Sunday, February 28, 2021

Pirates of Blank, Part 4

It was late in the evening when they drifted alongside the sleek vessel known as the SS Todman. Goodson's flagship shined in the dim moonlight, the pride of the US Naval fleet. Men in sailor uniforms stood at attention on-deck, stoic in their spotless dark blue uniform.

“Hold back, men!” whispered Tom as they all ducked into cabins or squatted on-deck. “We want them to think we're a ghost ship, not something real.” Tattered fabric bits hung from the real sails. Cannons were covered in a veneer of red dust to appear rusty and dull.

“That's all well and fine,” grumbled lanky young sailor Bart Braverman, “but do we have to wear the cut-out sheets?”

McLean, the silver-haired ship doctor, poked his head out of his sheet. “I feel like laundry down here. We aren't going to scare those guys. They'll just stick us in a basket and rinse us the next time we go to shore.”

“Shhhh!” Sharon Farrell stuck her curly yellow head out. “Do you want them to recognize us?”

Tom waved his hand as the boats scraped against each other. “Enough, all of you! All right, everyone. Let's get over the side.”

Sharon landed gracefully on the other deck, barely ruffling her sheet. “If anyone tries anything, go flat and pretend to be laundry.”

“They'd better not try stepping on me,” grumbled Dolly under her sheet. “I just washed these this afternoon!”

“Shh!” Robert Walden waved a sheet-covered hand, indicating two sailors keeping watch on-deck. He and McLean grabbed the duo, getting them on the ground with the help of the knock-out drops McLean carried in his pocket. “All right, the others have to be around here somewhere.”

“Wait!” Gene peered out of his sheet into the rapidly setting sun. “I think these fellows might be able to help us.” He grabbed the larger of the two with the thicker beard. “Sir, have you heard anything about the whereabouts of a Miss Brett Somers?”

Gene reeled back when the big fellow breathed on him. He definitely smelled half a case of good brandy, among other things. “Oh, her?” He hiccuped. “Thought her name was Mrs. Audrey Klugman. Guess it's the same lady. She's havin' dinner with the boss. My friend and I, we just brought her there. The ladies got her all dressed up in some fancy lacy thing. His cabin is thataway.” He pointed towards the ends of the ship behind them.

“Thank you, sir. You may take your nap now.” Gene let him fall back and snore. “If she's with Goodson, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

“I have an idea.” Bart tugged the other fellow's shirt over his head. “Two of us can pass as sailors and see if we can get information out of Goodson or his crew. No one will notice sailors roaming around.”

Gene started stripping the larger man with the silver beard, who snored on his lap. “Whew! I don't want to know how many kegs this guy had with dinner. His clothes reek with rum.”

As they changed under their sheets, McLean and Tom knocked out two more sailors who came to check up on them, wailing softly like ghosts until they came close. “I liked Sharon's idea from earlier.” McLean pulled off one of the moaning men's boots. “We'll pose as sailors picking up laundry. There's no way we can keep up this ghost act forever.”

Dolly flipped off her sheet and knotted it around her waist and bosom to resemble a tight dress. “No one will ask a lady in a dress that shows this much cleavage any questions.”

“I like it!” Sharon wound the sheet around her body, too, making sure it lifted her own chest. “If anyone asks, we'll say we're...er...ladies from the nearby harbor.”

“Ladies of a certain type,” Dolly added with a grin. Gene couldn't suppress a whistle as she turned around for her snickering audience. Sharon pulled up a little skirt, revealing an expanse of slender tanned leg.

Gene took Sharon's arm and Tom took Dolly's as they inched along in the shadows, now carrying their sheets or draping them around their shoulders. Everyone scuttled along the deck in the lengthening shadows, jumping or knocking out sailors when they turned to check out the “ghosts” floating by.

“Shhhh!” Gene waved the others behind his sheet, stopping by the window to the largest cabin. “I think I hear voices over there!”

“How are we going to get in?” Dolly made a face as she yanked at the door. “It's bloody locked!”

Gene eyed the lower sail. “I think I know.” He took her sheet and Robert's and tied them together, then tied a knot at the end.

“I hear her!” Betty leaned in to listen. “Gene, hurry up! Tom, McLean, see if you can break the lock on the door. I'll take the side way in.”

As Gene tightened the knot on the sheets, he swore he heard voices drifting from the cabin. “Welcome, Mrs. Klugman,” Goodson purred. “Sit down. Enjoy the meal. We have the finest cook anywhere on the high seas, hired straight from New York.”

“You know, I think I will try it,” Brett rasped as porcelain dishware and silver tureens clinked. “This beef stew smells amazing. You can just taste the spices. You're a lucky man, to have such a wonderful cook. It's been a long time since I've had a fine dinner with a real gentleman. I don't count my, er, husband as a gentleman, or those ruffians I used to work with. I'm glad to be rid of them. The girls and I are better off with men who don't consider it to be open season on your buns.”

“I don't know how you put up with them for so long.” Goodson chuckled. “Rayburn was one of my best captains, once upon a time. Intelligent...in his way...authoritative, strong-minded. Trouble is, he couldn't respect the law. Insisted on doing things his own way, making a comedy out of everything, giving my money to the locals. But the law, my dear,” he purred as knives scraped against porcelain, “is the law. The law is everything.”

“Especially,” Brett rumbled alluringly, “if it's your law.”

Gene threw the sheets up, managing to catch it on the end of the sails. He'd just swung up against the walls as Goodson went on. “Of course, my dear. It's how you play the game. There's no game if there's no law. The law must be obeyed.”

“Naturally.” Her foghorn contralto dropped to a deep purr. “I know about playing the game, Governor. I've played it for a long time.”

Even as something swished through fabric, he took hold of the sails and grinned at the others. “I'm going in after Brett. I'll let you guys in when I get there. Later, folks!”

Of course, the last thing he expected was to mistime his swing. Or for the sheets to go beyond the cabin's window. Or for the sheet to rip and him to crash through the window behind it, sending him flying into a map tacked onto the back wall.

“Gene? That was some entrance, old friend.” Someone whipped off the map before Gene could struggle out from under it. “You know, if you wanted to come in, you could have knocked. I would have opened it for you.”

Bill Cullen leaned on his one good leg, his wooden peg-leg thumping as he moved back to his chair. “Bill? How in the hell did I end up in here? Where's Brett?”

“Oh, she's fine.” Bill helped him sit shakily on the other chair. “She's dealing with Goodson. I already had a talk with Mrs. Klugman.”

Gene took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. “I don't know why I did that. I don't know how I did that!” He frowned as Bill rubbed his back. “What are you doing here, anyway? Thought you were working with your buddy Captain Stewart on The Winner's Circle.”

“I enjoyed working with that ship, but it got to be too much.” Bill's hand reflexively went down to his wooden leg. “I let Bob's protege Dick Clark take over. Good man. He's older than you think, but he has more youth and vitality than men a decade under him. He'll be there for a long time.”

He nodded at the map crumpled under Gene. “I'm working for Tom. Jack is my brother-in-law, and a dear friend of mine. I have no personal animosity against Goodson, but I'm not going to let him abuse Jack, either.” He stumped over to a door in the back of the room. “When you need to get in, why don't you just do what normal people do and ask someone?”

“Thanks, old friend.” He gave Bill a pat on the shoulder, then dove into the room head-first with a scream that would have frightened the blade off a swordfish.

It didn't do much for the occupants of the room. “Gene?” Brett looked up from the wickedly sharp knife she held on Goodson. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you went swimming!” The knife seemed more than a little out of place with the silk and lace-trimmed gown she wore, her black hair piled on her head with combs made of pearl and alabaster.

Gene made a face as he got to his feet. “I came here to save you! The others are behind the door.”

“Is that what that god-awful racket back there is?” Brett nodded at Goodson and handed Gene the knife. “Keep this on him. Make sure he doesn't move. I'll let the others in.”

“You do know, of course,” Goodson chuckled amiably, “that I can no longer guarantee protection for the rest of your female crew and Reilly.”

Brett made a face. “I wouldn't have trusted you to do it, anyway. The girls and I planned this jailbreak since we got on this leaky tub. Gene, get the keys.”

Goodson slid them out before Gene could reach into his pocket. “I'll do it. That's the last place I want your hands.”

“Thank you.” Gene immediately let the others in...and they nearly tumbled head-first into the room. “Well, that was graceful. Alert the entire ship to our presence, why don't you?”

Tom untangled himself from the pile well before anyone else did. “All right, Goodson, talk.” He took the knife from Gene and aimed it at the Governor's gullet. “Where's my brother?”

Goodson smirked a little. “I'm not telling you. However, I'm glad you're here. I knew you'd fall for this. The moment I raise my voice, every man on this ship will come running.”

“You'll do no such thing, Mark.” Bill Cullen pulled a gun from his pocket and aimed it straight at the governor's chest, even as he continued to smile sheepishly. “I'm sorry to do this to you. I actually like you, and you are my boss. What I don't like is how you treat your captains.”

“So it's mutiny.” Goodson raised an eyebrow. “You're the last person I expected to turn against me.”

“Mark, it's nothing against you,” Bill admitted amiably. “I just like my brother-in-law more.”

“Then you won't mind,” Mark chuckled, “if I do this.” He grabbed at Bill's hand, forcing the gun to the ceiling. Brett and Gene jumped at him, but jumped back as the gun fired, sending splinters of wood and wood pieces flying through the room.

“Damn it,” Robert yelled as sailors dashed in, “we've got company!”

“I have an idea.” McLean leaned out the window and managed to pull the sheet rope in. “Hey Bart, get the other side!” They pulled it across the door just in time for three sailors to run right into it, landing on the table with a blinding crash.

Dolly pushed around the mess, grabbed the knife, and pointed it at Goodman's chin. (Which was all she could manage, being fairly small in stature.) “Where's my Dick? Er, where's my husband?”

“Ma'am, could you please remove that?” Goodson pushed her knife away. “You shouldn't be playing with those. Matter of fact, neither should I. I have other things to do, like have a long-overdue chat with Captain Narz.” He pulled a sword with a gem-trimmed gold handle out of his dresser. “If you want this, Rayburn,” he snapped, “you'll have to come and get it!” He quickly shimmied under the sheet and dashed across the deck, past more of his men.

“Damn it to all hell!” growled Brett. “Not only did he not tell us where Jack and the others are, we don't know where Charles is, either. He's not with the other men. Goodson practically boasted that to me.”

“Gene!” One of the sailors went flying as a diminutive body flung itself into him. “I know where Jack and the others are. I can take you there.” Richard Dawson got to his feet, holding his own sword on the sea dog on the floor. “It'll serve Goodson right for lying to me and breaking his promise."

“You bastard!” Brett angrily launched herself at him before he could prepare himself, landing them both on the floor. “You're just as big of a liar as he is! All you care about is yourself and your god-damn blasted ship! I ought to shove that entire dinner down your throat sideways, including the bones from the chicken!”

Richard Dawson fought against her, his eye patch slightly askew from the fall. “Brett, if you'll just get off me, I'll explain...”

“I have half a mind to let her throttle you to death,” Gene growled. “You sold us out at the first opportunity! I almost got killed taking a bath in the Atlantic, Charles may be dead, and it's all because of you!”

Robert and Bart finally wrestled Brett off the diminutive ship captain. “I'd let him talk,” Tom warned. “He's been here longer than we have.”

“That's...right...” Richard puffed as he rolled over. “Bill...and I...can take you...to Jack and the men. They're in...the hold. Charles...being held...elsewhere...”

“He's in a separate cabin, but I don't know which one.” Brett made a face. “We can get the other ladies out next. They're in the cabin next to Bill's. They're being held to make sure I cooperate.”

Bill held out a set of dangling keys. “As navigator of the ship, I have my own copy of these. Surprised Mark didn't think of taking them before he left. I think he's aware I'm not on his side anymore.”

“You get the ladies out,” Richard ordered, directing the men to gather the remaining sheets. “We'll deal with these blokes.” He nodded at the sailors, most of whom were just coming to after being hit with wine bottles. The two men wrapped the sheets around them until they could barely move.

“All right,” Brett grumbled as she stormed out of the room. “But so help me, Dickie...Richard, if you're trying to lure us into some kind of trap...”

“Just in case,” Gene added, frowning, “I think one of us had better keep an eye on him.”

Robert took his arm. “I've wanted to have a chat with you, anyway. You and Captain Cullen are the only pirates who worked with Goodson and didn't end up on the short end of a noose. I want to hear everything about his operations.”

“Let me help with that.” Dolly Martin took his other arm. “He's my fellow Brit...and I need to have a talk with him about abandoning my Dick.” Her brown eyes and wide white teeth gleamed nastily in the waning candlelight.

“Ok, let me at 'em!” Marcia growled the moment she and the other women emerged from their cabin. “Where's Goodson? I want to shove my knee in places where the sun don't shine, if you know what I mean.”

“Where's Anson?” Lorrie wiped blood-shot eyes. “They...they won't let me see him. The governor says I'll be a distraction to him...he has too much work to do...”

Gene put an arm around her. “Don't worry. We'll find him, just as soon as we rescue Jack and the crew and Charles.” He grabbed one of the sailors on the floor. “Take their uniforms. Ladies,” he handed Marcia a sheet, “try to look alluring.”

Richard doubled over laughing. “You idiots will never pass for normal sailors. The ladies maybe, but...”

“We don't have a choice, Rich.” Gene tugged on the sailor's shirt, even though it was about a size too small for him. “Well,” he grumbled as he tried to cover his bare mid-drift, “lead the way, Captain Dawson! And no funny business. You lead us into a trap, Miss Wallace has my permission to kick you in places where the sun doesn't shine.”

Marcia glared at him. “And I'll do it, too!”

“Very well. Are you all quite done?” Richard sighed as he gazed at the motley assortment, half wearing sailor uniforms that were too big or small, half wearing sheets tied around their mid-drifts. “This will have to do. Hopefully, most of the crew is too busy to really look hard.”

Robert and Dolly stayed with Richard as he lead them across the main deck and down into the hold. The only problem they had was from two sailors standing guard near the stern, one of whom took one look at Dolly and Sharon and tried to proposition them. He stopped when his face met Gene's fist; the other one wasn't moving too well after Dolly's knee ended up in his private parts.

“Shh!” Richard waved his hands as he lead them into the black bowels of the ship. “We can't let Goodson know I'm here, or Bill, for that matter. He'll call the rest of these lovely blokes on us quick as a wink.”

As they went further into the hold, Gene heard a familiar voice over the murmur of grumbles and complaints. “Goodson, I've told you. You aren't getting your hands on that treasure.”

Tom stopped so suddenly, Gene ended up running into his back. “Tom,” he muttered, “could you warn people when you do that?”

He glared at him. “We need to get the drop on him. I don't want him hurting Jack.”

Goodson was too intent on his prisoner to hear them. “It's too bad, Captain Narz. We could have worked together, you and me. After all, you've been one of the most notorious pirates on the Atlantic for a long time. I could have provided for your retirement.”

Jack's angry look was just as heated as his younger siblings as he glared at the captain from an iron cage. “Provided for my hanging, you mean. You'll never let any of us enjoy those spoils, unless we sell out to you like Dawson did.”

Richard winced as as Goodson chuckled. “Dawson came to his senses, Captain. He realized how much easier it is to work with the law than fight it.”

“I'm not like Richard,” Jack growled. “I was going to use my share of that treasure to retire...but I wanted to give the rest to my brother and our family. I have no desire to end my life dangling on the end of the rope, and I don't want Tom to, either.”

“Ah yes, that brother of yours.” Goodson leaned in closer, his white teeth gleaming in the twilight. “Did I mention your brother is here? My crew are dealing with him and his men as we speak.”

“Are you going to toss him overboard too,” called Scoey Mitchilll from one of the cages behind them, “or are you going to treat him like a jail bird?”

“He wouldn't toss Tom overboard.” Jack glared at him. “Not if he wants me to talk.”

“Maybe I will.” Goodson grinned easily. “Maybe I will feed Kennedy to the fishes, like I did Rayburn. Or I could always let my boys decide. They do enjoy a good flogging.”

“Hello there, Governor.” Richard strolled in, smirking widely. “Look at what I dragged in.” He grabbed Tom by the arm. “Found him upstairs, brawling with your boys, but we took care of him.” He looked over his shoulder at the others. “Right, men?”

“Uh, yes.” Bart, who held up a pair of sailor's trousers that were too big for him, nodded. “Uh, yes, sir. Absolutely. We got him! And this guy, too!” He shoved Gene out front.

“Hey!” Gene made a face. “Is everyone turning me in now?”

“I've had enough of your ordering me around and your hambone acting!” Richard yelled...even as he gave Gene a tiny wink. “I've wanted my own command for a long time, and you never listened to me! You never heard me! I've watched, and I've learned, and I'm ready to take over my own ship!”

Gene knew an opening when he heard one. “You could have told me, not dumped me in the Atlantic! Do you know how cold it was in there?”

“Enough, both of you!” Brett yelled. “I'm about ready to knock you both overboard, starting with the traitor over there!” She lunged for Richard, her hands ready to wrap around his neck again.

“Mrs. Klugman,” Goodson reached for her arm, still smiling. “I'll deal with Captain Rayburn. Captain Dawson, if you please...”

For the first time in weeks, Gene saw Richard's familiar roguish smile. “Why certainly, Governor! On the count of three, boys. One...two...”

The moment he said “three,” he and Gene turned and hit Goodson at the same time in the chin! Gene grabbed him by the collar when he went down stunned. “All right, Governor,” he growled, shaking him, “where's the keys to those cages?”

Goodson never lost his composure, still giving him that bland smile. “I'm not telling you. I will, however, call my men to handle the lot of you, including Dawson. I should have known you couldn't trust a pirate.”

“Now you figure that out.” Richard easily lifted the keys from his pockets. “Used to do a little all-purpose pick-pocketing with an underground regiment during the Revolution. Here, Tom,” he tossed the keys to the taller man, “get your brother out.”

Dolly ran to her husband as soon as everyone tumbled out of the cages. “Dick!” she laughed as he picked her up and spun her around. “You crazy goose!”

“I never thought I'd see you again.” He laughed and dipped her. “We need to celebrate this. How about we raid the wine cellar next and see what they have on this tub for a party?”

“Later, dear,” Dolly murmured as he nibbled at her neck. “We have an audience, including the Governor of New York.”

“Now that we've found Jack,” Gene continued as he shook Goodson like a rag doll, “where's the rest of my crew? Everyone is here but Charles and Gary.”

“They're with my men,” Goodson gasped, his teeth rattling. “Boys thought they'd make a little sport of them, then dump them overboard. The little one in particular is far too feisty. Almost took out three of my men before we subdued him. They should be on the deck by now, having fun.”

“Fine!” Gene pushed him away. “Take us to them!”

Scoey slid out his own wicked-sharp knife as Jack tossed them weapons. “And if you don't, little man,” he ran a finger down the shining blade, “we could part that fancy hair of yours the hard way.”

Brett smirked. “You know, I think we ladies will hang back a bit. We'll meet you boys upstairs.” She nodded at Marcia, who grinned back. Sharon giggled, while Joyce gave her a big grin. “I have my own ideas on how to deal with Goodson's men in uniform.”

“Except me.” Lorrie tugged the smallest sailor's blouse over her head. “My husband's with Goodson's men. He's being watched every minute. We need to find him, too.”

“I'll stay with the ladies.” Bill Cullen leaned against a barrel of rum. “I'm no fighter. I'm better off helping them plan their next move.”

“Do we really have to take those guys on?” Bill Daily rambled as he tried to hitch up a pair of pants that were way too big. “Scoey and Richard Paul are the only ones who are as big as them. I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't want to be flattened like a pancake.”

Richard Paul tried to yank an officer's jacket around his ample belly. “Worst comes to worst, we could always send you and Brett to talk them to death.”

“You know, I could tell my boys none of you are with me,” Goodson reminded them, “and that will be the end of that.”

Robert Walden blocked him from leaving, shoving a pad of paper and a quill pen in his face. “I have a million questions I want to ask you about how you run things here and what your plans are for defeating the pirate fleet on the Atlantic. I've heard things about the kickbacks you give your higher-ups in New York, if you know what I mean.”

“Um, you know, Gene,” Goodson's blue eyes widened, sending him quickly back to his former officer. “I suddenly have this incredible need to show you my new mother-of-pearl cufflinks. Had them specially ordered from the emperor of China.”

Richard Dawson grabbed his other arm. “We don't want to hear it, Goodson. Answer this nice young man's questions and take us upstairs, before Gene and Officer Mitchilll decide to make you into tomorrow's party platters.”

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