The Pirate Raiders (3 page)

  “It is,” I replied.

  “Then why on earth is he calling upon a pirate to seize another pirate?”

Gordon stared at me and waited for a response.  I wanted to tell him that Governor Winters claimed he had already lost one Royal Navy ship to the power of the ring Captain Trimble possessed, but of course I’d left the supernatural details out.  “He called upon us for two reasons,” I finally answered.  “Firstly, a pirate that is fighting for a chance to live, as we all are, is far more dangerous than any buffoon sworn to the Royal Navy.”

  “And the second reason?”  Gordon inquired.

  “Because I’m the infamous Captain Redd Reeves of course,” I said, swelling with pride.

  “That you are,” Langley agreed.

Gordon was unable to stifle a smile.  It was at that moment, I knew I had the both of them on my side.  “Gentlemen, I’ve never steered you wrong before, have I?”

They both looked at each other.  Gordon reluctantly shook his head and tapped his fingers on the table.  “No, captain, you have not.”

  “I’m not going to start tonight either,” I assured them.

A barmaid refilled Langley’s mug, but instead of chugging it down, he stared into the dark liquid as he thought.  Gordon continued to drum his fingers on the table and allowed his eyes to move toward the window overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.  They were both still mulling it over.

  “The rest of the men will be a lot more comfortable with this if they know the two of you are confident about it,” I continued.  “For there to be any chance of success, I need the two of you on board that ship with me.  So what’s it going to be?  Can I count on the two of you or not?”

Langley snatched up the wooden mug, sloshing the liquid all over the table.  He drank what was left in a matter of seconds before slamming the mug back on to the wooden surface again.  “Of course I’m with you, Cap’n.”

I smiled, and he smiled a snaggle-toothed grin back in reply.  “What about you Gordon?”

Gordon put his elbows on the table and rested his face in his palms.  He drew a deep breath before moving his hands away again.  “Of course I’m in,” he said quietly.

  “Very well then;
I knew I could count on the both of you,” I said proudly.  “Now, that that is out of the way, there is another reason why I wanted the two of you to accompany me and not partake in the nights festivities.”

Gordon and Langley stared at me with worried expressions.  They clearly weren’t interested in any more surprises tonight.  Unfortunately, I had one more.  It was time to discuss the message I’d received, and then burned, from the governor.  “I think that now is the appropriate time to discuss the message I burned outside of Fort Charles,” I said.  Langley and Gordon leaned forward on the table with obvious intrigue as they waited anxiously for me to continue.  “There’s no doubt that Governor Winters wants us to succeed in finding Captain Trimble as soon as possible,” I continued.  “The message that was delivered to me indicated that a member of Trimble’s crew was recently picked up on a tiny spot of land near the Leeward Islands.”

  “He was marooned?” Gordon asked.

  “Apparently so,” I replied.  “The pirate goes by the name Andy Bonnet.  According to the governor’s message, he was captured several weeks ago and brought to Port Royal.  He was imprisoned at Fort Charles and tried for his crimes of piracy earlier this morning.  It seems that Mr. Bonnet was found guilty and will be taken to Gallows Point early tomorrow morning to be hanged.”

  “That’s interesting,” Gordon said.  “But I fail to see how this news is supposed to help us.”

  “I think it’s safe to assume that Mr. Bonnet may have information that could, at the very least, point us in the general direction of Captain Trimble.  He would know valuable information regarding Trimble’s habits.”

  “Habits?” Langley asked, the rum beginning to slur his voice.

  “Yes,” I replied.  “His favorite taverns, brothels, and even his favorite spots to careen his ship.  I’m sure Bonnet has some idea of where Trimble was headed before he was marooned.  Any information he could provide may give us a heading that we may have otherwise spent days or weeks trying to find on our own.”

  “Are you saying that the governor will allow us to question Andy Bonnet before he is hanged?” Gordon asked.

  “No.”

Gordon gave me a blank stare.  “Then how on God’s earth is this information supposed to help us?”

  “The message stated that Andy Bonnet will be transported by prison carriage tonight around the nine o’clock hour.  Two guards will be moving him from Fort Charles to a small prison near
Gallows' Point.”

Gordon began to shake his head as he finally understood where this was going.  “Captain, you can’t possibly be serious.  You want Langley and me to assist you in helping this man escape?”

  “Aye, you’re finally catching on,” I replied with a smile.  “The governor even provided the route that they’re planning to take, and I’ve got it all right here,” I said, pointing to the side of my head.  “The final line of the message instructed me to destroy it.  It’s obvious that Governor Winters wants us to go after Bonnet, but he doesn’t want any part in it.  If we’re caught, we’ll probably hang right next to Bonnet in the morning.”

  “Then we better not get caught,” Langley said, standing up from the table.  “What are we waiting for?  Let’s go.”

God love Oliver Langley
, I thought. 
Get a little rum in him and he becomes invincible…

  “That’s the spirit,” Gordon said, his words oozing sarcasm.  “Follow him like the dumb sheep that you are.”

Langley narrowed his eyes on Gordon and clinched his fists.  If I didn’t talk fast the two of them would be scrapping like wolves in a matter of minutes and my plans for the night would be damned.  “Langley, what Gordon is trying to say,” I said softly, “is that we need to discuss our plan before going at this blindly.  However, I do appreciate your bravery,” I added for good measure. 

The crow’s feet next to Langley’s eyes softened along with the r
est of his expression.  “Yes,” he said, sitting back down.  “I suppose that is a good idea.”

Gordon rolled his eyes.  His sour expression indicated he wanted no part of this and probably wanted to be anywhere but here right now.  Nevertheless, I told them my plan. 

  “According to the message, the prison carriage always takes the same route to Gallows' Point.  They will travel east along Parade Tower Street until they reach the Old Church.  They will then turn right on High Street and make their way through the Produce District.  The very next left will lead them just beyond Gallows' Point and at nearby Marshall Sea Prison.  That is their final destination.”

  “That particular prison is between Fort Carlisle and Fort Rupert,” Gordon stated, a genuinely concerned look on his face.  “Marshall Sea Prison is only half a mile from either fort.  I certainly hope you plan on breaking Mr. Bonnet out before you get on the other side of the Market District.”

  “I intend to do just that,” I replied with a smile.  “I’m pleased to learn you’re familiar with that end of town, Gordon.”  Pirates tended to stay away from the eastern end of town.  If the courthouse, prisons, and forts weren’t enough to keep them away, the rotting corpses hanging at Gallows' Point were.  It was common for a pirate’s body to remain hanging near the cliff to serve as a warning to all pirates visiting Port Royal. 

  “As you know,” Gordon replied.  “I was not always a pirate.  I spent my fair share of time on that end of the city back when I was still an honest seaman.”

  “Your knowledge of that part of the city will serve you well tonight.  Now,” I continued, “as you pointed out, I will need to free Mr. Bonnet before the prison carriage makes it through the Market District.  There is a very large oak tree near the Old Church graveyard.  The tree is massive and the branches reach out over the street like an old man’s withered fingers.  When carriages pass under the tree, I swear that they don’t clear the branches by any more than four or five feet.  Gentlemen, when the prison carriage passes under that tree tonight, I will be on one of those branches waiting.  I’ll drop right onto the roof of the carriage and the guards will not even know I’m there.”

Langley smiled a wide, yellow-toothed grin.  “That’s mighty clever Cap’n,” he said.

  “You may as well be chum getting thrown to sharks,” Gordon quipped, his words erasing Langley’s smile.  “May I ask just how do you plan on overtaking the two guards?  They will no doubt be armed with swords and pistols, or maybe even a musket!”

  “Right you are, Gordon.  The only way I’ll be able to overtake those buggers is if something, or someone, distracts them first,” I said, staring at him.  “That’s where
you
come in my friend.”

Gordon immediately held up his hands to wave me off.  “No, no, captain,” he said nervously.  “You don’t need me to distract them.”  He looked at Langley and hooked a thumb toward him.  “Sounds like a job for this boozy bloke.”

I saw the anger begin to build in Langley again and I responded quickly to diffuse it.  “I’m afraid that Langley has the most important job of all,” I said. 

Langley gave Gordon a narrow glance and leaned forward with a mixture of pride and unbridled anticipation etched on his weathered face.  “Tell me, Cap’n…what do you need me to do?”

Chapter 3
:

Gordon retched as I smeared horse manure over his clothes, and worse yet, his face.  I knew it had to be agonizing for a man so well kempt to endure what I was putting him through, but I was convinced it was necessary for my plan to work. 

  “Please be still,” I scolded him.  “We’ve got to get you smelling bad enough that the guards don’t want to get anywhere near you.”  I took a moment to glance around in both directions to make sure no one was watching us.  We were crouched down behind a massive tombstone in the center of the graveyard.  Each row of tombstones, all of them different heights, reminded me of Langley’s jagged teeth.  As I thought of him, I hoped he would be in position and ready the very moment I needed him, our lives could depend on it.

Once we’d left The Parrot’s Landing, and got out of Langley’s earshot, Gordon wasted no time chastising me for giving him such an important job after he’d chugged down so much rum.  I immediately reminded him that Langley seemed to be his best at the helm after he’d gotten a little rum in his belly.  I knew my rebuttal did little to ease Gordon’s concerns, but fortunately he dropped the subject altogether.

The large graveyard was a convenient place for us to prepare and wait for the right moment to take our positions before the prison carriage rolled down High Street.  It was deserted and more importantly, it was in close proximity to The Old Church. 

  “That should do it,” I said, wiping what was left of the manure on my hand off on Gordon’s pant leg.  

  “I’m beginning to think I got the short end of this stick,” he said, frowning.  “Remind me again why I agreed to do this.”

  “Fear of the noose,” I replied thoughtfully.  I snatched an old blue neckerchief from my coat pocket and folded it into a triangle.  I quickly tied it around the back of my head and carefully positioned it to conceal my nose and mouth.  “How do I look?”

  “If you wanted to conceal your face, a coating of horse manure would’ve probably worked just as well,” Gordon quipped. 

I grinned, knowing full well he would be unable to see my expression beneath the neckerchief.  “Let’s get into position,” I said, walking toward the large oak tree.  Gordon grumbled incoherently and made his way to his hiding spot behind a large boulder resting under a thatch palm. 

Fortunately, there was a limb low enough to the ground that allowed me to jump up and grab it with both hands.  After pulling up the rest of my body, I carefully made my way to the other side of the tree and onto the large limb hanging over High Street.  I stood on the branch and looked behind me. 
No carriage yet.

All I could do now was wait.  I glanced down at the boulder Gordon was supposed to be hiding behind.  The fact I was unable to see him gave me a brief sensation of panic, but then I remembered his total concealment was exactly what we were aiming for.  I checked my chest once more to make certain that I had two pistols strapped there and ready to fire.  If things went as planned, there would be no reason to fire either of the weapons, but I wouldn’t hesitate to do so if it became necessary.  Lastly, I took a moment to adjust the tricorn atop my head.  I wanted to make sure it was as snug as possible; this little mission wouldn’t be considered a success in my mind if I lost it.     

While waiting, my thoughts drifted to Captain Winston Trimble.  Finding the elusive captain would be difficult and very dangerous.  I’d never met the man, but I, like many others, had heard countless stories about him.  Legend has it that Captain Trimble doesn’t feel pain—emotional or physical.  It made my blood run cold to think of a man that my pistol wouldn’t slow down; I’d never encountered any man like that before.  I hoped the stories I’d heard about him being unable to feel pain were nothing more than legend. 

Sailors tremble at the sight of Captain Trimble
.  That was the catchy phrase worked in during almost any conversation regarding the ruthless captain.  I’d heard stories about sailors committing suicide as soon as they spotted the red flag flying proudly above the
Sea Witch
on the horizon.  I can’t say that I blame them.  Better to leave this world on your own terms than in the sick and demented ways Captain Trimble would have you go.   

I felt a sudden jab of pain on my left hand, the result of a pebble Gordon had thrown to get my attention.  I looked down at him and saw that he was motioning for me to look back.  Before I even had time to whirl around, I could hear the
clip-clop clip-clop
of hooves approaching. 

I quickly got into position; my heart began to race as I realized I’d only have one chance to get this right.  One mistake and the armed guards would easily kill me.  I glanced back at the approaching carriage once more and realized that I needed to move a few feet to the left or I’d miss it entirely.  It was hard to make myself tiptoe briskly across the limb, but I made myself do it and managed to keep hidden all at the same time. 

Two horses, side by side, trotted under me, immediately followed by the two guards seated on a red leather cushion.  I reached outward for a sturdy, low-hanging branch a few feet in front of me and then carefully swung forward, landing quietly onto the roof of the prison carriage as it simultaneously rolled beneath me.

Just as I crouched down, the carriage began to slow.  Glancing ahead, I noticed a drunken, filthy man stumble into the dusty road.  The carriage came to an abrupt halt. 

  “Get out of the way, you blundering fool,” one of the guards commanded harshly.

The ‘blundering fool’ he was referring to was Gordon, of course. 

Gordon slurred an incoherent response, raised his fist at the guards in defiance, and then passed out on the road; an empty bottle of rum fell from his hand and spun into the middle of the road.  The other guard seemed amused, and began to chuckle.  The first guard spoke again and his tone remained harsh. Although he seemed to believe Gordon’s performance was authentic, it was clear he found no humor in it. 

  “I said get out of the way, fool!” he said again.

Gordon remained still.

  “If you don’t get out of the way, I’ll throw you in the back of this carriage,” he barked.      “You’ll hang right nicely with all the other scum.”

  “Albert, can’t you see the bloody man is passed out?”  The other guard asked, a bit of pity in his voice. “Come along and help me get him out of the way.”

  “Are you mad?  He smells like horse dung!”

  “Well, either we move him or we run him over.”

  “Then it’s settled, we run him over,” Albert quipped.

The other guard stifled a chuckle, but thankfully stayed diligent.  “Come along, let’s get this over with,” he said.

He began to rise from his seat; Albert sighed deeply but reluctantly did the same.  As soon as they were both standing, they instantly froze as they heard me pull back both hammers on my pistols. 

  “Put both of your grubby paws up, very slowly,” I ordered in a stern voice.  They both obliged, but Albert started to turn around to face me.  “Albert, I’d keep that nose pointed east, mate--unless of course you’d like to lose it.”

  “You’ll hang for this,” he replied back through clenched teeth.

  “Gentlemen, no one is hanging tonight,” Gordon, now on his feet and holding a blunderbuss, replied.  “Throw any weapons you’ve got onto the street.”  Both guards glanced silently at each other.  It was obvious they were contemplating trying something stupid.  “You only get one warning,” Gordon stated, reading their thoughts.  There was another moment of hesitation.  Gordon pulled back the hammer on the blunderbuss.  This time the guards hurriedly threw pistols and swords onto the street.

  “I want both of you to slowly exit the carriage,” I commanded.  This time there was no verbal response from Albert.  Both of the guards did as they were told. 

  “Walk into the graveyard,” Gordon ordered and again they did as they were told. 

He then snatched a ring of keys off a loop on Albert’s pants and tossed it to me.  I made my way down onto the carriage’s red cushioned seat and just as I was about to grab a side rail and swing around to release Andy Bonnet, our plan began to unravel.  I noticed a redcoat on horseback rounding the corner at Tower Street.  As soon as I saw him, I froze, hoping deep down that if I was still enough and quiet enough he wouldn’t see me.  For a brief moment, it seemed that my silent prayers would work.  He didn’t even give me a passing glance and prepared to turn toward York Street.  But then Albert noticed him too.   

  “Jail break!” he barked.  “Jail break!”

The red coat turned toward us and immediately realized what was happening.  He held two fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly.  I could hear at least two more horses galloping from somewhere out of view, probably further down York Street. 

I glanced in Gordon’s direction but there was no need for me to beckon him.  He was already climbing on board the carriage. 

  “Quickly, grab the reigns!”

As soon as Gordon had the carriage moving, I grabbed the side rail and swung around to unlock the prison door.  I took a quick glance behind us and saw what I expected.  Three red coats were thundering toward us, their horses in full sprint.  I forced myself to look away and put my focus back on the key ring.  There were at least ten different keys to choose from on the ring.  I estimated that I only had enough time to try about three of them before the red coats caught up to us.  I jabbed the first key into the hole…it didn’t work.  I tried another key with the same frustrating result.  A pair of shackled hands suddenly poked out from between the bars of the door’s window.  I peered into the carriage and realized the hands belonged to Andy Bonnett.  His head was covered with a black bag, and I could hear him speak, but the sound was so muffled I was unable to understand what he was saying.  I thrust the ring of keys into his hands. 

  “Here mate,” I shouted.  “Get your shackles off and then work on getting this door open.  I’ve got bigger problems right now.” 

Apparently Andy understood because he wasted no time yanking the keys into the carriage with him. 

There was a sudden thunderous
boom
from the road behind us followed immediately by a
clang
and a spark of light off the handrail I was holding onto.  The shot had been fired from the soldier nearest to me, but fortunately his aim was off. 

For lack of a better term, it scared the hell out of me.  I involuntarily let go of the rail for a brief instant, but it was a long enough moment to almost kill me.  I fell toward the ground but managed to grab one of the metal steps below the door on the way down.  I hung on to the steps as if my life depended on it, and considering the fact that my legs were now being dragged dangerously close to the rear wheels of the carriage, my life really
did
depend on it.  I started to pull myself back up, but immediately stopped when I noticed a horse galloping a few feet away from me.  I glanced up at the rider and was greeted with a pistol pointed toward my head.  I was a sitting duck.  There was nothing I could do but close my eyes and wait on my imminent death. 

I heard a loud explosion, but the death I expected never came.  I opened my eyes and saw my attacker rolling across the dusty street behind us.  His now rider-less horse veered away and disappeared onto another street.  I looked up and was surprised to see Gordon peering down at me from around the front corner of the carriage, the blunderbuss smoking in his right hand.  I gave him a nod of gratitude and then immediately went back to work pulling myself up.  I knew there were two more soldiers on horseback approaching and if I was going to have any chance at dealing with them I had to get back on my feet. 

The carriage door suddenly swung open and a helping hand appeared in my line of sight.  Without hesitation, I took Andy’s hand—his tiny, boyish hand—and after a few moments of exertion I found myself lying on the inside of the prison carriage, at least temporarily safe from our pursuers.  I got my first look at Andy and although the wide-brimmed hat he was wearing obscured some of his face, it was still plain to see he was only a lad, no more than seventeen or eighteen at the most. 

  “Are you alright sir?” he asked me, very politely.

  “I am lad, thanks a lot for the help.”  I tossed him one of my pistols and some shot.  “Reload and get ready, this may get a bit nasty,” I told him as I prepared my own weapon. 

  “We’re approaching the court house!” Gordon yelled from outside.  “We need to get in position!”