Pirates of Blank, Part 1

The Marauder glided over the bottle green waters of the Atlantic like an ardent lover, cutting through tiny waves on a day with barely a cloud in the cerulean sky. Captain Gene Rayburn couldn't have been more content as he put his sword with the finely etched gold hilt through two burly buccaneers, back to back with his First Mate Richard Dawson.

He elbowed another man before dueling with two more, knocking them both overboard when they reached for his weapon. “That's what you get for trying to snitch a man's blade!” the slender captain yelled to the men over the side. “This blade was given to me by Captain Steve Allen, one of the greatest buccaneers of all time!”

“Are you sure you didn't invite these roustabouts to dinner?” Richard quipped as he took another huge fellow down.

“Are you kidding? The way they smell?” Gene ducked under one's man arm. “I wouldn't invite this crowd to the garbage dump off Brooklyn!”

Richard waved his hand at another lout's breath. “I think they've already had dinner there.” Despite his small stature, he easily rammed into the man, sending him sprawling. “Here you go, boys,” he told two of their people. “Get this piece of trash over the side.”

“In their boats, of course,” Gene smirked as he shoved the remaining men to the lifeboats. “Wouldn't want them to pollute the Atlantic worse than it already is!”

“I don't think they could make it any worse,” chuckled his third mate Charles Nelson Reilly as he tugged at his blue sailor's blouse with the outside seams. “The rest of the crew is secured, sir. They're tied up in the main cabin. The boys are taking them to their ship. Brett was with the ladies.”

“Where is she, anyway?” Richard asked, raising the one eyebrow not covered by a thick eye patch. “It shouldn't take that long to calm the ladies.”

“Perhaps,” Gene admitted warily...just as a sword poked into his back. “And perhaps, we have visitors.”

“Hello there, Gene,” said the man in the pale blue coat with the cross and circle trim who looked a great deal like him smirked. “Nice to see you again. Why don't you go get your own treasure?”

“Because it's going to a better place than into your bosses' pockets,” Gene said coolly, though he smiled at what seemed to him to be a mirror image. “Hello, Pete. Is that a sword in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”

“Very amusing, Rayburn,” said his near-look-alike Captain Peter Marshall with a toothy grin. “We're keeping this little treasure. We stole it from some rich American boat down off the coast of New Jersey fair and square.”

“Yeah,” muttered Charles, “because everything's legal down there.”

The tall, doughy fellow with the big smile held his knife up to Charles. “All right, Reilly. You're coming quietly. And if you're a good boy, you might even get to come with me, you hamburger, you!”

“He stole my line,” Richard muttered as he nudged Gene and pointed upwards. “Uh Captain, you might want to duck.”

“What?” He barely got down as four sets of shapely legs slammed into Marshall and his people, sending them flying overboard. “Brett?”

The slender woman with the shoulder-length black curls landed right next to Gene. “Hello, Captain!” Brett Somers gave him a smart salute. “My girls and I thought we'd give you a hand. Or better yet, a leg.”

Marcia Wallace dropped next to her, long legs akimbo in her tight black trousers. “Gene, Gene,” she grinned, “I sent Bill with Dick and the others to borrow the stuff on their ship. I think we could probably make better use of it than they can. I could use some new flowers for my hair myself.”

“Brett,” Joyce Bulifant called as she peered over the edge, “should we fish those guys out? Do you know if there's sharks in this part of the Atlantic?”

“Nahh, let them swim to shore.” Brett pulled out her own sword. “That'll teach Marshall twice about shoving us into a square!” She leaned into three men and let them run over the edge before turning to Richard. “By the way, where did you disappear to last night, Dickie, when we were all on shore leave? The men said you went to the wharf and didn't appear again until we shoved off.”

Richard flashed her one of his big smiles. “Oh, don't you worry about me. I was merely preparing The Family Fortunes for shoving off when we return to New York.”

“I'm going to miss you, Richard,” Gene told him with a catch in his voice. “The Family Fortunes is the gorgeous vessel I've ever seen. You'll do her proud, my boy.”

“You know,” Brett said as she raised an eyebrow, “you never told us where you got the money for that oversized bath toy. You always give your share from our raids to the poor or send it to your sons.”

“I had a benefactor,” Richard said shortly, crossing his arms. “What's this, an interrogation?”

“Calm down, Rich,” Charles added soothingly as he put a hand on his shoulder. “I was wondering, too. We have no doubt you'll be a great captain, but it does seem to be odd that you just bought it out of the blue.”

“Why?” Richard sneered. “Can't a man just purchase something he wants?”

“I think he'll be a fine captain,” Joyce broke in. “Maybe the Marauder and the Fortunes can go on raids together someday! Won't that be fun?”

“Um, yes, it would be,” Richard muttered doubtfully.

“Hey Captain!” Dick Martin, one of their more eager crew members, rolled a barrel onto their ship. “Look at what the boys and I found! There's enough rum here to celebrate every holiday for the next six years, and all our birthdays twice!” He flashed Joyce a grin. “Hey there Miss Cook, you think you could whip up a few party snacks to go with this?”

“I think I have enough flour for those little dough-wrapped sausage things,” Joyce admitted. “And if you guys haven't drunk all the beer, I could fry up some batter squid rings.”

“Sir!” Cabin boy Gary Burghoff dashed over the plank connecting the Star Squares with the Marauder. “Captain! You won't believe this, but they're loaded!” He held up a hand glittering with rings so large, the rocks nearly blinded him. “Chests and chests of huge gems and rings and tiaras and jewelry and gold and silver coins spilling all over the place! It'll buy us supplies for the next century!”

Gene grinned. “Net us a lot of repairs on the Marauder, too.”

“I always wanted a tiara,” Brett preened as she fluffed her silver-black hair.

“Please,” Charles lisped with a smirk. “You're enough of a queen as it is.”

“Pot calling kettle black,” Brett snipped back.

“Ahhh!” Portly Richard Paul wiggled his cigar between the two. “Feel the love in the air, now that we've cleared it of the other side, so to speak.”

“Captain!” Big Scoey Mitchlll, complete with cigar and open vest, sauntered over. “Marshall's people are all takin' a dive. 'Cept Miss Rose Marie. She said she'd walk back to the ship herself, an' I don't manhandle the ladies. My lady on land Claire would have my head.”

“This dude's just scared of her, that's all!” Scoey's assistant Jimmie Walker stumbled next to Gary, laden with necklaces and rings that were almost as gleaming as his teeth. “Hey man, can we keep some of these? Wouldn't mind impressin' a few of those dyn-o-mite ladies on land, if you know what I mean.”

“We'll divide the spoils when we shove off,” Gene told him, then turned to the last man coming off the ship. “Everyone here and accounted for, Officer Daily?”

“I think so,” the diminutive, worried-looking little man rambled. “Miss Rose-Marie said she'd swing back and pick up her people, if the sharks didn't get them. You don't want to know what she told me about sharks, sir. They're predatory animals that feed on blood and guts and swarm around their prey until there's nothing left but teeny little bones, and then they crunch those, and...”

“Bill, that's more than enough.” Gene made a face. “We're going to eat soon. I'd like to not turn green at the sight of my dinner.”

“All except for this little one.” Dick tugged a tiny, pretty girl by her arm. “Tried pulling a knife on me when I tried taking the last keg, sir. I think she's too cute for that kind of thing, even if she is wearing pants.”

“Oh honey,” Brett took the girl's arm more gently. “These idiots won't hurt you. They'd have to get past us first." She indicated herself, Marcia, and Joyce, “What are you doing on this ship? This isn't exactly a luxury passenger voyage with all the amenities!”

“Let me go!” The slender young woman sported a white shirt and navy trousers that were too big for her slender frame, a red rag tied around her short and sleek dark locks. “I'm trying to get to New York. My husband Anson is stationed there. I know he's on some American Navy ship. I just don't know which one. He didn't tell me before he left.”

“Don't worry, kid.” Marcia grinned. “You're among friends here. These guys try to get fresh, we know where to put our knees.”

Joyce patted her shoulder. “I'm the cook and clothes-repairer. They try anything, they don't get dinner and their pants fall apart.”

“Well, all right.” Lorrie gazed around oddly assorted group of men and women. “Are you sure you're pirates? You look more like the cast of The Beggar's Opera.”

“'Tis true that some of us were once players, my dear girl.” Gene kissed her hand. “With increasing costs of living on land, this is the only way some of us can make our living.”

Charles nudged Brett. “What about you? You never talk about where you came from. What's a chick like you doing in a place like this?”

“Well,” Brett said too quickly, “why don't I get the young lady settled in? We'll meet for dinner and to celebrate our big jackpot later.”

“I'm going to my room to work on navigating our way home,” Richard added as he made a face. “See that I'm not disturbed.”

“Geez,” grumbled Gary as the first mate sauntered off, “what's eating Rich? We just made a big haul. He should be excited!”

“Something's troubling that man,” Jimmie added, shaking his head. “Maybe we ought to, you know, talk to him.”

“Oh, don't mind Dickie.” Brett shook her head. “He's been in a mood lately, ever since he bought the Fortunes. Guess he thinks he's too good for us second-rate cutthroats now.”

“Third-rate!” Gary shot back.

“All right, all right, pipe down.” Gene waved his sword. “I'll put aside Richard's share of our spoils and the share for the people of the villages in New York. The rest will be split among all of you.” He sighed. “And I'll go talk to Richard and see if I can put him in a better humor.”

Richard Dawson had the second-largest state room on the ship. It was a near-mirror of his own, with a smaller bed and desk laden with charts, maps, a box of tea, and the few souvenirs of their spoils he chose to keep. “Who is it?” he muttered, not looking up from his work. “I'm busy.”

Gene frowned as he took the seat next to him. “Is something bothering you? You've been like this for months. The others are starting to notice. One minute, you'll be your old charming self. The next, you'll be moody, grumpy, angry over something or the other. I understand that you want to leave, but could you be a little better about it? Especially around the men.”

“Gene,” he started, “what do want me to do? It's nothing against you or the crew. There's other people who can give me what me want, and they actually manage to keep their money around for longer than five minutes.”

“Why do you think I left the Navy?” Gene made a face. “My bosses weren't paying me what I was owed, and those politicians on land weren't much better. Some people in the coastal villages are starving. I'm lucky I've been able to send money home to my wife and daughter.”

“I just...” he sighed. “I just wanted something of my own. Needed it. I couldn't stay under someone's command for much longer. I did what I had to. It'll be all over soon.”

His captain nodded. “I'm hoping we'll site land by tomorrow afternoon. Then, we'll take our shares, drop Lorrie off with her sailor, drop you off at the Family Fortunes, and that will be that.”

“Yes.” The smaller man's one good eye couldn't quite meet his. “Now, if you'd excuse me, I must see to these charts, unless you don't want to make it to port anytime soon.”

“Oh, yes.” He tried to grin. “How'd you like to meet Brett and Charles and me for dinner in my cabin? Joyce said she'd cook something special, and there's rum for those two drinkers and the best tea Captain Pete had in his stores for us intelligent sober people.”

Richard's nodded with that stiff grin. “I'm looking forward to it. I think you'll really enjoy that tea. I've added something to it that'll really give it a little...kick, so to speak. And now,” he added, “as soon as you go, I think I'll give the men a hand with the liquor barrels.”

“Want me to help?”

“No,” he said quickly, “that won't be necessary. I think the boys and I can handle it. You go figure out how we'll divide those spoils.”

Gene sighed. “All right. And Richard...”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Please,” he added quietly. “Just...smile, or something. Our crew will think there's something wrong if you don't. At least look happy that you're here.” He gave him a glare, but his voice sounded cheery. “Or I'll grab the sides of your cheeks and make you smile myself!”

Richard's smile didn't reach his eyes. “And God forbid you should have to do that!”

Gene almost ran straight into Charles when he turned around to return to his cabin. “Gene,” he whispered, “I have to talk to you. There's something strange about Richard. When I was on land, I was making my way back to the ship from a...well, from a friend's house, when I saw him walking from the opposite direction. I don't think he saw me. I swear he looked like he just came from the officer's club at the Navy barracks. They're stationed down there, by the docks. They don't normally let notorious pirates enter.”

Gene slapped Charles on the back. “Pursuing a sailor, huh? Going up in the world, I see.” He shrugged. “I'll ask him about it tonight. Meanwhile, why don't you make sure Gary and Jimmie are scrubbing the decks and not tossing dice between moppings again?”

“All right, Gene,” Charles sighed. “But I still think there's something going on.” He turned to leave, but turned back around, his face flaming red. “And if you must know, it wasn't a sailor. It was the set painter for a theater on Pearl Street.”

“Oh go on, you old sea dog!” Gene gave him a hearty slap on the back that nearly sent him to the ground. “What you do on your off time is your own business. I just hope you had a lot of fun, whomever he was.”

“Yes,” Charles moaned dreamily, “I did. Oh, I did!” He frowned as Gene headed to direct some of the men in taking the treasure downstairs and went after Richard. He still didn't trust him...

~*~*~*~*~*~

Gene whistled as he and Brett prepared the table in his cabin. Everything was perfect. The slightly chipped plates were set with napkins made from sail cloth, on a flowered tablecloth that was once an old shawl of Brett's. Two glasses and two chipped stoneware mugs gleamed alongside the freshly polished silverware.

“Well, it's not exactly the finest pub in New York,” Brett admitted, “but it looks decent enough.”

“I think it's lovely, Brett,” Gene told her with a warm smile. “Almost as fancy as that little inn we stayed at in Encino Village...”

“Shh!” Brett elbowed him as Richard came in. “X-nay on the Encino-ay around the others!”

He rolled his eyes. “You two can break it up now. I've heard your bloody jokes. Half the ship knows.” Two bottles were under his arm. “Here. Brought the rum,” he settled the larger bottle in the center of the table, “and the tea leaves. Now, let's eat.”

“Captain Rayburn?” Gary Burghoff ducked nervously into the room. “There's a ship on the horizon. It's been out there for a while. I think it's following us.”

Gene winced as he heard attempts at singing behind Gary. “Well, why don't you go join them? Better yet, find Charles and tell him to join us. He was supposed to meet us here.”

“He went to check on those rum barrels, sir. He thought he smelled something in them, sir. Something he didn't trust.” Gary gulped as Gene and Richard glared at him. “I'll, er, go help him, Captain. I'll go right away. Besides, I think I hear Jimmie singing out there. If he keeps going on like that, those people out there may hear us, and we're not ready for another raid. I think.”

Brett raised an eyebrow. “What was all that about?”

“I haven't the foggiest.” Richard poured her rum. “Why don't we get started? I'm surprised Joyce hasn't been around with our meals yet.”

Even as Richard spoke, the doors opened. “Oh, hi folks.” Joyce carried a tray on her hip and another in her arms. “Here's dinner! I'll be ladling out the fish stew to the rest of the crew after I finish here. Then,” she yawned heavily, “I think I'll take a nap.” Her eyes were already half-shut. “I don't know what got into me. I was feeling fine earlier! Guess all the excitement with the raid and passing around the rum wore me out.”

“Let me help you there.” Richard jumped up, took the tray from her hip, and started placing biscuits on plates. “The men enjoy the rum? I added an extra...something of my own.”

“Uh-huh. I've never seen them drink so much. Dick and Rich Paul must have had a whole keg to themselves.” She yawned even more deeply, nearly dislocating her dainty jaw. “I hope all of you enjoy dinner. You have a good night! I'll serve dinner and get Lorrie settled in with us ladies.”

“Well,” Richard started, “shall I pour?” He took the tea pot first. “This is for you, Gene. And this,” he picked up the rum and let the dark liquid splash into Brett's glass, “is for the lady.”

“Shouldn't we wait for Charles?” Brett asked as she reached for her glass. “I wish he'd stop being late all the time.”

“No, I'm sure he's all right.” Richard settled down and began to ladle stew into his mouth. “Not bad. Not bad at all. Joyce outdid herself tonight.”

Gene sipped his tea. “He's probably keeping an eye out for that ship Gary mentioned. Wonder who it is?”

“Perhaps they're friendly,” Richard suggested. “We ought to swing over and greet them.”

“But what if they aren't?” Brett's glass of rum was already empty. “I don't think any of these idiots are up to fighting their way out of a burlap bag, let alone an enemy ship! What if it's the US Navy? We're not...” she yawned, “on their list of favorite people. Didn't Governor Goodson say he'd make you pay for raiding his ships?”

“I'm not worried about him. I can get around that.” Gene gulped his tea, smacking his lips in delight. “Where did you get this, Richard? It's really good. There's a hint of...raspberry, cinnamon, and maybe something...fruity...”

“Oh, here, there.” Richard shrugged and pushed his empty bowl aside. “Why don't you have more?” He filled Gene's cup before he even finished.

“You're awfully eager...” Brett yawned deeper as she sipped her second glass of rum, “for him to drink that.”

“I just want him to try it!” Richard insisted. “Why should I be the only person here who doesn't want a fogged brain?”

Gene frowned, rubbing his head. “I don't know about that, Rich,” he muttered, blinking as the smaller man suddenly went double. “I think there's two of you.”

“Dickie,” Brett said with a deeper yawn, “do you have...anything to do...with why I'm so tired? You were the last one...near the rum...”

“Well, you have had a busy day, Brett, what with that big raid and all.” Richard tugged her out of the seat and half-carried her to Gene's massive carved rosewood bed. “Why don't you go to sleep a little early? I'll get you up when my patron arrives.”

“Your...patron...” Brett's eyes were already closed. “What...about...Gene? The crew? Dickie...”

Richard put a finger on Brett's lips. “Mistress Klugman, please stop calling me that. I'm not one of your sons. I'm a grown man. I haven't gone by that name in over a decade.” She finally passed out on his shoulder, snoring heavily. He made a face as he lay her on the bed. “I'd rather direct your rum breath down here, where it won't knock out several fleets.”

“Mistress Klugman? Rich...wha...” Gene wished his head didn't feel so thick. His brain was heavier than the stew, and even harder to wade through. He swore he saw Richard bind Brett's wrists with his own sheets. “Wha...what are you doing?” His voice slurred until his words were barely discernible. “Why you doin' that?” He leaned on his hand, struggling hard to stay awake.

“Gene, don't make me do you, too,” Richard admonished lightly as he wound another sheet around Brett's ankles. “I'm working for someone else now, at least for the moment.”

“Rich...” Gene tried to growl, but his tongue was sandpaper. “Rich...I trusted you...stop...”

Gene rested his head on his arm just as Charles Nelson Reilly barreled into the state room. “Gene? Captain Rayburn? Gary and I saw Richard drop something in the rum. Didn't like the smell of it. Gary's trying to wake up Scoey and Dick. Someone has to steer the ship! That ship that was behind us is almost on top of us. I think they're a US Navy cruiser. We have to get out of here. These guys are in no condition to fight.” He frowned as Gene moaned under his arms. “Captain? Gene? Are you all right?”

“He's fine, Charlie.” Gene forced his eyelids open just in time to catch Richard whipping out a pistol. “You won't be if you keep moving. I'm afraid I'll have to figure out what to do with you.”

Charles just gazed over his shoulder, his eyes widening in horror. “Brett? What did you do to her? Why's she trussed up like she's going to be hauled on the wharf?” He gave Richard a lisp and coy smile. “I didn't think you liked things kinky!”

“I don't. Not here, anyway.” Richard shoved his gun at Charles' chest, pushing him back against the wall. “I'll keep you with me. Might be useful if one or two of the crew members are still awake. If they see us together, chatting normally, no one will suspect a thing.”

“They will if I scream for help. We'll need it. That Navy ship could be on us any second!”

“Of course, it will.” Richard gave him a wan smile. “I want them to come. I'm the navigator, remember? Directed the ship right to them. Promised my patron he could join the party!”

“What? But...” Charles' yelled angrily.

Anything else he wanted to say was muffled by Richard throwing his hand over his mouth. “Shush, Charlie. I don't want to hurt you. Now,” he turned him around roughly, “you're going to walk with me and to the wheel and steer this ship over to the Navy cruiser, and you're going to let them onboard. Don't bother trying to call for help. They're all sleeping..and if you yell for Gary or Jimmie, all three of you will end up full of lead.”

“Rich...” Gene slurred, “wha...why...no...” He tried to move, but his limbs were heavier than the sandbags used for ballast. Nothing worked. The last thing he heard before falling into a drugged sleep was the small slam of Richard closing the door behind him.