Second on the Right (36 page)

"Jas!" he called out. James turned, trying
not to fidget, but not doing a great job. "Take a moment," he
nodded down towards his quarters.

James rushed to Benedict’s quarters. As soon
as he closed the door, he ripped his shirt from over his head,
unbuckled the harness, and pulled both it and the hook off. Rubbing
at the end of his right arm, he gave a loud sigh of relief.
Typically, he was able to handle the feel of the harness and the
hook, but for some reason that night it was bothering him more than
usual.

He stood by the glass panes. His eye caught
his reflection in the glass. Never had he been in as good a shape
as he was at that moment.
If only Eileen could see me now,
he thought. His smile quickly faded as his eyes fell on his right
arm. James frowned, feeling his self-worth temporarily leave him.
With all of the confidence he exuded, James wondered how Benedict
would handle the loss of a limb.

Darkness fell over the ocean. The crew had
maintained a watchful eye on the
Jolly Roger
's position.
Benedict stopped at his quarters, interrupting James as he just
finished pulling a shirt over his head. James winced, taking care
to avoid rubbing the areas of chafing from the harness.

"Jas, it's time." He stepped up to the helm.
"Shorten sail!" Benedict ordered the sails partially pulled up. The
Mistral Thief
slowed, creeping towards the
Jolly
Roger
. Hidden by the cover of darkness, the
Mistral
Thief
was nearly invisible on the ocean.

Nodding to the bo'sun, a group of crewmen
slipped into the small boats and rowed silently towards the
Jolly Roger
. Using grappling hooks and ropes, the pirates
quietly boarded the vessel. The crew of the
Jolly Roger
was
too preoccupied with drink and entertainment to notice.

As the pirates advanced, two reached the
helm. While one attacked the helmsman, the other focused on
disabling the rudder to prevent any means of escape. There was a
brief struggle, but the others on board heard nothing. The
remaining group of pirates circled around the singing crew,
attacking in one swift move. With rope from the
Mistral
Thief
, they managed to tie up the crew, securing the ship.

"Ahoy! All clear!" the bo'sun shouted over to
Benedict on the
Mistral Thief
.

Benedict grinned and looked at James, who had
joined him on deck. "Well now. Shall we take a gander at yer ship
and crew?"

James shook his head in disbelief. It was
amazing to him, the ease with which Benedict handled some
situations. The two climbed into a skiff and headed over to the
Jolly Roger
. On board, James saw a large group of men tied
up in the center of the deck.

He looked over at Benedict. "Uh, what’ll we
do with them?" he whispered.

Benedict flashed a grin and addressed the
tied-up crew. "Gents, ye have an opportunity before ye." He paced
around the immobilized crew of the
Jolly Roger
. "We be
needin' a new crew aboard the
Jolly Roger
."

James stood back, away from the group. Most
did not take notice of him, concentrating solely on Benedict.

"Ye can join or be marooned on that not too
distant island out yonder."

Benedict stopped in front of one man.
Squatting down, he asked, "Would ye be joinin' tha crew? Or would
ye prefer ta be marooned on said island.” He pointed off into the
darkness.

The crewman, in fear, nodded his head and
answered, "Aye, ta join tha crew."

The captain of the
Jolly Roger
had
been hiding below deck. While Benedict was distracted with the main
body of the crew, the captain took action. Running to the upper
deck, he had hopes of jumping ship.

"Jas," Benedict waved a hand indicating James
should take care of the man.

James ran across the deck. Unsheathing his
sword with his left hand, he pointed it at the deserter. The
captain of the
Jolly Roger
froze; hands in the air, his eyes
grew wide

What now? Am I to run him through? Throw him
overboard? Look menacingly at him?

Moments passed by, the man still frozen,
James still holding his sword. He glanced over at Benedict, who was
giving a less than satisfactory look. Benedict mouthed something,
but James had difficulty reading his lips.

Benedict rolled his eyes and walked over to
James. With his back to the rest, he whispered, "Show yer power,
boy." James looked bewildered. With another eye roll, Benedict
leaned in and whispered, "Run him through, Jas."

James hesitated. The man was frightened. Was
death truly appropriate, or should he spare the man's life? He
glanced at Benedict who was giving him a stern look.

"If ye wish ta be captain, ye need ta follow
tha code," Benedict whispered. "The penalty for desertion:
death."

He gave a nod of encouragement and waited.
James took a deep breath. He opened his mouth to address the man he
was about to kill, but saw Benedict shake his head. Seeing James
hesitate, Benedict growled low in his ear, pushing the tip of a
dagger sharply into his back, "Do it now!"

Startled, James jerked and ended up running
his sword through the man's chest. With surprise, he watched the
man crumble to the ground. There were gasps of fear all around the
ship. Benedict slapped him on the back, a sparkle in his eye.

"Now what? Neverland?" James asked.

"Nay. Ye be needin’ more crew. Back ta El
Tiburón.” Benedict instructed his bo'sun to turn the
Mistral
Thief
around.

Within the town of El Tiburón was a local
tavern where pirates gathered, gambled, and enjoyed musical or
other entertainment. A sign hung outside the bar, showing a picture
of a smiling elf-like man, face made of leaves, tufts of hair
jutting out as if they were antlers. Called the Green Man, the bar
was built from the timbers of wrecked boats and smelled of tar,
salt, seaweed, and fish. The roof was so weak that during rainfall,
drips were inevitable.

Once inside, Benedict spoke with the
bartender. While they were in hushed exchange, James took the
opportunity to look around the room at the patrons. He’d never seen
a more villainous lot. The bar was filled with raucous pirates,
scantily clad wenches, down-on-their-luck sailors, and intoxicated
ex-Naval officers. He frowned at the sight. These were his
potential crewmen.

Perhaps I'm being too hasty
, he
thought, glancing at Benedict.
After all, I never would’ve
thought he was worth anything as a pirate or otherwise. Best not to
judge a book.

When Benedict finished, the bartender left to
give instructions to his staff. James followed Benedict to a
private room. They waited there while Smythe brought in potential
crewmen. James paced about nervously. Though he had been pirating
for months, each new task from Benedict still made his stomach
turn. Would he ever grow used to being a pirate? In the small room
within the bar, he felt as if he were conducting job interviews.
Perhaps he could treat it the same way he did when he was a
CEO.

“S-sir,” a mouse-like voice called from the
door. Both James and Benedict looked up. It was Steede, a crewman
from the
Mistral Thief.

“What’s this?” Benedict’s eyebrow rose.

“Sorry sir but it being Miss Davis’ husband,
I thought best to protect him….for her,” he answered timidly, while
limping into the room.

“And how be it ye plannin’ on tha’?” Benedict
asked, his attention on Steede’s limp.

“Me leg? Honest, I can still work, I can,” he
defended.

“I accept all willing to serve,” James said
with haughtiness.

Benedict shrugged, waving Steede off. “It be
yer ship, Jas. Steede, off with ye now. Tha
Jolly Roger
be
yer home.”

“Thank ye, sirs!” he said to both. He
stumbled a bit, then limped as quickly as possible out of the
room.

Hours had passed. Most of the crew had signed
contracts— Cecco who was covered in tattoos; Starkey a somewhat
rakish and very thin pirate; Forester the carpenter and ship’s
surgeon— all were sent to the docks to be acclimated to the
Jolly Roger
. James sunk low in his chair, his head buried in
his arms. Benedict kicked his boots up on the table and took a long
draw from his mug.

"Ahh!" he exclaimed, grateful for the break
and the ale. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see James.
Is he asleep?
He took one boot and kicked James in the
thigh.

James turned his head towards Benedict, but
didn’t raise it. "Yes?" he sighed wearily.

"Ye got yerself a fine crew, enough ta serve
ye well in findin' and killin' the whelp," he said, grinning. He
chuckled, as if hearing an unspoken joke.

Another sigh came from James. "Those
scurvy
dogs as it were?" he groaned. "I'm doomed. Utterly
doomed. Doomed and alone," he continued dramatically.

Benedict rolled his eyes. "Oy! Wench!" he
shouted.

Within moments, a buxom woman bounded into
the room, with teeth clenched in a forced smile. "Aye?" she
addressed Benedict haughtily, though her attention was on James.
She appeared to be attracted to him.

Benedict took a long look at the woman,
obviously doing his best to picture what was underneath the dress.
When she turned back to see what he had called her for, her lips
frowned in disgust. She cleared her throat, causing his eyes to
meet hers.

He grinned, opening his arms in surrender,
"Come dearie, what say ye show me yer larboard side, eh?"

She snatched the mug from his hand and turned
to leave the room, but not before Benedict gave her a good firm
groping. She screamed in surprise; he burst out in riotous
laughter.

James peeked over his arm at the woman
running out of the room. He rolled his eyes. A shuffling at the
door announced the quick return of the bar maiden. She placed a
full mug on the table, widely avoiding Benedict's reach. After she
left, James commented, "You're never going to find a woman with
that act."

Benedict scoffed, grabbing the mug and
staring at the liquid. A look of pain crossed his face though James
couldn’t understand why. "I be needin' a woman save only for three
things: cookin', cleanin' an—"

"Captain!" James interrupted.

"What?" he replied innocently. "Was gonna say
talkin' is all." Benedict chuckled, burying his mouth in his
drink.

Just then, a genial man timidly entered the
room. Raising a hand in a wave, he caught the attention of both
captains, "I be 'ere for work aboard the
Jolly Roge
r."

He spoke softly with a light Irish accent.
The man, shorter than James, was pale skinned with reddish hair and
wore a pair of small wire spectacles. He nervously took them off to
clean them, then placed them back on his nose.

James looked at the man, his head tilted to
one side. He didn’t seem the pirate type. Benedict choked on his
ale. Both men sat up.

"Name?" Benedict asked, doing his best to
take the man seriously.

"I, uh…well, uh…" the man stuttered
nervously.

"Name!" Benedict barked, causing even James
to jump.

"Egans!" the man said. "Leslie Egans."

"Leslie? What kind o' name is that?" Benedict
laughed, looking at the man through half closed lids. He had had
too much to drink, which was not surprising considering how long
they had been interviewing potential crew.

“I'll take this one," James said.

Benedict nodded, waving and bowing
magnanimously. He took to drinking again.

James waved for the man to come in. "Leslie,
very well. What skills do you possess?"

"Well sir, I'm a subject matter expert," he
replied with a pleasant smile.

“An S.M.E.?” James asked incredulously. Then
more to himself, “They had S.M.E.s even as sailors?”