Tales of Old Brigands Key (5 page)

"You
must understand, of course, that there will be an inquiry."

"Of
course."

"I
do not judge you for your survival. But tell me; what became of your
ship?"

"A
frightful series of events, sir. The
Kate
is a merchant vessel, of
course. We disembarked London for Buenos Aires, loaded with European finery, of
which the Argentines cannot get enough. Eleven days out, a ferocious storm took
us, rather by surprise. Before we could get the blasted sails reefed, the
mainmast had snapped. We had the second functional, and limped along. We
counseled Captain Dunham to return to London, but the man was stubborn to a
fault, a true British captain. He would not hear of it and insisted upon a
delayed arrival in Buenos Aires, whereupon we would refurbish the ship with our
earnings. But the fool took us into the horse latitudes, and we were becalmed
and adrift for endless days on a slack, still sea,
our
supplies running short."

A
soft rap came at the door. Sanborn looked up to see Emma peer in, and enter
with a tray of tea and milk. "I thought perhaps our guest could use
this," she said.

Sanborn
nodded. "Thank you. Leave it here." He glanced back at Millstone.

A
chill struck him.

Millstone
stared at Emma, his eyes suddenly alive and burning. He seemed oblivious to the
world, as if only two things existed, himself and Emma. Despite his frailty and
weakness, he no longer appeared the same man. The victim of numbing tragedy had
disappeared, replaced by—what?

Something
monstrous and voracious.

And
it had spotted prey.

Emma
froze in his glance, her eyes widening with terror. She turned quickly away and
fled the room.

Millstone
continued to stare in her direction, his breath quickening. At last he tore his
eyes away.

Sanborn
had seen enough. He was trembling with certain, sudden dread. "Sir, you
perhaps are still far too weak. No matter; you must leave. Now."

Feeble
as the man was, something flashed in his eyes, something dark and furious and
unfathomable,
something
from hell. The man seemed on
the edge of an uncontrollable rage. He trembled for long furious seconds.

It
passed as quickly as it had appeared.

"I
have no desire to remain, yet I shall leave when I am prepared to do so,"
Millstone said, his voice crackling dry and distant. His gaze drifted to the
window and to the waterfront nearby. "I left Whitechapel when I was ready,
not when
they
wished, those arrogant English pigs." He looked
suddenly back at Sanborn. His eyes narrowed. "Never
you
mind
," he said. "Perhaps I shall leave now, after all."

Sanborn's
mind raced, trying to piece things together. London.
Whitechapel
.
Millstone sailed from the world's greatest city at the close of 1888, just two
years before. At the time the great horror that had stalked the city's dark
slum suddenly ended.

Could
it be?

The
men aboard the
Kate
, all dead. Butchered like livestock, and eaten.

"A
first mate is a capable seaman," Sanborn said. "Albeit with great difficulty,
he could navigate and sail the damned ship all by himself. He would not be lost
and adrift forever."

"Ah,
so you presume I had a choice, then? That I could simply sail the stricken
Kate
confidently into the nearest port?"

"No
sir! I presume that your lies exceed your ingenuity. We have already
established that you were never the captain. I suspect you indeed were never
the first mate, nor any member of the crew. You were in fact a stowaway,
completely ignorant of seamanship. The nets of Scotland Yard drew ever closer,
and you were in desperate need of escape. The first exit you could find was a
vessel outward bound for anywhere. Once discovered, you were threatened with
servitude and delivery to the first British colonial jail, perhaps in Bermuda
or Jamaica. Rather than submit, you slaughtered the lot of them, and feasted
upon their remains to stay alive."

"Clever
man. Do you think it wise to be so clever with me?"

"Perhaps
not. But I shall see that you are brought to justice." Sanborn eased closer
to the door. "Emma! Go quick to the neighbors, fetch as many able men as
you can. We cannot let this devil leave."

Emma
entered the room, her face lined with worry. She glanced from one to the other.
"John, what is the matter?"

Sanborn
frantically motioned her away. "Just go and be quick, Emma!"

She
darted from the room.

A
sudden movement caught his eye. He whirled back to face the man that claimed to
be Millstone, but the man was upon him. A butcher knife had appeared in his
hand, slashing savagely. Sanborn dodged and reflexively threw an arm up to ward
off the blow. The blade sliced through his forearm, laying open his flesh to
the bone. Blood sprayed. Sanborn glanced at the wound; it was deep and blood
welled up and splashed to the floor in frightful quantity.

Sanborn
staggered back and the man, in spite of his extreme frailty, uncannily pressed
his attack, as though madness and bloodletting fueled him with inhuman
strength.

Sanborn
blindly seized the pitcher of water and struck back, smashing the man in the
face, shattering the pitcher. The man hissed, a line of blood appearing on his
cheek, and threw himself upon Sanborn, his knife rising for a blow. Sanborn saw
the blade and shot his hand out, seizing the man's wrist and pulling it
laterally across and between the two of them, so that the only course of the
next blow would be a weakened backhand. Sanborn struck the man with his free
fist, and again, and again.

The
man staggered.

Sanborn
felt his mind darkening, and dizziness took him. He stumbled to one knee, and
dimly realized that he had released the man.

The
creature now crept upon him, knife raised and ready, a diseased look in his
eyes, a look borne of a wretched, perverse soul.

Blackness
like a death shroud drew quickly in from the edges of the world.

*
* *

The
blackness became gray and then white. Warmth caressed Sanborn's face.

He
opened his eyes.

He
felt weak and drawn. He looked about; he was in his own bed, covers pulled up.
Golden sunlight angled from the window, the sunbeam kissing his face. A
cardinal sat chirping on the windowsill.

He
was alive.

He
drifted off again, and was roused by a click. He opened his eyes again. Emma
entered, carrying a tray of tea and soup and bandages.

She
saw that he was awake and a smile brighter than the morning sunlight lit her
face. "My darling, I nearly lost you." Tears welled in her eyes.

"Where...
is he?"

"Shush,
darling. There was no time to fetch help, so I ran to the parlor and withdrew
your pistol and got back just in time. That monster was poised over you, his
knife at your stomach. He stopped and turned to me. I've never seen such a look
in the face of a human being in my life. He came at me. I shot him twice, in
the shoulder and back. He fell away, swinging wildly with that wicked blade,
and bolted for the window and fell through, crashing through the branches of
the magnolia. I ran to the window and fired again, but could not get a clear
shot through the branches. Mister Fawcett and Mister Beckett arrived but he was
gone. A trail of blood led to the waterfront and there it ended."

"He…
fell into the channel?"

"We
don't know. He's just...
gone
."

Sanborn
sighed and closed his eyes again. He felt himself drifting again, and felt
Emma's delicate, loving hands on his face.

"You
have a letter from Boston," she said. "Shall I open it for you?"

He
was silent for a moment. "No. Toss it in the fire. Emma, my love, let's
turn the garden tomorrow, and begin the tomatoes. This will be a wonderful
year."

About the Author...

Ken Pelham lives
and writes in Maitland, Florida. His thriller,
Brigands Key
, won
first place in the Florida Writers Association's Royal Palm Literary Awards and
was published in hardcover in 2012 by
Cengage
/Five
Star Mystery.

The e-book
edition of
Brigands Key
was released in
Summer
, 2013.

Brigands Key
is "... a
perfect storm of menace... breathtaking!"

--
The Florida Weekly

His follow-up
novel,
Place of Fear
, also a first place winner of the Royal Palm
Literary Award, is coming to e-book publication in
Fall
,
2013.

More short
stories by Ken Pelham, available for e-readers on Amazon.com:

Treacherous
Bastards: Stories of Suspense, Deceit, and Skullduggery

Three stories, including
one about the little island of Brigands Key.

A
Double Shot of Fright: Two Tales of Terror

Two chilling
short stories guaranteed to cause loss of sleep.

Visit
Ken at
kenpelham.com
for updates on his
work, and musings on suspense fiction.