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Authors: Steve V Cypert

BOOK: Port of Errors
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Some of the other men noticed that the supposed
banshee
or
Old Roger
was physically and frantically splashing about just beyond the flame-flooded ship. Eventually, Don Reina was fished out with a few minor burns. Black-Hearted, refusing to give his name, acted as though he were under the Queen’s command.

Don Reina, mildly burnt, swore, “Sir, you shall hang by your neck until you are dead for this insufferable outrage! We have the right of passage, signed by Queen Anne’s own hand.”


Hanging by the neck until I’m dead?
” questioned Black-Hearted. “That thought does not help your situation, Mate.”

After preparing his heart-shaped ring with ink, Black-Hearted put a hot flame to it, sadistically blistering his own finger in the process; a finger which had long since lost all feeling when it was broken and set crooked as a young boy. Watching in disgust, Don Reina cringed. “Are you insane?” he asked, now even more fearful of Black-Hearted’s mental state. “What are you doing?” Taking him by the wrist, Black-Hearted forced Don Reina’s hand to a palm-down position. “What do you intend to do?” he grunted, squirming and fighting in vain against Black-Hearted’s strong grip. “What do you intend to do?” Unsympathetically, Black-Hearted branded the back of Don Reina’s hand, ripping the ring violently away and taking with it a portion of skin. Don Reina let out a horrific scream. His fear only intensified when Black-Hearted tossed him back into the sea. “I don’t deserve this!” he cried, smacking the water with a force indicative of a thirty foot free fall.

Gunner stood over one of the dead bodies lying on the main deck and stuck his dagger deep within its chest. He sliced violently downward to its navel and ripped it out again in a sadistic manner, until the clothing was drenched in blood. He then lifted the body over the gunwale and pushed it overboard, close to Don Reina.

Gunner shouted out to Don Reina, “You never live through this to tell a soul. You’ll be a feast for the horde.”

Black-Hearted added, “See, now I need not worry about hanging by the neck until I’m dead. Good Day Don Reina!” He then carelessly sailed off, leaving Reina to his demise.

Only the crackling of the ships timbers could be heard in the quiet of the sea. Chills ran through Reina’s body with the anticipation of what surely awaited. And then it happened. A large shark approached the disfigured body that Gunner had thrown overboard and ripped into its leg. One turned into a few, and a few into a horde. They quickly devoured the dead and dying bodies. Don Reina, however, continued to remain amazingly unscathed.

The Rogue had set sail for Raven Bridges to meet up with Roger’s Jolly. From there, Black-Hearted planned on sailing to Port of Errors to meet Scurvy, who was currently on his way to further plans with him and Mr. Darcy.

 

Chapter IX

After a few tiresome days later, hoping to find la Real before Black-Hearted, the Crimson Reef arrived at the remains of the once Spanish merchant ship.

“Ahoy the main deck!” cried the watchman. “In the water, fifteen yards portside!”

Don Reina was still alive, though he could hardly keep his eyes open. When they plucked him from the sea, he was in the final stages of hypothermia. The harsh sun over the past few days in combination with the cold temperatures over the ensuing nights had weathered his waterlogged body. Shivering cold and delirious, he was dehydrated which led to him smelling of his own excrement. Captain Stirvin quickly saw to it that his injuries were properly treated since his burns were more than just moderate. Offering fresh water and a bite or two, he stuffed everything he could into his mouth and began to weep. Finally able to allow his body rest, Don Reina just passed out. Captain Stirvin personally carried his limp body to the captain’s chambers and placed him on his own bed.

Noticing the burn on the back of his hand, Captain Stirvin discerned the mark. He quickly recalled to his mind Mr. Wresfin, who claimed Black-Hearted had branded the same black heart upon the back side of his hand.

Unable to speak in his unconscious state, Captain Stirvin would have to wait to question him. A few days passed and the Crimson Reef came to rest at the London Harbor. Before they arrived, Don Reina was sitting up and rehearsed all that had happened. In this brief conversation, Don Reina confirmed, “It has been five days since the attack. If my crew did survive, word of this incident has most certainly found its way back to King Philip. You will need to act quickly if you are to save relations.”

When Captain Stirvin arrived at the Royal Estate, Queen Anne was livid. “So, this Spanish vessel was attacked in my name? Do you have any idea how this makes England look? Do you have any idea how this makes me look? I granted la Real the right of passage, only to be seen as the aggressor! Every country sympathetic toward Spain along with our own allies will be outraged.”

“I’m sorry, my Queen. When we arrived, the attack had already been carried out,” explained Captain Stirvin as he bowed and knelt. “The fault is mine, I was too late.”

“I am immediately dispatching a ship to Spain along with a correspondence clarifying the circumstances,” explained Queen Anne. “Be sure Don Reina is aboard that dispatch. Upon Admiral Flynn’s return, following the delivery of this correspondence, he will depart for Spain to personally smooth things over, if at all possible.”

“I’ll have Don Reina aboard the dispatch before the day is out. Admiral Flynn may yet be a few days, Your Majesty. He continues his search for la Real. We were to meet in the council chamber two days hence. I hope this will give adequate time.”

“The letter I am sending should make do until Admiral Flynn’s return,” assured the Queen. “I hope to resolve this matter with King Philip before the week is out.

“I am optimistic we will succeed, My Queen,” replied Captain Stirvin. “However,” he continued, “there are further details you must know. Count Reina carried with him documents that forge a deeper relationship with France. Once Don Reina returns to Spain, the alliance between France and Spain will be made final. They had also hoped to bring Denmark into their alliance, but this they could not bring to pass.”

“If word gets out that we have attacked this innocent Spanish vessel without incident, we will undoubtedly be left to ourselves, without a single ally. Nothing will stop Spain or France from rallying a greater alliance together, including Demark, Savoy and others. It will be they, not I who will rule these waters. And that is unacceptable!”

“If it pleases Your Majesty, allow me to escort the Don to Spain,” Suggested Captain Stirvin. “I can weigh anchor within the hour and speed word to King Philip…”

Queen Anne immediately cut him off. “What you will do, Captain, is assure me that Don Reina boards that ship! You will then set sail and, by whatever means necessary, bring that pirate to justice. He is to be hanged as soon as is possible! Unless you specifically see fit, for the security of this nation, no longer are we to have ties with any pirate claiming to be patriotic. All pirates, whether privateer or not are to hunted down and hanged.”

“Your Royal Majesty,” respectfully replied Captain Stirvin. He stood at attention with his hat tucked under his arm, awaiting dismissal.

“You will not let me down,” commanded Queen Anne. ‘I trust you understand me. Mark my words, Captain, either he or you shall be hanging on the gibbet for all to see by month’s end!”

“Yes, My Queen,” Submitted Captain Stirvin. “Your word is my command.”

Collecting Don Reina, Captain Stirvin quickly escorted him to the Queen’s awaiting dispatch. Before the day was out, Don Reina was safely on his way to Spain with the contract of alliance.

 

The next night Kale, a bounty hunter who commanded a small group of eight mercenaries, arrived at Port of Errors. As they cautiously pulled along the eastern side of the island, their location was kept concealed by the thick of the trees, beaching their skiff about two miles from the edge of town.

Kale was there for one reason only, having spent the last several years in the orient learning skills that might better his way of life; he wanted to die wealthy and infamous.

Keeping only to the wooded areas, they scrambled through the thick brush, staying away from all roads and marked paths, wishing to keep their presence on the island unnoticed.

Arriving just within the borders of town, they were able to view a large portion of it. Kale noticed somebody walking alone and decided to follow at a safe distance. He then eyed two of his men, Damon and Hunter Jade, brothers by birth, gesturing toward the poor gent. Damon and Hunter ran a small length to the side of a wooden shed. The man turned, having heard a small scuffle nearby within the dark of the woods. Becoming paranoid, his pace increased to a slow jog. He could hear the sound of footsteps simultaneously echoing along with his own. The accompanying steps just behind him became louder as his jog accelerated into a run. Continually catching the sound of steps keeping in sync with his own, he stopped and turned. But there was no one within his range of view.

“Who’s there?” he muttered. “Who’s there, I say? Show yourself.”

Turning back toward the harbor, he felt a warm blow and snapping sound resonate within his head and everything suddenly went black.

Coming-to, this innocent victim found himself deep in the woods, surrounded by Kale and his men, each with a ready weapon in hand and burlap bags over their heads with cut-outs to see from. Kale was at the forefront and carried a large cutlass, and a long barrel musket slung over his shoulder.

“What is this?” questioned the old gent.
“When I ask, you answer!” demanded Kale. “Nothing else need be said. Now, what is your name?”
“Jon,” he sobbed with a fearful sniff. “Jon Laughlin!”
“I assume you live on the island, close by.
“Aye, have most me life, Sir.”
“Then I take it you know a woman, goes by the name of Isabel Shaw?”
Fearing for his life, he hesitantly replied, “Oh, please Sir, what do you mean to do?”

Kale smacked him across the cheek with the back of his closed fist. “Don’t forget old man, I ask and you answer! If you so much as think about givin’ a false answer, I’ll bleed you dead, Jon!”

Jon begged, “Please, don’t make me do this. I can’t be a part of such dealings.”
Kale struck him even harder. “I won’t be askin’ again, Jon!”
Damon leaned in close. “I’d listen to the man if I were you. This is not a game, Mate; and he doesn’t play kindly.”

A small drop of blood ran down the side of Jon’s cheek. “She…” he paused knowing that if Kale didn’t kill him, Black-Hearted most certainly would.

Kale slapped him again with an open hand. “She what, Jon? Tell me!”

With no way out, Jon finally gave in. “She lives about a mile to the north, she does, in a small cottage on the border of town at the woods edge. ‘Tis the only place with a red door.” Feeling completely defeated, Jon lowered his head and whispered in tears, “I’m as good as dead.”

“Right now, the only thing you need fear is me,” cautioned Kale, thinking Jon was afraid of Scurvy, knowing nothing about Black-Hearted’s relationship with Isabel. He continued, “There’ll be nothing left for Scurvy if you’re lying to me!” He smacked Jon once more in the same manner.

“It isn’t Scurvy I’m afraid of,” said Jon. “What do you mean to do with her?”

“That’s none of your business,” said Hunter as he pulled Jon to his feet and forced him to go with them.

The mercenaries approached Isabel’s home and walked up to her front door. They found it unlocked and quietly helped themselves in. The wooden planks creaked, as they set foot on the floor, but continued on without hesitation.

Isabel woke up to Kale standing directly above her. Before she could let out a scream, Damon covered her mouth. The others tied her up carried her out.

“I’m sorry Isabel, I’m so sorry!” confessed Jon, who lay prostrate on the ground, defeated and undone.

“Shut-up!” yelled Kale as he struck him across the mouth with his musket, knocking him to the floor in a slight daze. “Stand him up!” he ordered.

Damon took Jon by the arm. “Come on, get up you old fool!”

Suddenly and without warning, Kale thrust the point of his curved blade into Jon’s abdomen. Jon immediately fell to the floor.

As they fled Isabel’s home, Kale pulled a letter from his vest pocket and threw it onto Isabel’s bed, explaining the situation to Scurvy. There was no name attached the letter, only directions on negotiations for Isabel’s release. Payment in an unspecified amount for his assistance was to be rewarded if he complied.

 

The next day Black-Hearted arrived at Port of Errors followed by Roger’s Jolly, only to find the letter of abduction made out to Scurvy and signed by Captain Stirvin lying on Isabel’s bed. Black-Hearted had long known of Captain Daniel Stirvin and all his heroics, but had never met him face-to-face, or so he thought. In a violent rage, Black-Hearted ripped the letter in half and rushed to Mr. Darcy’s, where Scurvy and Captain Garrison were now conducting business, underhandedly as usual. Black-Hearted kicked the door open, cracking it at the hinge and busting in the frame.

“I’ll kill him Darcy!” exclaimed Black-Hearted. “Who took her? I’ll slaughter him slow and painful!”

In all the commotion, Mr. Darcy ran to the entry, where Black-Hearted stood. “You broke my door!” he cried. “Did you have to bust apart my new door?”

“Forget about that shoddy peace of dung!”
“It’s a nice respectable door,” said Mr. Darcy in a disappointed tone.
“I don’t care about your blasted door!” shouted Black-Hearted in return.

Scurvy and Captain Garrison also rushed over and noticed the door hanging on a single hinge. “What happened?” they questioned in unison.

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