The Pirate Raiders (14 page)

Chapter 11
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I’ve never considered myself to be very religious, which I’m sure has a great deal to do with why I’d been so skeptical about the tales Governor Winters had told about King Solomon’s ring and the incredible stories of Captain Trimble using it to control the kraken.  Having said that, when I think of heaven only one sort of place comes to mind:  New Providence. 

During my heavenly daydreams, I dreamt of lying in a hammock on the beach while the damp, fanning breeze that rolled in from the crystal clear sea kept me cool.  The only place on earth I knew of to fit the bill so perfectly was New Providence.  It was the ultimate pirate haven and any pirate that wished to retire in paradise almost certainly chose it to live out their final days.  It was the site that Andrea’s uncle, Morgan Trimble, had chosen. 

The water surrounding the island was shallow, so a large ship had to drop anchor a great distance from shore.  This inconvenience was part of what made the island such a good hide out for pirates.  An English war ship would be unable to sneak up and make a surprise attack.  When
Neptune’s Castle
arrived during the morning, Andrea and I took a long boat to shore so that we would have plenty of time to search for Morgan Trimble and question him on the whereabouts of the mysterious chest that Andrea said would be the “bargaining chip” we would need to have a chance against her father.  Ricardo La Salle’s ship would also be arriving soon and I left instructions with Gordon and Langley to inform him of our whereabouts and bring him up to speed on our immediate plans.  Robert Lynch was also instructed to allow portions of the crew to spend a couple of hours at port in shifts; for it was my hope that we would be ready to set sail again before the sun set. 

The town seemed unusually quiet when we arrived, but then I remembered what time of day it was.  Most of the pirates were probably hung over and sleeping off their drunkenness from what was undoubtedly a wild night before.  When I took the time to look around, there was a great deal of evidence of this as there seemed to be passed out (or dead) pirates sprawled out somewhere in every alleyway.  Even the docks were strangely quiet.  There were way too many fishing boats still docked for that particular time of the morning.   

I followed Andrea to a large tavern near the corner of town.  I’d been to New Providence many times, but somehow I’d never had the pleasure of drinking in this particular establishment.  A weathered, wooden sign hung over the front door.  Chipped, blue paint over a white background displayed three scrawled words:  The Blue Dolphin.  There was even a faded drawing of a blue dolphin under the arched words.  

We entered the building and once inside, it seemed that the previous night of hard living had taken its toll on many of The Blue Dolphin’s patrons.  There were pirates sleeping on top of tables, and some were even lying underneath them.  The few that were awake were cradling their sore heads and I wasn’t sure if the soreness they seemed to be experiencing was from a hard night of drinking or fighting.  I was not about to ask either.  Despite the gloomy setting, there was still a young fellow in the corner of the room sitting upon a stool.  There was a large hat upon his head with what appeared to be a peacock feather protruding from the band.  He was strumming on a stringed instrument a melody far too joyous for the current mood in the room, and underneath his thin mustache, there was a toothy smile that seemed just as out of place.  No one seemed to be paying him any mind.  

Andrea marched straight to the bar and when the bartender noticed her approaching, I saw something in his eyes that I wasn’t expecting.  He suddenly seemed very nervous.  He recognized her and did not seem to be thrilled to see her.  The bartender was a short, portly man.  He was bald, save the horseshoe band of dark brown hair that wrapped around the sides and back of his head.  He, like the musician, had a mustache, but his was much fuller and it seemed to take the attention off of the top of his shiny, bald head.  He wore a blue cotton shirt that matched the color of the dolphin on the outdoor sign, and a white apron over the top of that.  Andrea opened her mouth to speak to him, but it was I that spoke first.  I took a seat at the bar and promptly ordered a drink. 

“Bartender, I’ll have a glass of your finest win, sir,” I declared as I slapped a piece of eight down on the counter top.

The bartender quickly filled my request and my golden coin disappeared with a swipe of his hand.  He then turned his attention back to Andrea.  She in turn was still looking at me, annoyance all over her face.  I returned a smirk and then took a pull from the glass in front of me. 

“How are you, Willie?” she asked the bartender in a cheerful tone that sounded forced.

“Doing quite well…busy, but well,” he replied calmly.  “Can I get you a drink, Andrea?”

She shook her head.  “No, not here to drink, Willie,” she said.

Willie wiped his hands on his apron and then took a seat behind the counter.  He then reached underneath the counter and I noticed Andrea’s right hand move quickly to her pistol.  Willie saw the gesture too and he swiftly returned his hand to the top of the counter again.  In said hand, Willie clutched a green bottle by the neck.  Andrea relaxed and watched as he worked the cork out and proceeded to pour himself a drink.  Then, with a shaky hand, he put the cup to his lips.  After his thirst had been quenched, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said, “So how can I help you today, Andrea?”

“I’m looking for my uncle,” she replied. 

Willie seemed taken aback.  “You don’t know where he is?”

Andrea smiled sheepishly, but only for a moment.  “I haven’t been the best niece, Willie,” she answered, and then her mood turned serious.  “Do you know where he is or not?”

Willie shook his head.  “I’m sorry, but I do not.  However, I believe that gentleman over there may be able to assist you,” he said, pointing to darkened corner of the room. 

I could see the figure of a man—an old man—seated in that darkened corner, but it was impossible to make out anything else about him. 

“There are no ‘gentlemen’ to be found in this establishment,” Andrea replied.  “Who is he?”

“That there is one of the meanest scallywags in all of New Providence,” Willie replied.  “He’s not one to trifle with.”

“He’s an old man,” Andrea said, dismissing any notion that he could be dangerous.  “Does he have a name?”

“Aye, I’m sure he does, but all anyone ever calls him is ‘The Captain’.”

I squinted my eyes in a futile attempt to get a better look at the mysterious old man.  Now my own curiosity was peaked.  “So how exactly do you know that this man is dangerous?” I asked, sliding my now empty glass over to Willie.

He reached for the bottle of wine again and looked my way.  When I shook my head he returned the bottle under the counter and then wiped down the counter where my glass had been sitting. 

“I’m a bartender, sir,” he replied to me.  “I don’t just pour drinks.  I’m a professional listener.  I listen when people have no idea that I’m listening.  I’ve heard plenty of stories about The Captain.  He’s a former pirate captain and one of the meanest there ever was.”

“Well if he’s a former pirate captain then surely he knows my father,” Andrea said. 

“Aye, he definitely knows your father,” Willie said quickly.  “And I strongly suggest you don’t tell him that you’re Winston’s daughter!”

“I don’t understand, why not,” I asked.

“No, he’s probably right,” Andrea answered.  “There aren’t many people that are friends with my father.”

“No, you’re not following me,” Willie said.  “He has a history with your father.  He despises your father.  There’s a lot of bad blood there.”  Willie paused a moment in thought.  “Come to think of it, it’s probably not a good idea for you to go and speak to him at all.  I’ll find someone else that may know the whereabouts of Morgan.”

“No,” I said abruptly.  “That won’t be necessary.  I’ll go talk to him.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Andrea said.  “I can speak for myself.”

She turned to walk toward the old man but I grabbed her by the arm.

“Don’t be a bloody fool,” I snapped.  “Take a seat at the bar and give me five minutes.”

Andrea looked down at my hand on her arm and I saw that familiar flash of anger.  I gently released her arm before it got worse.  She then turned her attention back to the old man, and then back to me again.  “Okay,” she agreed.  “I suppose it could cause a scene if he discovered who I was.”

“Right, and we don’t need the attention.  Give me five minutes and then we’ll be on our way.”

She nodded, and then said, “Before we go any further with this I need you to understand that you cannot go with me to confront my uncle.”

“Why the devil not?”

“I don’t have to give you any reasons, Redd,” she replied.  “He’s my uncle and I prefer to discuss the matter of my father alone with him.  However, if you must know, he is not going to tell me where my father’s chest is with you there.  He does not know you and will not trust you.”

“And suppose he doesn’t want to give you the whereabouts of the chest.  You said yourself that the only other man that knows its location is your uncle.  What if you ask him about the chest and he reacts in a way that you do not expect?  What if he reacts violently?”

“He is my uncle you scug,” she snapped.  “If you’re making these assumptions based on the behavior of my father, then you are mistaken.”

“Alright, so what will you do if he refuses to tell you where the chest is?” I asked. 

“Then I’ll persuade him,” she replied with an icy stare.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” said Willie suddenly.  “But The Captain seems to be leaving.”

Andrea and I both looked around just in time to see the old man disappear out the door. 

“Give me five minutes,” I told Andrea as I retreated after him.

I charged into the street outside.  It was beginning to get noticeably busier than it was when Andrea and I had first arrived.  I spotted the old man moving quickly down the street and then abruptly dart around a corner into an alleyway.  I, rather carelessly, jogged after him and once I’d entered the alleyway I soon realized just how careless I’d been.  The old man was standing before me with his pistol pointed straight toward my chest.  He was tall and dressed in all black.  He had a large hat with a wide brim pulled down low on his face.  I could just barely make out his eyes in the shadows.  The long coat he wore looked expensive and he had a black cape draped across his back. 

“Take it easy, mate,” I said in a voice just above a whisper.  “I mean you no harm; I just wanted to ask you a question.”

The old man cackled and there was nothing friendly about his laugh.  His eyes narrowed and he took a step forward.  “Do you think I’m a fool, Redd?  You’ve come to kill me…that’s why you’re here.  I may be old now but I still have me wits.  Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you and that pretty blonde lass plotting at the bar?  I watched the whole thing.  I caught the two of you watching me.”

For a moment I was very confused.  The man seemed to know who I was and his erratic behavior and movements suggested that he even feared me…but why?  I bit my lip as I concentrated hard on the man’s face.  The more I looked the more it seemed there was something vaguely familiar about my assailant.

“Old man, have you gone daft?” I asked.  “Although you look slightly familiar, I do not know who you are.  Tell me your bloody name so that I may make some sense out of this predicament.”

The old man moved his head in such a way that I got my first good look at his eyes.  They were yellowed from scurvy, but more interesting than that, I could see the bewilderment in them as well.  He seemed surprised that I did not recognize him and I assumed he was mulling over even telling me his name.  I kept waiting for a moment in which he would lower his weapon, but the moment never came.

“You truly don’t know who I am, lad?” he asked.

I shook my head.  “I’m sorry sir but I do not.  Me and the pretty lass you spoke of came into the tavern looking for someone.  We asked the bartender and he directed us to you.  That’s why we were watching you.”

“I see,” the old man said, and he seemed to relax a bit.  However, the pistol remained pointed directly at me.  “Well, who are you looking for?”

“A man named Morgan Trimble.  He sailed under Captain Kidd and after he escaped the gallows he settled down here.”