The Pyrate Page 10

  “Must have been something,” Cooper remarked. The three men were so hysterical, he found himself laughing with them.

  Taking a swig from the bottle, Banty still laughing, was able to get out, “Tell 'em, Johannes.”

  It took a couple of attempts but Johannes got control of himself and told the story. “The captain was playing poque with Joseph Gaspiralli. He’s a pirate who hangs around off the Gulf coast of Florida. Well, Joseph had some good cards but was short so he couldn’t make the pot. He thought the captain was bluffing. So Joseph says, ‘Eli, you’re bluffing but I ain’t got the coin to call you, unless you’re willing to let me use this parrot to even up the pot.’ Well, they’d known each other for a while and had always got along and were on friendly terms. So the captain allows Joseph to use the parrot to make up what he was short in the pot. Now, the captain had four of a kind and that beat Joseph’s two pair. So, the captain now had a parrot. Thought it made him more seaman like to own such an exotic bird. The parrot’s name was Salty. He was a nasty mouthed, umgh…who ever taught that bird to talk was a foul mouthed something. Captain wouldn’t even take him around Miz Russell. Damn bird would see a woman and say, ‘Mutton, fine piece of mutton.’ He’d also say, ‘Damme, what catheads, look what catheads.’”

  Banty interrupted and said, “Catheads means tits.”

  “Hush Banty,” Moree said. “They know that. Ain’t everyone who’s dumb as you.”

  Johannes waited for the others to hush and then he continued, “That wasn’t all the bird would say. He had Turner hopping one time squawking out, ‘Weigh anchor, weigh anchor’, and then he would follow that with ‘Move your arse.’ It happened on a night like this but we were underway, the captain’s door was flung open with a bang and the captain came running out just a cussing Rooster. Right behind the captain, Salty come flying out and landed on a ratline. Fact is, Banty was about to go up to take his watch. As Salty flew out the cabin he was just a squawking, ‘Who shat, who shat, awk…who shat.’ He landed on the ratline and his little claws closed around it and one more time he squawked, ‘who shat.’ He no more got who shat out of his mouth than he twisted his little head around and said, ‘I’m dead’ and damned if he didn’t just fall still holding on to the ratline but his head was pointing to the deck. Banty took hold of him and the captain looked at his parrot and shouted at Rooster, ‘Damn you, Rooster, damn you. You have the vilest wind of any human I’ve ever met. Now your stinking winds done killed my bird. I ought to keel haul you.’”

  “He died,” Mac asked.

  “We thought he was dead, but Banty was rubbing on the little bugger’s chest and he came around. “

  “What happened to him?” Cooper asked.

  “We were right here at Barataria one night when Gambi yelled at some wench. She was petting Salty and when Gambi shouted like he did; the bird flew up in a tree. We couldn’t coax him down and the next morning Salty was gone. Captain said if Salty didn’t want to be around Gambi that was reason enough for us to keep away from him and his kind. Of course, the captain told Gambi face up if he found out he’d done mischief to his bird he’d get him another parrot and its first meal would be Gambi’s liver.”

  “Strong words,” Cooper said.

  “Aye,” Johannes replied, “but the captain meant it. He figures it was Gambi who sicked LaRoche on you, Cooper. Of course, he was a dead man time he stopped at your table, he just didn’t know it. Had you not run him through, the captain would have blasted him.”

  “But I would have been just as dead,” Cooper said.

  “Aye, there’s that,” Banty acknowledged for the others. “But your ghost would have rested well knowing your killing had been revenged.”

  Grabbing the rum, Cooper took a long pull and swallowed hard. “Well, that’s right comforting, Banty, I’m sure my ghost appreciates it.”

  ***

  Belle had fixed a lunch of fried catfish, warmed over breakfast biscuits that were served with butter and honey. Fish, shrimp, and crawfish seemed to be a staple around Cindy’s place.

  “It’s cheap and there’s plenty of it,” Gus said smacking his lips over the honey and biscuits.

  When there weren’t a lot of guests, Belle, Gus, and Jumper would eat at the kitchen table with Cindy. Cooper and Mac had become more like family or at least like regulars so nothing special was laid out. That morning Cooper had accompanied Gus as he took care of the small grove of orange trees he had planted.

  “It ain’t no regular grove,” Gus admitted, “but it was worth a try. Our weather ain’t that much different than Florida; only it’s a might colder in the winter. I’ll put out smudge pots if it’s likely to freeze. No bigger than this grove is that ought to keep them from freezing.”

  “It’s a lot of work,” Cooper said.

  “Yeah it is, but fresh oranges and orange juice is good. Belle can make marmalade and put up preserves. Umph…makes my mouth water thinking about it,” Gus said.

  On the way to the kitchen for lunch, Gus related that a produce man on Market Street had offered to buy all the oranges Gus brought him. As they neared the house, Mac, Lucy, and Linda were walking up. “Jumper’s got himself a big ole gator,” Lucy exclaimed.

  “Has to be four feet long at least,” Linda added.

  “Well, that’s big enough for the boy to handle,” Gus said, “but it ain’t no big 'un. Some of these gators are eight to ten feet long and I’ve heard of big ole granddaddies that are over twelve feet long. Jumper better stay shy of the big boys.”

  At the lunch table Cindy put down her glass of tea and asked, “Cooper, have either you or David written to your mother or family?”

  Cooper looked down at his plate and mumbled, “I have been meaning to. I’ve never been a good hand at writing but I guess I need to just do it.”

  “There’s a desk with writing materials in the den,” Cindy said. “I expect at least a page before the evening meal. That goes for you as well, David.”

  “I’m not sure if I should address it to mother at the Finylson’s manor or where,” Cooper said.

  “Don’t worry,” Cindy told Cooper. “Lawyer Meeks will send it to a friend in Portsmouth. He will get the letters to where they need to go. Return mail will follow the same procedure, unless you tell your mother where you are, she’ll never know. She will have a means to correspond and that means a lot to a mother.”

  “Thank you, madam, that was very thoughtful of you to think of it,” Cooper said.

  “Aye,” David added.

  After lunch, Cooper was able to talk with Cindy alone for a few minutes. “I’m sure you know the captain is trying to buy Sophia’s contract.” Cindy nodded yes.

  “The captain said it was you who suggested it. Thank you,” Cooper said. “Do you think it wise that I visit her?”

  “No, not at this time, she is away from it all and while she would love to be with you, she realizes it would only bring trouble down on you,” Cindy said in a sincere voice. “We have not told her of the negotiations,” Cindy added.

  “Why not?” Cooper asked.

  “What if they refuse, Cooper? There’s no need to get her hopes up only to be dashed if negotiations fail.”

  A determined look came over Cooper and his voice was harsh. “I’ll steal her if I have to and they can all be damned.”

  Cindy placed her hand on Cooper’s arm. “Don’t you know, my dear friend, she’d never go. Her mother made and signed the contract. She has been paid. Sophia would never dishonor her mother by running off. It would ruin the family. They’d have to pay back the money received and if there’s another daughter she’d never be able to receive a good contract. The family would be tarnished.”

  “Damn it all,” Cooper hissed. “She has been the one hope of happiness since…since this,” Cooper said, touching the scar on his face. He had tanned from being at sea and in the elements, but the scar hadn’t. It stood out, a very white line that was the width of a person’s small finger.

  Unable
to think of a reply, Cindy stood on her tiptoes and reaching out pulled Cooper’s head down and kissed him on the scar. “My brave buccaneer friend,” she said.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Raven sailed with the tide the following Friday. The weather was clear and fair. Captain Taylor had decided to change to a different hunting ground. With all her canvas raised, Raven seemed to fly across the ocean.

  “Twelve…fifteen knots, I’d swear,” Turner volunteered. Within a few days they’d left the Gulf of Mexico and were plowing through the Atlantic.

  “Fine sailing weather,” Captain Taylor swore as Mac and Cooper took the noontime sightings. Not a cloud in the sky. When they finished with the noon sights, Mac compared his figures with Cooper’s and danced a little jig.

  “Damnation, Coop, you are spot on. I’ve finally got you trained. Cooper’s got it right,” Mac yelled. The crew roared in response, whistles, cat calls, and good-natured jibs.

  “That felt good, Mac,” Cooper told his friend.

  “Now iffen you can find your way into some whore’s drawers you’ll be a true pirate,” Banty quipped.

  A peaceful night followed but just before Cooper got ready for his hammock, the lookout called down, “Lights off the larboard bow, Captain. Might be stern lights.”

  Taylor slung a glass over his shoulder and tugged at the leather strap, making sure it was properly secured. A good night glass didn’t come cheap and you couldn’t get another in the middle of the ocean. Grabbing hold of a shroud Taylor climbed up the ratlines about ten feet. Looping his arm around the shroud he took the glass off his shoulder and focused in on the sighting. Without saying a word he backed down to the deck and called Mac and Turner over.

  “Its stern lights, I’m sure. I think the ship was tacking the way the lights were there one minute and then disappeared. I think we’ll change course and follow. It might prove to be a suitable prize, if not all we’ve lost is a few hours.”

  Sail handlers were called to tack and Raven swung around on her new course. The crew was excited and several bets were secretly made on what the dawn would bring. Sleep seemed to elude Cooper, as he, like the rest of the crew was anxious and excited to see what the morning would bring. When sleep finally came, it was filled with dreams of Sophia. She was on the ship they were chasing. She stood on the stern waving and calling to him but the ship continued to outdistance Raven. Every inch of canvas was put on Raven but still the ship with Sophia grew further and further away.

  Cooper woke up in a sweat. Someone was shaking his hammock. “You alright, Coop.” It was Johannes. Rising a bit, Cooper wiped his face with a shirt sleeve. “I was dreaming,” he stammered.

  “Must have been a bad one,” Johannes said. “You were screaming like the imps of hell were after you.”

  “Sorry mate, I think I’ll get up,” Cooper said.

  “It’s almost dawn anyway,” the German told Coop as he stood back so Cooper could rise.

  ***

  Mac touched Cooper’s arm as he came on deck. “Bad night?”

  “Aye, bad enough,” Cooper told his friend, wondering how Mac knew. “Was I that loud?” Cooper asked.

  “Loud enough you woke the whole mess,” Mac said with a laugh, trying to make light of the incident. “They think you’re chasing demons. You know how superstitious sailors are,” Mac said.

  “I was dreaming of Sophia,” Cooper whispered.

  “I figured,” Mac replied. “But don’t tell the men. It’s better that they think otherwise.”

  “Sail ho!” the lookout called down.

  “Where away,” Captain Taylor shouted, more than a little aggravation in his voice.

  The reply came back quickly with a full report. “Straight off the bow, Captain, I make it a small convoy. Six sets of sails. Indiamen they be.”

  “That’s more like it,” Taylor snorted. “It’s a good day for it,” he said.

  “Aye,” Diamond agreed.

  The wind was favorable and the sky was clear. All sail handlers were called again as Taylor ordered all canvas clamped on. Within the hour it was obvious they were overtaking the last ship in the convoy. The hands went about their morning routine as usual. Breakfast was cold biscuits and cheese and a small beer. It was not much but the men were too excited to care.

  “We’ll have that ’un before noon,” Spurlock predicted.

  “Or sooner,” Mac joined in.

  “Ten dollars on it,” Banty said.

  “No betting,” Taylor growled. “You knows better.”

  It was eleven o’clock when Captain Taylor called to Spurlock, “Put one across her bow, if you please.”

  “Aye, sir.” Spurlock already had his crew ready, anticipating the order. As soon as the word was passed the starboard forward gun boomed. There was no reaction from the chase ship, however.

  “Put one through her jib, Mr. Spurlock, this ’un is a bit stubborn.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  The gun crews quickly sighted the gun in. Another boom was heard and a hole was seen in the jib sail. A gunport opened on the Indiaman and a gun was run out and fired. Cooper didn’t see where the ball landed but it was nowhere near Raven.

  “That was for his honor,” Taylor told Cooper and Mac. “The rascal can now say he resisted.”

  “What if he’d hit us?” Cooper asked.

  “He’d be a dead man,” Taylor replied in a stoic voice. “Mr. Diamond, let’s let him have a moment of honor and then run up the red flag.”

  Cooper turned to Mac and asked, “No mercy?”

  “Aye,” his friend replied. “The captain has played the game now it’s time to heave to or pay the consequence.”

  “Trouble is while we are playing the other ships are getting away,” Cooper swore.

  “Can’t be helped,” Mac said.

  A squeak was heard as the red flag was run up. “Truck needs grease,” Diamond said, thinking aloud. Once the red flag was run up the sails came off the chase. The name across the stern proclaimed the ship to be the Cambridge.

  “She’s an Honest John ship,” Mac said. “She’s returning from either India or China and she’s heavily laden. We might have struck upon a fair prize here.”

  Grapples shot through the air as the two ships closed together. Soon after, the Indiaman’s deck swarmed with the Raven’s crew. Taylor called for the captain, and a man who’d been standing behind the first officer came forward.

  “Hell’s bells,” Mac swore and moved up to confront Cambridge’s captain. “If it ain’t Captain Sodomite. This is my old captain,” Mac said to all those within hearing. “He had Lieutenant Martin’s throat cut, drowned our poor little cabin boy and had rape charges hanging over my head so I had to resign my commission or face trumped up charges. Now, you are at my mercy, you buggering bastard.”

  “Please,” the captain begged as fear gripped him, “I made a mistake. I’ve changed, I swear.”

  “No, he hasn’t,” a young voice squealed. “He’s used me most violently. I can barely hold my bowels at times. Says he’ll have my mum and sisters turned out of their cottage if I tell. He even said he’d put me over the side one night if I told.”

  Slap! The captain backhanded the cabin boy, who fell to the deck. “Don’t listen to Hector, he lies.”…the last word was drawn out as a look of pain filled the captain’s eyes and he cried out as he crumpled to the deck. Hector had grabbed his knife and stabbed the man, severing his spine.

  “I…I can’t feel my legs,” the captain cried.

  “Good,” Hector replied and spit in his tormentor’s face. “I may hang but you’ll never bugger another boy,” Hector blurted as tears streamed down his face.

  “At last,” Mac said, “revenge is mine. Cast him over the side,” he ordered without consulting Captain Taylor. Two of Cambridge’s own seaman picked up the crumpled man and walked toward the rail.

  “Wait,” the captain screamed. “I can’t swim.”

  “If I thought you could, I’d run you through
first,” Mac retorted and then made a motion to continue with his hands. Over the side, Captain Sodomite went screaming, even as he splashed into the Atlantic, the scream turned into gurgles as he sank and disappeared.

  “Are you alright, lad?” Captain Taylor asked Hector, who still had tears in his eyes.

  “Aye,” the boy sniffed.

  “Well, what to do with you,” Taylor said. He called Bond, Cambridge’s first officer, and Mac over to the lee rail. “The boy has suffered enough,” Taylor said as he and the men talked.

  A decision was made soon, and Taylor called Hector over. “We have talked and the first officer has agreed to say pirates took the ship, killing the captain in the process. This will leave you free of charges and you can go home to England. The other choice is to come with us and the likelihood is you’ll never see your family or England again.”

  Looking at the Cambridge’s first officer, Hector spoke, “If I won’t be charged I’d like to go home.”

  “You won’t be, lad. We’ve had a suspicion you were being abused but couldn’t prove it. We’d also heard our captain had been cashiered from the Navy. There’s not much that will put a captain on the beach so we all suspected something was amiss.”

  ***

  The prize did prove to have a valuable cargo: silks by the bale, jade, Oriental china that was hand painted, and tea of the highest quality. The captain’s cabin was searched and only a small amount of coin, both gold and silver, was found. “Most of the captain’s money was tied up in personal ventures,” Bond advised them. All of which made its way aboard Raven. A case, almost like one dueling pistols came in, was found in the captain’s desk. In it was six pipes made of meerschaum and intricately carved. One was an elephant, another a tiger, the third pipe was a ship’s bow, the fourth one a ship’s wheel, the fifth was an anchor, and the last pipe was crossed swords.

  Mac went to Turner, the quartermaster, and Captain Taylor. “I found these,” he said, “and I’d like to buy them if I may, either in coin or taking it from my shares.”