The Pirate Raiders (5 page)

  “Aye, it may,” he replied.  “Let’s get on with it.”

  “I suppose we can give the lady her own barrel as well,” said John. 

  “That won’t be necessary,” she replied.  “I will share a crate with Captain Redd.  Give Mr. Littleton his own barrel, he is injured and should be handled carefully.”

I was briefly taken aback when I heard that she wanted to share a crate with me.  “Andrea, are you sure you wouldn’t like your own—

“Captain, I will be just fine sharing a crate,” she snapped.  “Unless, of course, you are unwilling to share one with me.”

She stared at me with sparkling sky blue eyes and awaited my response.  

  “It’s settled then,” I said.  “Langley and Gordon will ride separately in their own barrels.  Andrea and I will share a crate.”

  “Very well,” said John, reaching for a barrel.  “Let’s hurry, time is precious.”

With the help of one of John’s most trusted employee’s, we were all sealed up in our containers and placed onto the back of a covered wagon in less than half an hour.  The crate Andrea and I were in was large enough for us to face each other.  We had our arms clasped around our legs, and knees pressed against our chests.  There was still a foot between us.  I removed my hat and it provided me enough room to move my head freely.  I knew we were finally on our way when the wagon lurched forward. 

  “Why did you rescue me?” Andrea asked abruptly from the pitch-black darkness.

It soon became apparent to me why she’d wanted to share a crate.  She had lots of questions.  That was okay though because I had my share of questions too.

  “I’m trying to find Captain Trimble,” I answered.  “I saved you from the gallows in hopes that you’d be able to provide me some sort of heading.”

  “Why are you trying to find my father?” she asked in a tone that had a subtle hint of anger attached to it.  Whether it was directed at me, or her father, was a mystery.

  “He’s got something that I want—a ring.”

There was a long silence.  The quiet seemed to suggest that Andrea knew exactly what I was talking about.

  “Do you know of the ring I’m speaking of?”

  “Yes, I know of King Solomon’s ring,” she replied.  “What do you want with it?”

  “I hear that the ring has extraordinary powers.  A man like Captain Trimble shouldn’t have that sort of power.”

Another long silence passed; then I heard a soft chuckle.

  “Is something funny?” I asked.

  “You’re a bloody privateer aren’t you?” she said, more anger in her voice.  This time I knew it was directed at me.  “The king hired you to get the ring back, didn’t he?”

There was no use in denying it.

  “Something like that,” I answered.  “But let’s be clear on this, I am no privateer.  I was told to retrieve that ring in exchange for my freedom.”

  “If you’re working under the king’s authority, you
are
a privateer,” she said. 

The wagon suddenly jolted hard and I felt the uncomfortable sensation of the crate bouncing into the air.  My head struck the wooden lid.  

Damn potholes
, I thought.

  “Okay, I’m a privateer then,” I conceded out of sheer annoyance.  I rubbed my aching skull.  “Can you help me find your father or not?”

  “Let’s assume that I do know where my father is.  Just what do you plan on doing when we find him?”

At that moment, I was very glad Andrea was unable to see me in the darkness of the crate.  There was probably a look of sheer stupidity on my face.  I really had no idea what I was going to do to stop a man with that sort of power at his disposal.  Reluctantly, I remained honest with her.

  “I honestly haven’t thought that far ahead,” I replied sheepishly.

Andrea began laughing wildly.  The cackle that erupted from her lips was almost scary and for a moment, in the darkness, she seemed exactly what one would imagine the daughter of Captain Winston Trimble to be. 

  “That’s what I thought you were going to say,” she said, snorting through laughter.      “There can only be two reasons you would go after my father so blindly.  Either you’re the bravest pirate that ever lived, or the stupidest one.  Tell me, Captain Redd, which one are you?”

I bit my lip in an effort to refrain from saying something I would regret.  I needed Andrea’s help and now she knew it.  As angry as I was, I held back the barrage of curses begging me to unleash them.

  “Andrea,” I said with disciplined grace.  “Do you know where your father is or not?”

She sighed and pondered the question for a moment before she spoke.

  “I do not,” she said finally. “But I know where to find men that will probably be able to give us a heading.”

  “Well that’s wonderful,” I said with relief.  “Where do we find them?”

  “New Providence is teeming with pirate captains who knew my father and…,” her words trailed off as if something had just occurred to her.  “I have an idea,” she said suddenly.

  “Let’s hear it then.”

  “If you’re going to get that ring from my father, you’re going to need a bargaining chip,” she said.

My eyebrows arched.  It seemed now we were finally making progress.  “Go on.”

  “There is an old man that lives in New Providence.  He will most likely have a rough idea on my father’s whereabouts,” she said.  “He is also probably the only man alive that knows where my father buried a chest containing his most important possession.”

  “A chest,” I said, suddenly more interested.  “A chest containing
what
important possession?”

  “I do not know exactly what is in the chest,” she admitted.  “But I know that whatever it is my father has gone to great lengths to keep its location hidden.  If we could find it, it may be just what we need to bargain with him.”

My mind began to flood with thoughts of what could be in such a chest.  Was it gold?  Jewels?  Or could it be something more sinister?

  “Okay,” I said. “That sounds like a wonderful plan, but why do you think that this man would give up the location of the chest to us?”

  “He will give up the location to
me
,” she corrected.  “And he’ll do it because he is my uncle.  If I tell him that my father is in danger and is in need of the chest…well, it just might be enough.”

  “Are you saying this old man is Captain Trimble’s brother?”

  “Yes, his elder brother,” she replied.  “His name is Morgan Trimble.  Have you ever heard of him?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” I said.

  “He sailed under Captain Kidd on the
Adventure Prize
in the late 1600’s.  He was a fearsome pirate, one of the few who escaped before Kidd was arrested.  His age is what finally did him in.  He gave up that life—well, to a point anyway,” she said.  “I mean, he
did
choose to live out his final days in a pirate haven.”

  “Alright, as soon as the sloop is ready to go we’ll set sail for New Providence,” I said. 

The wagon suddenly came to an abrupt halt. 

  “Finally,” I grumbled.  “My knees are beginning to ache.”

Unfortunately, it suddenly became apparent that we had not arrived at the ship as I had hoped.  I could hear talking near the front of the wagon, but it was too muffled to make out what was being said.

  “Soldiers have stopped the wagon,” Andrea said suddenly. 

  “Can you hear them?” I asked.

  “Yes, they’re asking Mr. Copperton about his cargo.”

  “What is he saying?” I asked, frustrated that she could hear and I could not.

  “He’s telling them that he’s headed for the docks with it,” she replied.  “The soldiers are telling him that they are searching for an escaped fugitive and they need to search the wagon.”

  “That’s just wonderful,” I whispered through clenched teeth.  I grabbed my pistol and drew back the hammer. 

Andrea heard the gun
click
as I readied the weapon.

  “Are you mad?” she hissed.  “We don’t even know how many soldiers are out there!”

  “I’m just getting prepared,” I replied.  “John is a clever man.  I’m betting he’ll find a way out of this.”

The soldiers made their way to the back of the wagon and suddenly I could hear them quite well.  Unfortunately, I realized that this meant they would be able to hear us easily as well. 

  “What are the contents of the containers?” I heard a man’s commanding voice call out.

  “I already told you.  There is cider, sugar, spices and a mixture of fruits and vegetables,” John replied firmly.

There was a brief silence and I could hear someone climb up into the wagon.

  “Mr. Copperton,” the soldier continued.  “Would you mind if we check the contents for ourselves.”

  “As a matter of fact I would,” John replied angrily.  “Are you suggesting that I am lying sir?”

  “We are merely being thorough,” the soldier countered.  “It would be wise of you to stay out of the way.”

I cringed as I heard the soldier speak the words.  It was clear that he didn’t know John Copperton very well.

  “Sir, do you have any idea who I am?” John asked.

  “Mr. Copperton, I must confess I do not and that is precisely why I want to search your wagon,” the soldier replied, agitated.  “You sir, are apparently unaware of who I am as well.  I’m here under the authority of Governor Winter’s and you would—

  “I am a close acquaintance of the governor!” John snarled.  “I will be sure to tell him how I was treated tonight as soon as the sun comes up.”

The soldier seemed unaffected by the threat.

  “Mr. Copperton, I am going to ask you once more to voluntarily let me verify that the fugitive isn’t in this wagon and if you refuse I will do so by force.”

  “And I’m going to warn you one more time to get back on your horse and leave me be laddie,” John growled. 

  “Very well, have it your way,” the soldier said. 

I could clearly make out the sound of metal sliding from leather.

  “Put that pistol away at once!” John shouted. 

My heart rate picked up and it took all the restraint I could muster to keep from bursting from the crate.  The feeling of helplessness I’d felt hours earlier when I was in shackles suddenly crept back into mind.  Andrea was deadly quiet. There was virtually nothing either of us could do.  Suddenly, a thunderous
boom
tore through the night air. 

Why was this man firing his bloody weapon?  Had he shot John?

There was a brief moment of silence before I got my answer.

  “Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” John huffed.  “You put a nice round hole in a perfectly good barrel of cider.”

Now I could make out the sound of liquid chugging swiftly from a barrel and spattering all over the road beneath the wagon.  Fortunately, it seemed the soldier chose a barrel to shoot that did not contain Gordon or Langley.  I held my breath and hoped it was enough for them to let John go.

  “Mr. Copperton,” the soldier said.  “I thank you for your cooperation, you may move along.”

  “Governor Winters will hear about this young man,” John said.  “You will pay for the barrel of cider you just ruined.”

The soldier kept his calm demeanor and again ignored the threat.

  “Mr. Copperton, if you see or hear anything regarding the escaped prisoner, I trust you will tell the authorities immediately,” was the reply.

  Moments later the rhythmic sound of multiple horses galloping away was followed by a loud sigh of relief from Andrea. 

  “
That
was too close,” she said.

  “Aye, it certainly was,” I replied. 

John returned to the front of the wagon and we were moving again.  The rest of the short trip was uninterrupted.  When we arrived at the docks, John had two of his men transport all of the barrels and crates below the deck of the sloop Governor Winters had promised me.  It was only then that we were safe enough to come out of hiding.  Once I was out, I stood and stretched my arms.  We had been bottled up a lot longer than we’d planned. 

I peered over at Langley.  The lantern that hung overhead wasn’t very bright, but it provided just enough light for me to make him out.  He was seated on a water cask and massaging both knees. 

  “That’s something I’d rather not do ever again, Cap’n,” he said.

  “Me either.”  I turned to John.  “You handled those soldiers beautifully.”

  “Did I?” he asked wearily.  “I’m not so sure.  That young pup could’ve easily put a shot into one of you three and there would have been nothing I could’ve done to stop it.”

  “You did well,” Andrea assured him.  “We’re all here alive.  That’s the important thing.”  She leaned toward him and kissed him on the cheek.  “Thank you, John.”

It was a shame that the light was so dim; I would’ve enjoyed seeing the old man’s face.  I could hear the delight in his voice.  He suddenly didn’t sound so weary anymore.