Although the Crusaders were fighting in the name of Christ, they felt that their use of the ring was justifiable since their foe was unholy and unworthy to remain in the Holy Land.”

  “For a time, the ring’s power allowed the Crusaders to gain the upper hand over their Muslim enemies and they enjoyed several victories. Unfortunately, the victories were only short term, and it seemed that they were won with a heavy price. It is believed that God punished the Crusaders for turning to the ring and its demonic powers in their effort to claim the Holy Land in His name. It is widely believed that is the reason the Crusades were lost.”

  “So what happened to the ring after that?” I asked anxiously.

  “The ring was locked away in a silver chest and moved from castle to castle throughout the past 500 years. Legend says that the chest was guarded at all times by four of the king’s best soldiers. No one dared open the chest for fear of what the consequences could be for England and whoever the reigning queen or king was at the time.”

  “Eventually, it seems the legend of King Solomon’s ring began to ring less true each and every year that went by until finally most people dismissed the story altogether as nothing more than a child’s bedtime story. About seventy-five years ago, the practice of guarding the ring twenty-four hours a day ceased. That leads us to the age we now live in and before I go any further there is something you must understand. King George is a very superstitious soul. When he took the throne he made it clear early on that he did not like the idea of having the ring in the same quarters as him. He requested to speak to the captain of the next ship headed for Port Royal. In a private meeting, that captain was ordered to dispose of the ring into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean near the midway point of the voyage.”

  “Apparently things didn’t go according to plan,” I said.

  The governor crossed his arms and shook his head regretfully. “No, it seems the captain of that ship had other plans. He sold the ring at sea to a pirate. The Royal Navy captain and his dreadful crew collected a lion’s share of gold for the ring, but they made a very serious mistake.”

  I cocked my head sideways, puzzled about what the governor was referring to.

  “They should’ve never trusted a bloody pirate,” he said sharply.

  I nodded. “Let me guess, the corrupt captain and his crew of fools didn’t get very far with that gold did they?”

  “No sooner had the wind began to fill their sails, the pirate captain put the ring to good use and called upon a tentacled monstrosity from the depths of the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “The kraken,” I whispered.

  “The poor ship and the crew never stood a chance. It was all destroyed in mere minutes.”

  I shook my head and chewed my lip as I let the governor’s words digest. There was no good reason for him to make up a story like the one I’d just heard. I believed him; the somber expression on his face could not be faked. The governor was truly concerned about what the coming days held in store for him and the rest of the world. Now it seems he was relying on me of all people to make things right. For a brief instance, the gallows didn’t seem so bad anymore. There was only one part of the governor’s story that didn’t make sense.

  “If this pirate captain you speak of had a beast of the sea destroy a Royal Navy ship in the middle of the Atlantic, how do you possibly know so many details of the incident?”

  “I know because there was one survivor,” the governor replied. “He was found floating on part of the wreckage by a passing merchant ship and brought to Port Royal. He told us everything.”

  I took a step toward the governor, suddenly intrigued by the news of this survivor. “May I speak with him?”

  The governor looked toward the floor and slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid that will not be possible,” he said. “The young man was injured gravely by a splinter from the mizzen mast. He died the day after our interrogation.”

  I frowned at the news. “That’s unfortunate,” I said. “I suppose there is only one other question that needs asking.”

  “Yes,” the governor replied. “You want to know the identity of the pirate captain that currently holds possession of the most powerful ring in the entire world.”

  I said nothing and waited anxiously for him to tell me. I prayed that it wasn’t Blackbeard, and yet I knew there was another pirate captain sailing the seas that was worse than he. Surely not, I thought hopefully.

  “The witness was very certain that the pirate captain was none other than Winston Trimble,” the governor said solemnly.

  Damn! My nausea returned; I felt incredibly sick. The governor must have noticed the change of color in my face because he quickly urged me to sit down. I followed his advice, and although sitting down did help, the nausea didn’t leave me. Why, oh why did it have to be Captain Trimble?

  “Now perhaps you see why I went to extreme measures to bring you here and why I had no choice but to ask for your help with this unfortunate matter,” Governor Winters said in a tone that suggested we were suddenly friends instead of foes.

  “Governor, I beg your pardon but you haven’t ‘asked’ me to do anything,” I snapped back. “I seem to have very little choice in the matter.”

  He stared back at me steely eyed and began to revert back to the bitter old man I’d met when I first entered the room. “Pirate, there is always a choice,” he answered coldly. “If you refuse, you and your crew will die. If you choose to embark on this task, you will have the opportunity to live out your days and leave this world when God chooses the time of your death, not me.”

  I wanted to curse him at that moment, but thought better of it. “I see your point.” That was all I could muster. “Captain Trimble flies under a red flag. There are no pirates in the Caribbean that are his ally. Surely you can understand my concern, governor. You do know the meaning of the red flag?”

  “Of course I know the meaning of it,” he barked in response. “The ‘red jack’ means there will be no mercy…no quarter given! It means death to all that encounter Captain Trimble’s ship. I understand the monumental task before you Captain Redd. However, you have quite a reputation yourself and have proven to be very resourceful in dire situations. I will give you a worthy ship and anything else you require.”

  I stood there with my mouth gaped open like a fool. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if I was currently feeling fear or anger. I imagined giving this news to my crew mere minutes after they rejoiced of the news of their freedom. I could already hear Langley’s barrage of insults and curse words that would no doubt spew from his cracked and chapped lips. None of them would want any part of chasing after Trimble and his ship, Sea Witch. It would be my burden as captain to convince them otherwise. “Give me a quill and parchment. I will make a list of the items I require,” I said at last.

  The governor smiled a wide, toothy grin. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Be sure to thank God tonight for sparing your life when you look up at the stars. And if you ask nicely, He may just assist you in killing Trimble.”

  The governor began to laugh and I knew he was right. The only way I’d get that ring away from Captain Trimble would be to kill him. I truly believed only God could make that happen.

  Chapter 2:

  The matter of my crew was resolved swiftly. As soon as the governor and I had concluded our meeting, I was escorted back to the prison and given the honor of releasing my men. They were, understandably, relieved to see me again. My loyal helmsman, Oliver Langley, was the first to greet me. Langley was f
orty years old, his skin the color of copper, a direct result of a lifetime at sea. I firmly believed there was no helmsman anywhere in the Caribbean that was as gifted as he, however he had one flaw. He drank more rum than any man I’d ever met. There were many times when this affected his abilities at the helm of my ship. Still, he was a loyal and trusted friend. He would be at the wheel as long as he desired to be and I would do what I could to manage his unquenchable thirst for rum.

  “Cap’n Redd, we feared you’d already fallen victim to the gallows,” he said, relieved to see me alive and well. It was probably the most sober I’d seen him in ten years.

  “Langley, you all know me better than that,” I replied, clasping a hand on his bony shoulder. “Have you and the others been treated fairly?”

  Langley’s weathered face dropped to the ground so low that all I could see was the gray hair atop his head. When his head arose back up, he gazed into my eyes and there was a fury behind them that I hadn’t seen before. “These scurvy dogs drubbed us repeatedly and threatened to hang us if we didn’t tell them who you really are.”

  I glanced over at the two soldiers who had escorted me to the prison cells. “They beat you, did they?” I said with a snarl. The guards said nothing, but one returned a smug look my way that suggested he held no regrets. I leaned over to Langley and spoke just loud enough where he could hear me. “We’ll deal with the vermin later.” He nodded and his anger seemed to subside. “Where is Gordon?” I asked, scanning the rugged group of pirates in front of me.

  “Alive and well, no thanks to you,” an eloquent voice called out from the back of the group.

  Gordon Littleton was only a few years my senior, but he seemed far older. He did not fit in at all with the rest of the pirates that stood before me and there was a good reason for that. At one time, Gordon was employed as a navigator for the East India Trading Company. As fate would have it, our paths crossed five years ago when my crew and I intercepted the galleon on which Gordon was aboard. It was the luxury goods we were after but the crew was unwilling to give up the treasure without a fight. So fight we did, and although we won the battle, it came with a price. Ned Plinkton, my long-time navigator at the time, was mortally wounded. We happily shoved off with our treasure that day, and since we suddenly found ourselves without a navigator, we took Gordon Littleton too.

  I fully expected the first few days and weeks to be a very trying time. I didn’t know if Gordon had a family, nor did I know how willing he would be to cooperate with what we asked of him. It was somewhat of a pleasant surprise when Gordon signed the articles so willingly, and he did everything that was asked of him. For a year he kept to himself, said very little, and I didn’t bother to speak to him much either. I saw him as something of a skulk, content with wallowing in his own self-pity. He never even took a sip of rum during the entire year.

  We finally had a lengthy conversation during his second year in which he admitted to me a startling revelation. Gordon had no family back home, at least not anymore, because he’d murdered his wife the month before I’d taken him captive. He’d found her with another man the night before he was to leave home. He killed the both of them, the wife and her lover, and did nothing to hide his crime before he left his home for the final time. He admitted that he’d been terrified about returning home after his time at sea. Gordon was certain the gallows would be awaiting him upon his return.

  The morning he saw the sails of my pirate ship on the horizon, he accepted that whatever happened would be his punishment from God for his crime. It was not a surprise to him when we forced him to join the crew, and although the life he now lived was disgusting to him, he accepted it as a consequence for what he had done. As the years went by, Gordon became more and more comfortable with his place on my ship and eventually warmed up to the rest of the crew. He even began to partake in the rum rationing.

  There was, and I assume always will be, a cockiness about him that occasionally gets under my skin. I suppose it’s the way he speaks, and the way he always takes time to make certain each strand of blonde hair upon his head is laid down perfectly. Nevertheless, he is a valuable member of my crew and he and Langley became my most trusted advisors. It was no surprise to me that he was now standing in the shadows, behind the rest of the crew.

  “Gordon, come forward so I can see your swabby face,” I commanded cheerfully. Gordon stepped through the crowd and for the first time I’d known him his golden hair was in complete disarray, his face bloodied and bruised. “I see that you were mistreated also,” I said grimly.

  “Aye, captain; all of us were.”

  “Gordon was drubbed worst of all,” Langley chimed in. “They mistook his well kempt hair to mean he would be the softest and easiest of us to break.”

  “They were wrong,” Gordon said firmly. “I told them nothing, captain.”

  I scanned over the rest of my tired and beaten crew. I was moved by the lengths they had gone to protect me even though they were unaware if I was even alive. I reached forward and gave Gordon a bear hug. “I vow to all of you that I will not forget what you’ve endured for me. I am indebted to each of you. I hope your freedom is a consolation for what you’ve gone through. There will be plenty of rum to go around tonight!”

  The mention of rum made Langley smile. “Point me to it,” he said anxiously.

  “There will be time for that later,” I answered with a smile. “I need to speak with you and Gordon in private.” I turned to the others. “As for the rest of you, I’ve made arrangements for your personal belongings to be returned to you at the front gate when you exit this wretched place. That includes your weapons and any coin each of you had on your person when we were taken captive. I urge you all to go out and get yourselves a hot meal. Go out, find a lady of the evening, and drink until your heart is content. Tomorrow morning we set sail!”

  The men cheered and then a hulking, mammoth of a man stepped forward. “How did you manage this, Cap’n?” he asked in his deep, growling voice. The man was Hale Woodrow, the ship carpenter. He was a good, strong man, but dimwitted and almost child-like.

  I moved beside him and patted him on the back. I had to stand on my toes to do so. “Go out and enjoy yourself tonight, Mr. Woodrow. Everything will be explained tomorrow,” I assured him. “That goes for all of you. Let’s meet up at the docks an hour after sunrise.”

  The men filed out, picking up their cutlasses, pistols and other belongings as they left the building. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of them would show up in the morning on time. It would have been wise of me to forbid them from drinking on this night, but how could I? They’d been tortured for me. Besides, I knew something they did not. There were no plans to shove off from Port Royal until the afternoon. The morning would be spent stocking the ship I was promised. Surely by the time we really were ready to set sail all of the men would be accounted for.

  I was the last to retrieve my weapons and hat. I slapped the leather tricorn on my pants leg and a plume of dust wisped into the air. I didn’t feel complete without that hat and I smiled as I put it on. Now I felt whole again.

  Just as I stepped into the night and allowed myself a moment to enjoy a cool ocean breeze off the bay, I heard my name called out from somewhere behind me. I turned to see one of the guards approaching, and for a second I feared the governor had had a change of heart. I was unable to see the man’s face until he was three feet away and the light from a nearby oil lamp illuminated his rugged features. His eyebrows were dark and bushy and he had a mustache to match. There was no expression upon his face and I found myself reaching for my cutlass.

  “Captain Redd Reeves, Governor Winters requested that I deliver a message to you at once,” he said in a gravelly voice. He reached into his red coat and retrieved an envelope. I took it gently and examined the wax seal. It was the governors. What the devil is this? I just left the man…

  “Have a good evening, captain,” the guard said as he spun on his heel and strolled back into the bowels of
the stone building.

  “Well go ahead, let’s have a look,” Langley urged.

  I ripped the envelope open and removed the parchment inside. I scanned over the governor’s urgent message as quickly as I could, admiring the beautiful penmanship as I read.

  “Well, what does it say?” Gordon asked.

  I ignored him, immediately crumpled the parchment up in my fist, and made use of the nearby oil lamp mounted on the nearby sconce. Gordon and Langley looked on curiously as the document quickly disintegrated into ash.

  “Why in the blue hell did you burn it?” Gordon asked, bewildered.

  “I can’t explain yet, not here,” I replied in a whisper, even though no one else was around. “Besides, I have much more to tell you before we discuss what was on that parchment. Let’s find a more suitable place to talk, shall we?”

  I escorted Oliver Langley (who was not very happy about missing out on the night’s festivities) and Gordon Littleton to a tavern near the edge of town that overlooked the bay. The three of us entered the dining hall and settled on a small, candle-lit table in the corner of the scarcely populated room. The tavern, The Parrot’s Landing, was a well-known pirate hideout, but it would provide me the amount of seclusion I desired to brief Langley and Gordon on why we were being released and what was expected of us. Pirates are a superstitious bunch, but I conveniently left out the supernatural details of the ring we were after for two distinct reasons: First, I saw no reason to burden the men with a tale of the ring calling up the kraken and other demonic beings when I myself wasn’t completely sure the stories were true. And secondly, the notion of hunting down Captain Winston Trimble would probably scare them enough by itself. I underestimated the effect of the second reason.