Port of Errors (14 page)

“Begin’ your pardon Sir, but he was too drunk to walk. Though, he still sits at the tavern. A few of the other men are holding him there, awaiting your visit.”

Keeping a tight ship, Captain Stirvin persisted, “See to it that any man arriving after six this evening is logged in at the time of arrival. I’ll deal with these men myself.” Then turning his attention to the situation with Mr. Wresfin, Captain Stirvin ordered Mr. Hall to lead the way.

When Captain Stirvin and Mr. Hall walked in to The Boars Milk, Mr. Wresfin was patiently waiting with Royal and Brent. Approaching the table, Captain Stirvin wasted no time. Mr. Wresfin quickly stood at attention and saluted, though his balance was thrown and he immediately fell back into his seat.

“Mr. Wresfin,” began Captain Stirvin. Upon noticing the black heart brand on the back of his hand in his sloppy backward salute, Captain Stirvin asked, “May I inquire about the mark on your hand?”

“The pirate Black-Hearted; this is his mark! Though I must admit, ‘twas a better fate than that of Captain Blair. Keelhauled he was.
Dead
. ”

“Black-Hearted killed Captain Blair? What of his crew?”

Just then Edgardo and Gabriel waltzed into the tavern and sat at a nearby table.

“That Black-Hearted, he’s a cunning one, Sir,” confessed Mr. Wresfin in a drunken slur. “He commandeered our good vessel after marooning all the men, save one – poor Captain Blair, rest his soul. Black-Hearted intends to use the English Pride in the Queen’s name. Aye, he’s plotting for something all right, you can count on that; somethin’ wicked, he does. I overheard him say he planned to attack a certain Spanish vessel while she sailed in English waters.”

“A Spanish ship?” wondered Captain Stirvin, determining, “His intention is to pursue la Real.”

“Yes, I’m sure of it,” replied Mr. Wresfin, too drunk to really be sure of it. “If you hurry up, you can catch Black-Hearted. He can’t be too far. He’s still here on Port of Errors. These fine sailors,” he continued, gesturing sloppily toward Mr. Hall and Royal, “they can show you. They’ve been here on Port of Errors this whole time.”

Captain Stirvin looked to Mr. Hall and Royal, wondering curiously. “Where did you find this man?”

“Right here, Captain,” replied Mr. Hall. “We were just walking in to have one last pint before reporting for duty.”

Just then Mr. Wresfin regurgitated a mouthful of chunky liquid all over the floor at his feet. “Oh, exude me... excludes me… ex… I think I feel a little sick. Keeper!” He shouted, “Another pint if you please. I accidentally spilt my last drink!”

Captain Stirvin respectfully thanked Mr. Wresfin, adding, “You’ve done a great deed for your country. You’ll be hearing from me soon. Good day.”

“No, you’re mistaken, indeed, Sir. That piece-of-eight was a gift. You’ll pay for your own, thank you very much.” Mr. Wresfin could do nothing but sit and sulk. He picked up the empty mug in front of him and tried licking it clean.

As Captain Stirvin and the others headed back to the ship, Edgardo and Gabriel caught up with them. Edgardo thoughtfully suggested, “Mi Capitan, forgive us for eavesdropping, pero we know that Black-Hearted has a close compañero, goes by the name of Shaw – Scurvy Shaw
.
He might prove to be very helpful.”

“Pero, Capitan,” replied Edgardo, “it is rumored that Scurvy Shaw has una niña, a daughter, who resides on Port of Errors, solamente.”

“Abducting a woman to bring aboard my ship, this is your advice? Women are a curse to any vessel where only men are found. There is no place in battle for woman.”

“But, Capitan,” argued Edgardo, “this may be the only way to locate Black-Hearted.”

“We will locate la Real and stop Black-Hearted,” finalized Captain Stirvin. “However, if we are unable to prevent this attack I might be so inclined as to
discuss
such a route. Until then, do not ask me again.”

By this time, the Rogue and Roger’s Jolly had set sail. Black-Hearted was in a serious hurry to get things underway and attack la Real, knowing Mr. Wresfin had escaped Port of Errors and could have already gotten word out. Fuming mad, Black-Hearted swore to find and punish Mr. Wresfin, especially if he brought to light his dark plan. But, until he could complete this plan, he couldn’t dwell too long on someone as trifle as Mr. Wresfin.

They reached a small island called Raven Bridges, which was actually a cluster of five inlets grouped closely together. In the center sat the main inlet with two arches extending outward, east and west. The west arch pierced the waterline, forming a broad reef.

The roar of the crashing waves echoed loudly through the arches. From a distance on the horizon, Raven Bridges had the appearance of a giant bird of prey, as the booming roar of the rumbling waves echoed through the arches, voicing her call.

Black-Hearted ordered Captain Garrison, “Drop anchor and await my return. We have only one English flag and enough uniforms for one crew. With such a wealthy load, la Real will be sure to run if she suspects anything.”

Black-Hearted and his crew dressed themselves in the uniforms taken from Captain Blair’s men. They stripped the Rogue of all outward pirate indication and quickly sailed for the waters bordering Spain and England, in search of la Real.

A bombastic old colonial fool named George Hutchins, better known as Captain George, managed la Real.

Captain George had been living in the American Colonies for the past fifteen years and moved to Spain upon Don Reina’s invitation. Don Reina met the captain while visiting the Americas a few months prior and felt that his wild nature and undaunted spirit would do well aboard la Real.

Black-Hearted, looking quite dapper in his tightly fitted uniform, soon sighted a large mast on the horizon. Knowing la Real was a slow-moving vessel and could not sail windward very fast; Black-Hearted was able to position himself for the imminent raid.

The firepower from la Real’s undisclosed number of cannons made this task much more difficult to gage. However, nothing could stop Black-Hearted from his scheming appetite for vengeance.

Nearing, they spied a Spanish flag waving about her mainmast.

The trick worked and the men aboard la Real were fooled into believing that the Rogue truly was frigate in possession of England’s Royal Navy.

“Raise the Queen’s colors,” ordered Black-Hearted. “Be proud, me hearties!”

Without warning, but not in position for a full broadside attack, Black-Hearted called the order to fire her cannons. Sporadically firing, several cannons bellowed forth in shocking terror.

La Real was loaded with heavy firepower and was not about to yield.

As the two ships came within yards of each other, Black-Hearted gave the order, “Forward the guns for broadside blast!” Sixteen starboard cannons were pushed into position within the gunwale and gundeck. “Fire,” he shouted.

It was a damaging blow to la Real’s portside hull. The thunderous roar of the ominous blast sent several men flying through the air, a few of which ended up in the water between the two large vessels. At this point, an hour-long battle was initiated.

Thick black smoke billowed from both ships, turning the afternoon sky into night within minutes. Knowing salt would put out flames and soak up the expected blood, Gunner commanded the men, “Salt the decks, ya fools!”

Don Reina hid below deck while his crew readied to board the Rogue. When the roar of the cannons ceased, a few seconds of pure silence prevailed. Soon the clanking sounds of grappling hooks reverberated against the gunwales of the Rogue. Pulling the Rogue closer, the two ships clashed violently, causing the men in the water between the ships to gradually drown.

As the ships came together, the formation of the crew on the main deck of the Rogue wasn’t perfect, but mimicked that of English forces. Although it left a bad taste in his mouth, Black-Hearted cried out, “Long live Queen Anne!”

Several men ran to the edge of the gunwale shouting the same, adding, “For Queen and Country!” and “God save the Queen!”

As the battle raged on, Stephen, Gunner and Eric found an unmanned area of la Real and climbed aboard. They found Captain George nearly alone on the quarterdeck reloading his pistol and shouting orders, unaware that the three pirates had boarded.

Gunner quickly subdued Captain George, who was quite small and skinny, while Stephen made a noose and slipped it around the captain’s neck. With the other end of the rope in his mouth, Eric being a very large man climbed the aft mast. A few of Captain George’s men ran to the quarterdeck to contend with Gunner and Stephen. Gunner thumped Captain George in head, knocking him out cold.

Eric continued on until he reached the main yardarm. Several steel balls grazed the mast by his head. “Look out, you’re going to kill someone!” he exclaimed.

Now standing on the yardarm, Eric took the rope from his mouth and tied a small loop, placing both hands through, to insure his hold wouldn’t slip as he clung tight to the rope just above the knot.

Captain George came-to and glanced up at Eric. “No!” he cried, feeling the other end around his neck. Suddenly Eric stepped off the yardarm bringing his hands close to his chest, while holding tight to the rope. The battle seemed to take a brief pause, as Eric descended toward the main deck.

Captain George’s fearful cry came to an immediate stop, but was replaced by an awful gurgling moan, when his body was abruptly jerked off the ground by his neck. At the same time, Eric’s descent quickly began to decelerate as his hands were yanked above his head when the rope promptly became tot from the stress and weight of Captain George’s body verses his own. Unable to bring his hands back down as he dropped through the air, Eric groaned with an agonizing pain when Captain George’s ascent unexpectedly angled toward his groin and connected. Counter balancing one another, Eric and Captain George came to rest high above the main deck. Complete silence engulfed the unbelievable scene, as Captain George’s body kicked and convulsed about, slowly strangling.

With his bloodstained machete in hand, Black-Hearted stood over Captain George’s fallen First Mate. No other figure of authority was left standing on the side of la Real, prompting her crew to abandon ship in the few remaining longboats.

Eric was now dangling above the main deck in tears. Just within reach of Eric’s head, Captain George’s legs kicking wildly in reaction to his dying nervous system. But with his hands still tied up above his head, he could do nothing but anticipate each blow in frustration.

Black-Hearted, still in uniform and character along with his men, gave no real chase, allowing Captain George’s crew to escape. Firing on them only twice, he convinced them that they managed to escape on their own. Black-Hearted had to make sure they spread word of his assault as a blatant English attack.

“Will someone please help me down!” yelled Eric.

Black-Hearted cut the rope with one quick swipe of his machete. Eric fell a ways down to the deck on his back, only to be smacked in the face by Captain George’s loose fist and a knee to his groin, knocking him out completely.

The ship was completely free of Captain George’s crew. However, Don Reina was yet aboard, still hiding from the massive onslaught and unaware of what had transpired topside.

Black-Hearted immediately ordered his men, “Loot her to the bilge and set her ablaze! We’ll leave her ashes for proof of the deed.”

Darby O’Dell questioned with a pleading tone, “But she’s a keeper, with hardly a damage ‘bout her face. She’s clean through, Hearted. Grant me be captain under your jack. A third ship in your own fleet.”

“She’ll stay where she sits and burn until only ash and charred remains are afloat. We’ll not make the mistake of keeping her with us as proof of the truth.”

Soon after the booty was gathered, flames raced upward from the bilge and through the corridors, violently lashing out from every side. The mainsail disappeared as it rolled upward into itself, vanishing into ash. A loud crackling sounded through the blaze as the timbers combusted, shooting out shards of cinder with every
snap
and resounding
pop
. Climbing the riggings and masts, the fire grew until the ship was completely engulfed in the destructive conflagration.

Standing on the quarterdeck by Black-Hearted, Darby noticed someone running through the flames. His jaw hung low as he hypnotically stated in his thick Irish accent, “’Tis a bloomin’ banshee.”