Jim Morgan and the Pirates of the Black Skull (14 page)

“Who’s there?” Jim demanded, searching for the owner of the voice in the shadows.

“No one to fear, Mr. Jim Morgan – no, no, not little old me,” the voice continued, deep and throaty. It held each syllable upon its tongue as if to savor the taste of every word. “I’m simply an old sea traveler looking to make the acquaintance of the famous Jim Morgan.”
With that, from the blackness above a barrel lashed to the starboard railing, two emerald orbs burned to life in the night.

Jim strangled a gasp in his throat. He had seen such eyes in the dark before. The beast that had owned them had once hunted Jim and very nearly eaten him for dinner. But the voice belonging to this pair of floating eyes only laughed at Jim’s fear. The orbs bobbed and bounced lightly until the bushy-tailed frame of a large black cat slunk into the moon’s pale blue light.

“Greetings,” purred the cat, dipping his black head low. He smiled with bright white teeth that all but shone against his midnight fur. “Janus Blacktail, at your service, Master Morgan.”

“You’re a talking cat?” Jim asked, eyeing the dark feline with skeptical curiosity.

“An astute observation, young sir,” said Janus, laughing again with a coughing purr. “Nothing gets past you, does it?” Even in his surprise at running into yet another talking animal, Jim still knew when he was being made fun of. He found himself in no mood for teasing.

“It’s not very nice to make fun of someone you’ve just met, is it? And what are you doing lurking around here anyway? Cornelius never mentioned you. I thought he was the only talking animal on this ship.” At the sound of Cornelius’s name, the black cat scratched his claws on the barrel’s lid and rolled his green eyes.

“Cornelius Darkfeather? That old stick in the mud and I have crossed paths many times. It comes as no great surprise he has not bothered to mention me. As I’m sure you know, Mr. Morgan, birds and cats do not exactly make best friends.” Janus ran his tongue over his sharp teeth, laughing aloud. He leapt from the barrel onto the railing and slowly slunk his way up beside Jim. “Besides all that, I’m not really what you might call an official member of the crew, if you know what I mean. I’m something of a stowaway, and I tend to stick to the shadows. I’m a homeless, lost soul, my boy - very much like yourself from what I hear.” That last part stung Jim. He bit his lip, forcing the image of his burning house from his mind. “But don’t think of me as a
freeloader, please,” the cat continued. “Oh no, no, no, not in the least! The lads on the ships tolerate me hitching a ride every now and again because I provide the most valuable service of catching mice and rats.”

“I see,” said Jim warily, taking a step or two back. He was not very sure he liked this Mr. Blacktail very much at all. In fact, he was thinking it wise to head back to bed, and be sure to let Dread Steele and Cornelius know they had a magical stowaway on board first thing in the morning.

“Well, anyway, as I was saying in regards to your woeful query to the night sky,” Janus said, turning a slow circle on the railing and stretching his back into a high arch. “I, nor anyone else I know, has any idea at all why all the horrors you so lament have happened to you. But, as I said, if you’re looking for someone to blame, you could start with the Pirates of the Black Skull.”

“Pirates of the Black Skull?” Jim asked. In two quick flashes he remembered both the dark image on the back of his father’s painting and the terrifying face in the crimson cloud of his nightmares. “I’ve never heard of them before.”

“Ah yes, it is a fascinating tale indeed! You know, I will say this about old Darkfeather and I - we both share an affinity for storytelling, though for entirely different reasons. Cornelius loves to make people laugh or teach young sailors important lessons. How dull! I like stories because stories hold secrets. You see, secrets are ever more decadent, ever more filling, and ever more satisfying than even rats and mice - and they leave no fur stuck in my teeth. I expect you understand the value of secrets at least a little, boy. After all, I doubt you’ve told anyone
everything
you saw and heard and did in the Pirate Vault of Treasures, when you so gallantly won the Amulet of Portunes.”

“How do you know about that?” Jim asked, freezing where he stood and not intending his surprise to leap so obviously onto his face.

“Haha!” Janus laughed. “You see? Secrets are so much fun! There are so many fools out there running around, digging in the sand for buried gold or diving beneath the waves for sunken treasure. A whispered secret is worth more than a thousand pieces of eight and can buy
you more than a hundred crown jewels. The hint of a good secret gets at men’s minds. It tickles their souls and gets just under their skin like an itch that needs to be scratched.” As if to demonstrate his point, the black cat reached out with a deft paw and left a small claw scratch on the back of Jim’s hand.

“Ouch!” Jim yelped. He drew back his hand as much from surprise as pain. The little cut was hardly deep enough to draw blood, but the urge to grab the stupid cat by the tail and hurl him overboard suddenly burned in Jim’s chest. But once again, the cat spoke before Jim could lose his temper

“Fear not and be not offended – I but jest! I will give you the secret of the Pirates of the Black Skull in its entirety, and for my very best price, Jim Morgan. I will trade you a secret for a secret.”

“I’m not giving you any sort of secret, cat,” Jim said. But Janus Blacktail only laughed his purring chuckle, sauntering back and forth along the railing. “Besides, I don’t have any that are any good to begin with.”

“We shall see, my young friend, we shall see. I can be very purrrsua-sive, you know,” the cat laughed at his own pun and swished his tail back and forth. “I’m sure one of these days you’ll know something worth knowing, and then we shall speak again. But for now, relax. You’ll see I’m not such a bad chap. Listen closely and I shall spin you a secret, Jim Morgan.” The cat turned from Jim and stared off to the moon, which hung low over the horizon. His green eyes sparkled like flames in the pale light. Slowly and lyrically, as a master storyteller should, the cat began his tale.

“To begin this story, we travel back in time, when men who are now old were still young - young and brave…and foolish…”

FOURTEEN

nce there were four friends. They were young, gifted, and full of dreams to change the world. Each was a master of his own, unique set of skills. There was the Sailor, the Schemer, the Warrior, and the Thief. The four first met at university, though the Schemer and the Warrior were older than the Sailor and the Thief. But all four shared this in common: they all believed they would change the world and the world would be better for it.”

“After the Schemer and the Warrior had left school, the Thief and the Sailor became the best of friends. They competed with each other in all things, but with no loss nor victory stronger than their bond. Over the course of the next few, happy years, the two of them all but forgot about their dreams to change the world. Instead they spoke of
nothing but becoming captains of great ships and sailing the sea, finding wives, and growing rich and old. Time passed. The two friends left school to chase these new ambitions. But one night, under a full moon in autumn, when the air first turned cold, the Schemer and the Warrior returned. Together they sought out the Sailor and the Thief.”

Immediately, the Thief, who was perhaps even more clever than the Schemer himself, knew some great change had come over his old friends.”

“My friends,” said the Thief. “What has happened since last we met? You seem different. It shows in your very faces.”

“Our eyes have been opened,” said the Schemer. “We have seen magic, old friend. Real magic, with the power to truly change the world.”

“Magic?” said the Sailor. He was a very practical man and also knew the Schemer to be prone to lies and exaggerations. “There’s no such thing as magic.”

“He speaks the truth!” cried the Warrior, who was quick to anger but always spoke plainly to all men, for he had no fear. So the Thief and the Sailor finally believed.

“My good, good friends,” the Schemer continued. “Do you not remember all our dreams and all our talks of changing the world? Of making it a better place and a truer place if only men like ourselves could rule it? When we were boys, it was but a dream, but I have found a way to make it reality.”

The Sailor remained skeptical, but the Thief’s mind was taken with the idea. His heart quickly remembered all his youthful dreams. So he convinced his best friend, the Sailor, to come along, if nothing else but to lay eyes on this fantastic magic of which the Schemer spoke. Together the four friends left England and traveled to far off places, joined by an infamous pirate crew that sailed under a black flag.”

Many adventures did the four friends share, and many dangers they did face, until they finally came to a distant island. There the Schemer led his comrades to a series of stones, engraved with an ancient tale of magic and power. There was a Treasure, the Schemer explained, a
Treasure that was the key to the power that would change the world. When found, the Treasure must be taken to an ancient temple upon a rock, and only there could the magic be unleashed. And only then by a Son of Earth and a Son of Sea.”

Jim’s heart skipped a beat in his chest and he nearly opened his mouth to interrupt the cat’s tale. He had heard those words before: Son of Earth and Son of Sea. He’d heard them long ago in the back of a gypsy wagon from an old gypsy witch named Baba Yaga. The witch had called Jim the Son of Earth and Son of Sea. But Jim kept that to himself, for he did not fully trust the black cat.

“Now the Thief’s eyes were as opened as the Schemer’s and the Warrior’s. His heart burned with desire for magic and power. Only the Sailor, the most practical man of the sea, remained concerned. He did not fully trust the Schemer’s intentions. He tried to convince the others, especially his good friend, the Thief, to abandon this foolish quest. But once the seed of power is planted in a man’s heart, the roots grow quickly and take deep hold.

“Who or what is this Son of Earth and Son of Sea?” the Sailor asked. “For if this plan is to work, we shall need such a man, will we not?”

“Leave that to me,” said the Schemer, but he would say no more.

“It was only because of his great love for his friend, the Thief, that the Sailor agreed to go along. So the four men made a pact, a pact to find this Treasure of the Ocean, and to use it to change the world – to rid it of all its injustices and wrongs. Or so the Thief and the Sailor thought. They sealed the pact and called themselves the Pirates of the Black Skull.

“Together the four men travelled to the far away Kingdom of the Sea, ruled by a powerful King called Nemus. It was Nemus who possessed the ancient talisman, the Treasure of the Ocean. The Warrior suggested they storm Nemus’s keep and take the treasure by force. The Schemer conceived an elaborate plan to pit the King of the Sea against the Kings of the Earth, and by that way come away with the Treasure. The Sailor more and more wanted nothing but to quit this
adventure and return home. But the Thief was cleverer than them all. He convinced them of a plan to earn Nemus’s trust by accomplishing three impossible tasks for Nemus – each bringing the King of the Sea a great reward.”

“With each task the four friends completed, and with each reward they brought Nemus, the King allowed them deeper into his circle. When the third task was complete, he called the men Friends of the Sea, which made them as close to him as sons.”

“It was then that the Thief struck, and a masterstroke it was. In the middle of the night he stole from Nemus not just one treasure, but three. Three treasures, said the Thief, one for each great task the four friends had completed in Nemus’s name.”

“It is not known what treasures the three were. One of them was certainly the Treasure of the Ocean, the great power told of in the engravings upon the stones. But it is whispered on certain ships on certain nights, that it was not that loss that hurt old King Nemus the worst. It was the theft of another treasure: one called simply the Flower of Nemus, which cut him deepest. No one knows what such a treasure was, nor how great was its worth.”