Sunday, February 28, 2021

Pirates of Blank, Part 3

Coooollld! The water was freezing cold and moving whip-fast under his bound legs. He barely managed a few gasps before sinking below the waves. Once he recovered from the initial shock, he kicked out his legs, trying to shake off the ropes.

He turned around to try to swim back to his ship...just in time to hear the explosion. The Marauder went up in a burst of flames and noise that could be heard for miles. One of the broken boards landed hard on his head as he fought to escape the heavy undertow. After he yelped, he draped himself over it, hoping in his heart that all his crew got off the ship before it was blown to bits.

He was too tired to fight now. The board drifted along with the tide, with him barely hanging on. Wind blew him further out to sea, even as he got splinters from clutching that piece of wood for dear life. The air was too frigid...and warm...had it ever been so warm? Or cold. Wind stung his high cheekbones and blew his stiffly drying hair into his eyes. He tried screaming for help, but all that emerged was a scratchy bleat.

Time lost all meaning in the middle of the Atlantic. He had no idea how long he drifted along with the tides. Could have been days, hours, even minutes. Sore arms continued to hold onto the waterlogged piece of wood. Maybe it was his imagination, but a huge shadow suddenly seemed to blanket the waters around him. He looked up, just in time to bump into something wooden...a ship's hull. As his eyes roved over the side, they caught the words The Golden Medley painted in elaborate scroll on the side.

“H...hello?” His raspy voice shook like a piece of dry seaweed battered helplessly by a wave. “H..help...p...please...”

Voices babbled on the deck, but he was too tired to make them out. He barely noticed when wheels squeaked and lowered a lifeboat into the water. Two strong arms wrapped in the white blouses favored by buccaneers managed to haul him over the side. “Gene?” a voice called to him. “Gene? What the hell are you doing here? Are you all right?”

“I'll t...tell you,” he rasped with chattering teeth. “J...just get me o...onboard, a...and t...then, we'll talk!” That was the last thing he remembered before he passed out in the bottom of the lifeboat.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He never felt so warm. Smooth satin slipped over his arms as a cool, damp cloth pressed over his head. His dark eyes fluttered open as a small hand stroked his cheek.

“You're awake!” gasped a British accent in delight. “Oh, thank heavens! You had a terrible fever for a while there. We weren't sure you were going to pull through.”

“Where am I?” He rasped as he took stock of his surroundings. “How did I end up here?”

“You're in the captain's quarters on The Golden Medley. We fished you out of Atlantic almost a week ago.” A beautiful young woman with thick chestnut hair and a slender, boyish figure gently patted his head with a cool wet piece of cloth. “Captain Kennedy is on deck, but he'll be so happy that you're all right.” Her voice dropped sadly. “We...heard...what happened to the Marauder. It was bloody hard to miss! By the time we went to help the survivors, the only one we could find was you.”

Gene frowned. “I have no idea what happened to the others. Goodson wanted them to stand trial, so I presume they survived.” His eyes roamed over her slender figure, encased in a tight laced bodice. “But at least I woke up to a nice view.”

“Oh, I'm Dolly Martin.” The woman gave him a wan smile. “At least I know my husband Dick is all right. The governor wouldn't miss a chance to bring cutthroats to trial if it'll enhance his reputation and his pocketbook.”

Gene made a face. “So I've noticed. I guess he thought I was expendable.”

“Gene?” Captain Tom Kennedy came in, sporting what had once been the blue uniform of an American Naval officer stripped of its decorations. “You were in pretty bad shape for a while. How are you feeling now, old friend?”

“Better, now that I'm off that plank. The next time I see planks of wood, they'd better be the deck of a ship.” He grinned as Tom sat next to him. “You seem to be doing well enough for yourself.”

“Thanks. We had a couple of good raids up north. Shared the loot with the crews under two new buccaneers from Canada. Very smart boys. Captain Trebek of The High Rollers and Captain Perry of The Card Sharks. Those two are going to go far, if they can avoid the Royal Canadian Navy.” Despite his praise, the wide grin didn't meet his eyes. “Then I came back down here and found they blew two of the best pirates in the business out of the water. The Marauder...and The Concentration.”

Gene patted the younger man's arm. “I'm sorry about your brother, Tom. We heard the noise, but by the time we arrived on the scene, there was nothing left but splinters. We searched for an hour and couldn't find anyone.”

Tom narrowed his eyes. “Jack's alive. He told me the last time I talked to him on land he just stole thousands of dollars worth of gold bullion and jewels from a Spanish cruiser and buried it on the coast of New Jersey. Goodson wants to return the treasure to the Spaniards and get the reward...and Jack is the only one who knows where it's hidden. Goodson's not going to blow up the only person who can tell him where a treasure that could pay for his salary six times over is.”

“I presume he stole the money from my most recent raid, too. The question is,” Gene sighed, “how do we get my money and my sword back, and make sure no one steals your brother's loot?”

Kennedy leaned closer, his eyes shining. “Word on land is that Goodson's currently off the coast of Delaware, near Lewes. Guess he figures he can hang low until he brings our crews to New York or Philadelphia for trial.”

“We'll be arriving off Cape Island within the next few days,” Dolly added.

Gene made a face. “Dolly, you and Dick were friendly with Brett. Did you know she's the runaway wife of a rich doctor? I had no clue. She told us she was from Maine Territory and her husband left her and her children high and dry in Philly.”

Dolly sighed. “Dick knew her better than me, but he did tell me about her the last time I saw him. The part about her kids is true. She abandoned him, though. They argued constantly, sometimes knock-down, drag-out scream fests. I think she got tired of it. Her drinking and his gambling didn't help matters.”

He made a face. “Why didn't she tell me? I wouldn't let it get around. She's a wonderful sailor and a very capable woman.”

“She trusted you. Mostly, anyway.” She made a face. “She was afraid one of the crew would talk. The fewer people who knew, the better.”

“No one trusts me anymore!” Gene grumbled. “Brett didn't trust me. Richard threw me over for Goodson. What the hell did I do to these people?” He wrinkled his nose. “And I want my sword back! Captain Steve Allen gave me that sword. It's the best I ever had. Goodson will probably give it back to the Spaniards or melt it down. Or worse, keep it for himself.”

Kennedy frowned. “Word in the taverns in New York is Dawson's getting arrogant. He's a dictator on The Family Fortunes, lords his power over his crew. I'm not sure he'll be much of a help.” He leaned into the other three. “Gene, we'll get them back. Your sword, too. We'll be pulling alongside the Todman by early tomorrow morning.”

“And I'm going to help you.” Gene swung his bare legs off the bed, wrapping the blanket around the rest of him. “This is my crew. There's no way you're leaving me out. Even if I do end up standing trial, at least I'll be with them.”

“We weren't going to say no.” Kennedy chuckled. “We know how stubborn you are. Besides, we could use all the help we can get.”

“Captain Kennedy?” The man who stuck his head in had shaggy dark hair, a large grin and a slightly too-big nose, and carried a pad of paper. “You know, the boys are getting restless. Doc McLean can only stitch up so many of them before they drink all the liquor he uses for antiseptics. By the way, how's the patient? Oh, and I need the exact coordinates for Goodson's ship, so I can get as close as possible without us getting blown out of the water like the Marauder did.”

“He's fine, Robert, as you can see.” Tom nodded at Gene. “Tell the boys we'll be joining them shortly. I'll give you the coordinates after dinner. Oh, and Gene, this is Robert Walden, our navigator. Just hired a few weeks ago.”

“Nice to meet you.” Gene reached for the nearest shirt as Robert turned bright crimson, Dolly whistled, and Tom snickered. “Um, I think I'd better get dressed first. Then we'll make a plan.”

“Right.” Robert turned around quickly. “I'll just go tell the boys we'll be getting ready. By the way, sir, once you're...dressed...I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah.” Gene barely held the blanket over him. “We can do that.”

“Well,” Tom chuckled, “why don't we go feed the animals out there, then prepare the men to board the Todman and show Goodson who's really in charge of the seas.”

As soon as the others left, Gene dressed quickly and headed out the door to join the mess line before the crew devoured everything in sight. “Sir?” Robert Walden stepped out of the navigator's cabin, “may I have a word with you?”

“Well, all right,” Gene grumbled. “But make it fast. I'm starving!”

“Sir,” he said softly, “I know Charles Nelson Reilly was one of your men. He used to be my teacher years ago on land. He was one of the best teachers I ever had. I'm worried about what Goodson will do to him.”

Gene made a face. “He was still standing, last I saw, but I don't like the way the sailors looked at him. Young man, I swear, we'll rescue him and the others before those sides of beef lay a fingernail on his toupee.”

“That's not all.” His nasal New York accent lowered to a whisper as he whipped out a paper and quill. “I have been a navigator before, but I'm really a reporter for the New York Tribune. I'm working on a story for my boss Edward Asner about corruption in the Navy and how they're dealing with pirates. He said I should get a hands-on view of the situation. I overheard Kennedy talking to one of his men about his plans for dealing with Goodson at a tavern near the Tribune's office. Signed on with him right then and there.”

Gene couldn't help his eyes flitting to the food line. “Look, why don't we make this quick. You help me free my crew and get a new boat, and I'll help you get the real lowdown on Goodson. Now,” he handed him a bowl, “let's get dinner, before it goes down the gullet of those savages out there.”

Robert grinned widely. “Sure, sir!”

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