Port of Errors (10 page)

The brave officers attempting to fend off Black-Hearted and his men, opting to live, lowered their weapons and surrendered when they noticed what was going on. Offering Captain Blair to the enemy, his mutinous crew then placed him at Black-Hearted’s feet.

Within the silence of the surrender, Black-Hearted laughed bemusedly. “Looks to me you’ve lost the fight, Captain.”

“It’ll do you well to untie me and surrender!” replied Captain Blair. “Admiral Flynn will have you in chains for this. You’re a dead man!”

Kicking Captain Blair in the chin to shut him up, Black-Hearted stated, “Well then, I guess that settles it. Dead men have no need to surrender. They’re already dead.”

“We’ve no wish to continue,” interjected the sailor in the forefront. “We beg quarter, Sir! Blair’s yours! Quarter, we beg.”

Gunner pulled a pistol from his belt and cocked the doghead back, aiming the barrel at the crown of Captain Blair’s head. Stopping him from pulling the trigger, Black-Hearted specified that he didn’t want any blood to stain the uniforms any further than was necessary.
The prisoners were then placed in the cells below the English Pride.

As he was about to sail away, Black-Hearted thought about all the uniforms he stood to lose with every sailor that abandoned ship. Desperately splashing about in the shark-infested waters, several men were fresh with the smell of blood. Black-Hearted ordered his men to fish them out. As they were doing so, a few shrieks could be heard, as several bloodthirsty sharks thrashed about, ripping into living meat and bone. Blood spewed viciously from their open wounds. The sailors nearby each attack hollered out in a frantic panic to escape the horde’s deadly jaws.

Black-Hearted was able to save twenty-three men. He made sure to strip them down to their skivvies and stowed the garments, until it was time to put them to good use. As Black-Hearted sailed out toward a nameless and deserted island not found on any map, Roger’s Jolly followed close behind.

“Land Ho,” shouted the lookout after hours on due course.

Dropping anchor about a mile off shore, Black-Hearted forced all prisoners, with the exception of Captain Blair, to the main deck. “There be a first mate among you? Or has he gone the way of the sea? Speak up! Who be the first mate? Step forward.” Not one person moved in fear of what was to become of him. “Step forward or I’ll bleed every last one of you and feed you to the sharks.” Still no one moved or spoke a word. “Alright then, let’s have it your way, mates.” Black-Hearted unsheathed his machete, taking the closest prisoner by the arm and pulling him close.

Pleading from somewhere in the crowd for the prisoner in Black-Hearted’s grasp, one man broke the silence. “Please, Sir. Don’t do this. Have mercy. The first mate is with us, Sir. I swear it.”

“Then step forward or this man,
I swear it
, will be dead in the next twenty seconds.”

“I am first mate,” said a soft and humble voice. Stepping forward a few paces, to the forefront of his crew, was a slightly timid middle aged gentleman. Though he was trembling, he stood boldly with his chin up and head held high in an attempt to stay proud.

Black-Hearted thrust the prisoner he was holding back into the worried crowd of captives and then walked up to the first mate, standing an intimidating six or seven inches taller.

“I despise the Royal Navy and anyone taking part. I could kill you right now without a blink! The only reason you’re not dead is because your captain is a fool.”

“Please, Mr. Hearted, don’t kill me. I’m a just humble man. Please, Sir.”

“Well, that’ll depends, Mr. Wresfin.”

Black-Hearted forced the rest of the prisoners to jump ship and swim for the diminutive island. It looked as though there might be food enough to survive, but for how long, no one knew.

“Gunner, bring me Captain Blair,” commanded Black-Hearted.

“You’ll live so long as you do what I say,” said Black-Hearted, directing his mandate toward Mr. Wresfin. “But if you give me any trouble you’ll share the same fate as your captain.”

Captain Blair was brought to the main deck, where he caught sight of Edward Teach. “You’re pressing them into service pretty young these days aren’t you? Getting a bit desperate, I take it.”

“That boy is braver than any one of your men.”

“If you kill me, you’ll be hunted down like the dirty dog you are and hanged for certain.”

“If?” he replied, with a light chuckle. “In a few moments it won’t matter at all. You’ll already be dead.” Black-Hearted then ordered Gunner to prepare Captain Blair.

Seeing the predicament Captain Blair was in, Mr. Wresfin began to breathe more heavily and big drops of sweat ran down the side of his face from his brow. “I’ll do whatever you ask, Mr. Hearted.”

“You’re a worthless fool, Wresfin!” shouted Captain Blair.

Gunner smacked Captain Blair across the cheek. “Today you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut -
forever
. I can promise you that.”

Black-Hearted warned Mr. Wresfin, who was now in tears, “You now serve ‘board this vessel, my new flagship. I’ll name her
the Rogue
. You’re going to turn my crew into fine English officers over the next few weeks. If not, well then, take a gander at this here keelhaul and place your own boots upon it.”

Black-Hearted gave the go-ahead to Gunner with a simple nod of his head. “Keelhaul’m.”

Now terrified, Captain Blair shouted in a dreadful panic, “Wait, no, stop! I have a wife and children. Please! I do surrender the ship to you after all.”

“Like I said before,” replied Black-Hearted, “dead men have no need to surrender” he then laughed aloud, continuing, “They’re already dead.”

Gunner took Captain Blair and shoved him face-first against the mainmast and ripped the back shirt the entire length. The others, by Gunner’s side, tied his wrists and ankles together. Gunner secured Captain Blair’s limbs to a long rope, drawn underneath the ship from portside to starboard.

As this traumatic scene unfolded before Mr. Wresfin, he asked in a panic, “What are your intentions for this poor soul? No man is diservin’ o’ this.”

“Stop your cryin’,” grumbled Gunner.

Gunner was about to toss Captain Blair over the portside gunwale, when Edward Teach stepped in. “I may be young, but please allow me.”

Black-Hearted gestured on behalf of Edward’s request, allowing him to perform the deed.

“You don’t have to do this,” pled Captain Blair. “You’re still so young and you don’t need such a sin upon your head.”

“Such a sin?” questioned Edward in retort. “Captain, I’m a pirate. Sinning is what we do best. Innocence isn’t my strong point. I lost my way long ago.”

Immediately, Edward, a sizeable lad, took him by the legs and picked him up off the floor and over his shoulders. He then raised him above his head and tossed him overboard. All of Captain Blair’s frantic yells and screams could be heard.

Ten men on the starboard side pulled on the other end of the rope, forcing Captain Blair underneath the ship while still in motion upon the water. Instantly, the temperature of the water took effect. Captain Blair’s body quickly tensed and his lungs contracted, making it harder to keep his breath. As Captain Blair descended deeper, the sharp barnacles slowly tore through his bare skin. As he scrambled for breath, he released the remaining air from his lungs with a muffled scream. Twisted and torn, his body could no longer handle the stress of the massive keel against his back, which gradually broke. Captain Blair gave up and passed out. Under the keel’s continuous pressure, he simply gave up the ghost. His body was then hoisted back up to the main deck.

At the sight of Captain Blair’s distorted and mangled bloody body, Mr. Wresfin confessed, “I’m going to be sick. Please, have pity. I beg you Sir, quarter. I beg quarter. I’ll do whatever you ask, I swear it. I do.”

Captain Blair was untied and checked for signs of life. Stephen and Eric threw his torn and broken body over the bow, weighted with a large ball and chain tied to his ankles.

Gunner took Mr. Wresfin, who was now shaking in his boots, and threw him in a cell below deck. “You’d better pray you can please the captain.” Slamming the cell door, Gunner locked it shut and held on to the key.

Following Captain Blair’s execution, Darby O’Dell and a few other crewmen happened upon Edward’s popper hat.

“Watch this, mates,” said Darby mischievously, as he picked the hat up and tossed a few smoking matches in. He quickly handed the hat to Edward before the smoke could billow out. Edward just casually threw it on.

As the smoke swelled under his hat, Edward began to smell something funny. Confused about how it seemed to be following him and the strange looks he was receiving from his shipmates, he finally noticed from his peripheral and shouted, “My head!”

Darby and the others vigorously laughed as Edward jotted about in hysterics. Darby’s patronizing antics triggered something deep within Edward’s being. Unbeknownst to him, the pure exhilaration he felt from their earlier skirmish with the English Pride had filled his blood with such a thirst for more that he exploded into the monster he was meant to be. The billowing smoke exaggerated his deep-set eyes and, combined with his overpowering size and newfound rage, made Darby and the others a bit nervous. Edward used this newly found adrenaline based power to put Darby in his place.

Taking Darby by the collar, Edward lifted him up off his feet, suffocating him with his powerful grip. Stephen jumped on his back, but Edward just reached behind and threw him overboard with a single motion. Black-Hearted stepped up, cocked his pistol and shoved it deep into the center of Edward’s forehead, causing it to bleed slightly.

“Drop him or I’ll split your skull in two,” demanded Black-Hearted, who was still bigger and broader than Edward. “I can use a man like you – better alive than dead. And
dead
is not somethin’ I hesitate about.”

Edward dropped Darby to the deck without a word more. Darby stood up gasping for air and with a notable scowl, just walked away.

All hands were aboard the Rogue, as Roger’s Jolly sat empty, just off the starboard side. Black-Hearted was in need of a captain for Roger’s Jolly and he went to his trusted crew for a vote. “Who do you elect as captain o’er Roger’s Jolly? What say you?”

“Gunner!” shouted an anonymous crewman.

“Aye, Gunner” voiced another.

No one contested Gunner’s name, as he was unanimously voted in as Captain of Roger’s Jolly, but graciously declined. “I wish to continue under Captain Hearted as quartermaster aboard the Rogue, if it be granted me.”

Though proud to keep Gunner on a quartermaster, Black-Hearted was disappointed and turned again to his crew. “Choose you another!”

“I’ll not take it back,” replied Fischer. “You’re an Irish coward and a fool! Not a soul on this ship would be fool enough to cast a vote your way.”

“Shut your fool mouths!” intervened Black-Hearted. “Any other names be bid upon, make your nomination known.” The men stayed silent for a good minute. Without a reply, Black-Hearted demanded, “Then make your choice. Which is it to be, Darby or Aaron? All those for Darby, put your sword to the sky.” Several men made known their approval. “Alright then, all for Aaron?” Most of the crew raised their swords in opposition to the first vote. “Majority rules for Aaron! It’s done then. Captain Garrison, which man among these will be quartermaster on Roger’s Jolly?”

“Mr. Bones Henry’ll do just fine.”

Bones Henry had only been with Black-Hearted for nine months. Although he was a conniving individual, he was a great seaman and leader. Black-Hearted knew Bones would do well as quartermaster, but was more comfortable with Bones aboard Roger’s Jolly than his own ship.

“Bones Henry it is,” confirmed Black-Hearted.

Festering inside, Darby had enough and challenged Fischer with a drawn sword. “No good Irish, am I? You filthy English pig!”

Fischer stood his ground drawing out his own cutlass. “You dare challenge me
?
Well then, you really are a fool, aren’t you?”

“If it wasn’t for you,” assumed Darby, “I’d be Captain now!”

“Captain Garrison!” interrupted Black-Hearted. “Here be yur first test o’ captainship. What say you ‘bout this here dispute? The articles state that any dispute is to be settled in a manner befitting the dispute and the captain is to choose the manner in which it be settled. What say you ‘bout these two fools?”

After only a moment Captain Garrison made his first decision as Captain. “We’ll lay anchor at
Widow’s Reef
on our way to Port of Errors. The dispute will be settled there.”

Amid the outburst of favorable cheers, Gunner stated, “Aye, you’ll make a fine captain, indeed, Captain Garrison.”

Widow’s Reef was a broad mass of coral and rock, as flat as the sea and located where no other land was in sight. This reef could only be seen by the lookout in the crow’s nest. The reef was completely covered by the sea, rolling water over the jagged surface in swells as the sun beat relentlessly upon it.

Three hundred yards out from Widow’s Reef, the two ships dropped anchor. Darby and Fischer were taken by longboat to the far side of the reef and forced out at separate ends. Preparing each man with a small dagger, they were forced onto the reef without shoes.

Gunner offered a brief explanation. “The first man to reach the main deck of the Rogue will be allowed to rejoin their crew. The other will suffer a slow death on the reef, with no shelter, food, or fresh water. The surface of the reef is covered with razor sharp coral so watch your step.”