Fire on Dark Water (27 page)
Read Fire on Dark Water Online
Authors: Wendy Perriman
And so the games began. The three naked men were made to run a gauntlet of striking weapons, round and round the edge of the deck, while the pitiless pirates whipped and lashed at their backs. The more exhausted they became, the slower their evasion, and one by one they crumpled into a battered, snuffling heap. I shot down to the cabin and reappeared with my nursing equipment but before I could cross to the other sloop Blackbeard caught my eye and motioned for me to stay put. Apparently the victims were to be shown no mercy. They were doused with buckets of dirty water, tied up to various cleats, and left to crust in their own secretions. Then one of the tars suggested that, as Blackbeard was now in command of a small navy, he should be promoted to commodore (to avoid confusion with Captains Bonnet, Richards, and Hands). The motion was carried—and Edward Teach smugly accepted the title with enough passing modesty to be almost convincing.
The officers on our sloop had watched the drama across deck with growing trepidation so each face visibly blanched as Blackbeard turned back to deal with them. I ain’t kidding when I tell you how scared they appeared. You could see their pupils visibly explode, misting their stares in petrifaction. Master Smith had edged away from his vomit and now was shaking so much his teeth could barely form the words of prayer. He huddled beneath his knotted brow, hoping against hope he would not be the first selected. Teach looked down at the mess splattered across the man’s lap and said, “Reckon you’ll be needing a clean, laddy.” He signaled to Gibbens, who unbuttoned his codpiece and began urinating all over the cowering form. “Aye, that’s the job, by cock!” The other pirates jeered as they followed suit dousing the spluttering officers in a blast of acrid pee. Then Blackbeard lifted Captain Elridge’s dripping chin with the tip of his boot, forcing him to make eye contact. When Teach ascertained he was ripe enough he bent to his ear and hissed, “Now, Cap’n. What remains?” Elridge offered up a blank visage.
“Where’s the booty hid?” Gibbens demanded to know.
“I . . . we . . . there’s no . . . nothing more . . .” Elridge gasped. “You have all.”
Blackbeard grabbed a hank of hair and ripped back his head, staring wildly into the horrified man’s void. “No gold?” The head bobbed, suspended on the twirling strand. “Silver?” Another negative shake. “Damn you to hell!” he cried, and released the locks with such force that the officer sprawled backward and hit his ear on the planking. Blackbeard pounded his cutlass into the deck and savored the vibrating handle as it twanged aloud his frustration. “Apothecary!” he cried. I suddenly realized that meant me and hurried to his side. Amazement dawned on the officers’ faces as they caught sight of whom they’d assumed to be merely a pretty cabin boy. “Go search yonder vessel.” I was thrilled to be dispatched on such an important mission, thinking it a sign that he trusted me most (although I later realized that as a former thief I’d know the best places to look). I was helped across the sides by an eager forest of hands and diligently began a methodical hunt of Elridge’s cabin. Nothing. It took me ages to figure out where they’d store any valuables, and it was only when I spotted something rare on the fore I became suspicious enough to investigate further. See, most sloops use mess-tubs and don’t have a head—but the
Fancy
boasted a lead-lined tunnel with an unusual seat of easement. And, sure enough, when I pinched my nose and stuck my hand in the entrance there was the ring to a secret compartment containing a metal box wrapped in a heavily tarred skin.
Fancy
boasted a lead-lined tunnel with an unusual seat of easement. And, sure enough, when I pinched my nose and stuck my hand in the entrance there was the ring to a secret compartment containing a metal box wrapped in a heavily tarred skin.
I took out the box, shook off the muck from my wrists, and triumphantly carried the find back to my husband. Blackbeard was highly amused when he’d heard where the booty was resting. He pried open the lid, pierced the contents on the end of a dagger, and pulled it out into open view. “What ho?” he cried. All eyes were riveted on the stuffed leather pouch he was wafting in the air. He grabbed the purse with his other hand and quickly opened the tie. It contained hundreds of pounds in coin. A satisfied roar rang out from the buccaneers. Blackbeard squeezed my shoulder and whispered, “Well done.” Then he pointed the knife at the deflated captain and ordered, “Tie him to the mast, by God. I’ve a mind to tear off his lying lips and make the bastard eat ’em!” And, good as his word, Teach watched as one of the tars sliced the captive’s unwise mouth into two smeary gashes and grinned when Slouchy took the lips to be boiled. The cook returned a short while later with the rubbery flesh diced into bite-sized pieces, but turned greenly away as Gibbens forced the bits into Elridge’s mangled mouth and made him swallow. I was torn between weird fascination and abject fear, wondering how much blame was mine for this poor man’s fate? But the rest of the crew rode the crests of delight intoxicated as much by the gory victory as by the emptying whiskey. Blackbeard’s eyes glowed with manic passion . . . and I got the first chilled inkling of what might happen if I ever dared to cross him.
Will Howard spoke on behalf of the gathering. “How shall we deal with the rest of them, Com’dore?”
“Shark bait!” hooted Gibbens.
“Maroon ’em!” someone else suggested.
“That was my first thought too, gentlemen,” Blackbeard announced. He called back across to the
Fancy
, “How far off land, Cap’n Hands?”
Fancy
, “How far off land, Cap’n Hands?”
The master surveyed the waters and gave his best guess as, “A ways, Cap’n. We’d have to divert some I reckon.”
Lieutenant Richards thought for a moment, then shouted, “The
Adventure
’s got a leaky boat. I say cut ’em loose—let ’em take their chances!” This idea met with general approval and when a vote was cast the ayes won out. So the three remaining officers were bundled across to the far sloop as the rest of the pirates ambled to their allocated crafts. The old longboat was set to sea with a jug of fresh water and some useless pieces of sailcloth—and Blackbeard made sure they were still close enough to witness the splash when Captain Elridge was violently flung to the fish.
Adventure
’s got a leaky boat. I say cut ’em loose—let ’em take their chances!” This idea met with general approval and when a vote was cast the ayes won out. So the three remaining officers were bundled across to the far sloop as the rest of the pirates ambled to their allocated crafts. The old longboat was set to sea with a jug of fresh water and some useless pieces of sailcloth—and Blackbeard made sure they were still close enough to witness the splash when Captain Elridge was violently flung to the fish.
Later that same night Teach made a grand toast about the good luck I’d brought to this cruise and persuaded the crew, somewhat begrudgingly, to welcome me into their ranks. I’d apparently discredited the old maritime superstition regarding seafaring women—and so that was that.
11
DEAD AND BE DAMNED AND THE REST GONE WHIST
LATE FALL, 1717
J
amaica was much more established than Providence but, unfortunately for us, it no longer welcomed swashbucklers. Now Blackbeard had told me many a tale he’d heard as a cabin boy about the wickedest city on earth—Port Royal—that had once been center of the buccaneer’s universe, before the earthquake of’92 sucked it to watery oblivion. Port Royal was a pit of iniquity full of cutthroats and whores, and a major center for trade where the townsfolk welcomed the Brethren of the Coast because a bay stuffed with ships discouraged any Spanish or French invasion. But when the stragglers who survived the disaster relocated on the other side of the Kingston Harbour, the British authorities finally decided to make their stand against piracy. So instead of jiggling their purses for the outlaws, the townsfolk now dangled their prison keys and nooses instead.
amaica was much more established than Providence but, unfortunately for us, it no longer welcomed swashbucklers. Now Blackbeard had told me many a tale he’d heard as a cabin boy about the wickedest city on earth—Port Royal—that had once been center of the buccaneer’s universe, before the earthquake of’92 sucked it to watery oblivion. Port Royal was a pit of iniquity full of cutthroats and whores, and a major center for trade where the townsfolk welcomed the Brethren of the Coast because a bay stuffed with ships discouraged any Spanish or French invasion. But when the stragglers who survived the disaster relocated on the other side of the Kingston Harbour, the British authorities finally decided to make their stand against piracy. So instead of jiggling their purses for the outlaws, the townsfolk now dangled their prison keys and nooses instead.
Kingston lies on the south of the island, so our flotilla docked north at Ocho Rios by the most spectacular waterfall I’d ever ever seen that dramatically swept over rocky steps climbing down from the lush vegetation. This bay was an amazing place—a tawdry town of vessels and huts—where old breeched ships had been turned into workshops and stalls, and slovenly merchants hired hordes of runaway slaves. There was a carpenter, shipwright, and goldsmith on one side, and a blacksmith’s fire pit dug close to the waters. On the opposite side were a string of shacks selling smoked fish, salted pork, nuts, fruits, and vegetables. And two wooden auction blocks were set back under a screen of leaves. Soon as we arrived everyone crowded out to the shoreline to see who we were and what blunt might be bartered. Our three sloops anchored side by side and the crew immediately set to moving the goods from hold to shore. Blackbeard and Bonnet sat on barrels in the shade discussing how the loot should be sold, then Ignatius Pell blew his whistle to summon the bidders and Will Howard began our trade. After folks had taken their pick, any remaining items were heaped together to be hauled back on board the
Revenge
, then the quartermasters shared out their crew’s pay, and the men wandered off to the rickety sheds back in the trees to buy themselves a tryst with some mulatto doxy, or to drink themselves beyond lust in the grog huts. One of the merchants asked Blackbeard if he could have a closer look at our bolts of cloth so I carefully unfurled the parcels for his perusal. He was particularly interested in the cloth of gold but didn’t seem willing to pay our hefty asking price. I raved about the brightness of the silk and the shine of the thread, extolling its merits for a sumptuous ball gown or waistcoat. The merchant turned to his minion, whispered something in his ear, and watched in satisfaction as the man leapt to a waiting horse and galloped along the shoreline. Then he gave us a doubloon to secure the bolt in his name until the morrow. I assumed he’d sent for his wife or lover—so imagine my surprise when a handsome boat arrived next afternoon bearing Chidley Bayard and his current delight, the proud Anne Bonny.
Revenge
, then the quartermasters shared out their crew’s pay, and the men wandered off to the rickety sheds back in the trees to buy themselves a tryst with some mulatto doxy, or to drink themselves beyond lust in the grog huts. One of the merchants asked Blackbeard if he could have a closer look at our bolts of cloth so I carefully unfurled the parcels for his perusal. He was particularly interested in the cloth of gold but didn’t seem willing to pay our hefty asking price. I raved about the brightness of the silk and the shine of the thread, extolling its merits for a sumptuous ball gown or waistcoat. The merchant turned to his minion, whispered something in his ear, and watched in satisfaction as the man leapt to a waiting horse and galloped along the shoreline. Then he gave us a doubloon to secure the bolt in his name until the morrow. I assumed he’d sent for his wife or lover—so imagine my surprise when a handsome boat arrived next afternoon bearing Chidley Bayard and his current delight, the proud Anne Bonny.
Anne looked like a legendary mermaid when carried from the sloop at the behest of her lover in the arms of a berry-black sailor, who took every attention to ensure her hem did not touch the water. The African held his mistress as if she were lighter than gossamer, ceremoniously placing her safely on the sand by the side of the master, careful that neither eye nor hand touch any inch of her shiny-shell skin. Bonny shook out her skirt and smiled a polite greeting at the sweating merchant who rushed over to assist them. I watched them shake hands and panicked as they turned in our direction. I grabbed Blackbeard’s arm and said, “O nay! Anne Bonny . . .”
“Ah, that’s the wench as sliced Maria Vargas as I recall,” my husband mused. Then he added, “Bayard always had exquisite taste and no denying.” He grinned ruefully at the young woman rapidly approaching our camp. I turned to make myself scarce but my husband took hold of my shoulder and held me in place. “Have no uneasiness, woman. I’ll not permit any mischief.” I stared gratefully into his raisin eyes and turned to face my enemy.
Now, I ain’t joking when I say I never saw Annie look no finer than on that particular day. She was really quite lovely—and obviously very happy with her present situation. As we came into vision she asked a tentative question of the merchant, then the look of surprise on her face revealed that she recognized the legendary Terror of the Seas. Unfazed, she held out her hand and said, “Captain Blackbeard, I presume?”
Teach took her fingers in his and bowed as he replied, “Commodore Edward Teach at your service, ma’am.” Then he shook hands with Bayard and slapped him on the shoulders as if they were old drinking mates.
Meanwhile, Anne’s chilly eyes had wandered disapprovingly over to me. She gave me a cursory glance of disdain, looked away, but immediately turned back as my image registered. “Lola?” she gasped. “What . . . What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Annie,” I mumbled.
“I thought you were still in Nassau. . . .”
“Nay, I’m—”
“She’s with me,” Blackbeard informed her. “May I present to you both—Mrs. Edward Teach.” And I saw him stifle his amusement at the shock that drained Anne’s slightly tanned cheek.
“She . . . You . . . Married?” she finally managed to spit out. We nodded simultaneously and held her narrowing stare.
Chidley Bayard, not remembering me, had no idea of our connection. He seemed anxious to be done with pirate trading and back on board the safety of his vessel. It obviously galled his sensibilities to be seen among the riffraff outside of Providence, but his merchant spy had located what Annie wanted. And so here they were. Bayard got down to business. He inquired, “I believe you have some cloth of gold, Commodore?”
“Aye,” Teach said. He signaled Will Howard to bring down the bale. While we were waiting, the merchant babbled to fill the uneasy silence growing between us and when the material eventually arrived Anne and Bayard discussed its value behind the backs of their hands.
“What cost the roll?” Annie asked, smiling archly at the buccaneer.
“Ten doubloons,” Blackbeard answered. And even I was taken aback at such a steep price. Anne caught her lover’s collar and took him away from our hearing. I glanced anxiously at my husband but he kept a stony face and waited on their response.
“Five . . .” Annie offered. “And I’ll not press my claim against your jade.”
The captain smiled ever so slightly and asked, “And what claim might that be, Mistress . . . ?”
“Cormac,” Annie replied in her most proper voice, “of the Black River Plantation in Charles Towne.” She pointed at me and added, “This wench is indentured and owes me another three years.”
“Be that so?” Blackbeard asked. I stood with my head down as they argued my fate. Then my husband gently opened my shirt and revealed the puckered scar above my breast left from Annie’s attack. “So you are responsible for this I fancy?” His eyes held Annie’s in a burning glare.
Bayard turned away in embarrassment but Anne maintained the captain’s gaze and replied, “Aye. She’s trouble that one is.”
Blackbeard chuckled and said lowly, “Then I warrant you’ll reward me for taking her off your hands.” Anne waited to hear what came next. “Thus . . . if I let you have the cloth for
twelve
doubloons I reckon we’ll have struck a mutual bargain.”
twelve
doubloons I reckon we’ll have struck a mutual bargain.”
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