CAPTAIN SKULL

A Piratical, Romantic, Swashbuckling Adventure

by:

Ted Anthony Roberts

Being the Memoirs of

~ Sir Charles of Riley ~

Written in the year of our Lord’s Grace A.D. 1722

And Covering Specifically Some Events

Which Occurred Just Before

The Sinking of Port Royal, Jamaica

By Means of an Earthquake, into the Sea

On June 7, 1692

The Swashbuckling Press

2

The Swashbuckling Press

Houston, TX

www.swashbucklingpress.webs.com

This book is a work of fiction. If there are similarities of any

fictional personages portrayed in this story to anyone who is living

today or in the past, then it is of complete coincidence.

CAPTAIN SKULL: From the Memoirs of Sir Charles of Riley

©copyright 2012 by Ted Anthony Roberts

www.tedanthonyroberts.webs.com

Sir Charles of Riley cover model: Brennen Bustamento

Cover Photo ©copyright 2012 by Studio 3B

Cover Design by Ted Anthony Roberts

A Swashbuckling Press Book

Houston, TX

3

CAPTAIN SKULL

From the Memoirs of Sir Charles of Riley

A Piratical, Romantic, Swashbuckling Adventure

by: Ted Anthony Roberts

Author of:

The Adventures of

Monsieur de La Donaree

the Musketeer

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

BOOK I: To A Tropical Paradise . . . 7

Chapter 1: Meet Captain Skull . . . 8

Chapter 2: My Personal Adventure,

And How I got my Start . . . 14

Chapter 3: I Approach the Buffoon,

But Then Something Happens! . . 22

Chapter 4: A Favor for a Favor . . . 30

Chapter 5: Upon Reaching the Colony Town of Riley 41

Chapter 6: Servant at the Grey Goose Inn . . 53

Chapter 7: The Dark Bandit . . . . 60

Chapter 8: An Evening at Sir Guy’s Home . . 67

Chapter 9: Dark Bandit Hunting! . . . 78

Chapter 10: A Bitter Conclusion to an Already Sad Affair 90

BOOK II: To the Open Sea . . . . 104

Chapter 11: Contemplation . . . . 105

Chapter 12: Monsieur Pierre’s Love Life . . 116

Chapter 13: Tommie Blue . . . . 129

Chapter 14: Mademoiselle Marie . . . 137

Chapter 15: The Battle at Maracaibo . . . 152

Chapter 16: A Meeting Between Two New Friends,

And A Look Into the Mysterious Skull . 164

Chapter 17: A Surprise Visit . . . . 172

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BOOK III: To A New Life . . . . 179

Chapter 18: The State of Affairs at Jamaica

After My Departure . . . . 180

Chapter 19: To England . . . . 186

Chapter 20: A Barbaric Event that Decides the Fate

of Gentlemen . . . . 196

Chapter 21: A Nervous Conversation

With An Unexpected Person . . . 201

Chapter 22: Two Aristocratic Ladies,

and Their Conversation . . . 208

Chapter 23: On Toward France . . . 218

Chapter 24: Life Carries On . . . 223

Chapter 25: Lady Susanne . . . 229

Chapter 26: On To Supper . . . 242

Chapter 27: A Strange Confrontation . . 251

Chapter 28: An Intense Conversation . . 259

Chapter 29: A New Opportunity . . . 274

Chapter 30: Life Can be Wonderful . . 287

An Introduction to:

The Adventures of Monsieur de La

Donaree the Musketeer . . . 290

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The Memoirs of

~ Sir Charles of Riley ~

An account of His Piratical Adventures,

Along with those of his Superior

The Notorious Nobleman Pirate, Captain Skull.

And of their Daring Exploits

Upon our Mysterious Waters and Lands

In and Around the Caribbean,

And along the Gold Coasts of the Spanish Main.

A Publication of

The “Porkman’s Vessel”

Yardarm street, London, England

In the year of our Lord’s Grace A.D. 1722

And Now Set Forth,

With Modern Spellings and Phrases,

By Swashbuckling Author

~ Ted Anthony Roberts ~

A.D. 2012

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BOOK I:

To A Tropical Paradise

8

Chapter 1

Meet Captain Skull

My name is Sir Charles of Riley, and I was a lad of only

seven and a half years when I first remember hearing the infamous

name of Captain Skull. "He is nothing more than a tyrant!" I had

heard. "An eight foot tall tyrant." This is all I remember hearing

about the captain from my youth – a tyrant! But later I was to

realize that none of the exaggerated statements about the captain

were even true. He was certainly no tyrant; and as far as his great

height was concerned, he only reached that of six feet. And how

should I know this, one may curiously ask? I happen to have been

in the great captain's service for nearly ten years, and I lack only a

few inches of reaching his presumed un-reachable height. I am

proud to recall, as I am reminiscing of those former glorious days,

that I was not too far from the captain in rank. I would say first

mate, but that would be an awkward statement, seeing as there was

another who stood with the captain and me upon the main deck of

our ship.

This other man, my near ranking officer friend, who was by

birth (and noticeably by his dignified mannerism) a full-blooded

Frenchman, had a head full of blonde hair – of which he kept

excellent care of. He elegantly wore a light blonde moustache –

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that he carefully trimmed every morning. He had a slim figure – of

which he continually kept in shape by constant fencing exercises.

And he had a set of mysteriously deep blue eyes – that could hold

the darkest of secrets without fear of being revealed even to the

keenest of observers. And yet this latter stated description (that is,

the mentioning of his eyes), were a complete opposite of mine, of

which are only a dark brown, and that could not hold a secret to

save my life.

Not only are my eyes dark brown, but so also is my short

hair, which I have always taken special care of – for I wore no

periwig, as many of the noble lords of that day were doing. At the

present time of this writing I am clean-shaven (as are my fellow-

Englishmen), but of the time of which I am writing about, I did

display a very, very small goatee and light moustache – as much as

my youth would allow me to grow! And lastly, concerning my

physique, it is slightly more muscular, I do dare say, than that of

my fine French friend.

But, alas, even though these before mentioned qualities,

which I took special care to hold back some extreme details of,

belonged to the proud natures that I and my French ship mate

shared, they were not even comparable to those exceptional

qualities of Captain Skull – of whom I carefully make mention of

in this telling. For though he was a man full of mysteries, his

outward appearance told many things, without he having to even

open his mouth. His eyes, as if he were the Frenchman’s brother,

were as blue crystals – which occasionally and brilliantly caught

10

the glimmer of the sun, and were always sparkling, as if the seven

oceans were enclosed within. Their color could almost pass for

aqua, though an occasional dullness would shoot through them

(revealing a darker blue) whenever he had became angered: which,

in all honesty, did not occur often enough to even be mentioned,

for his was a nature that was the most patient and mild-mannered

that ever I’d seen the likes of! These deep blue eyes, as I have just

described, could have him pass for a fine Frenchman, though his

looks revealed an Irish or Scottish origin. However, his hair (being

very long, straight and black), could have him either being a Latin

born nobleman, an American native, or a Spaniard fresh from the

New World. A much asked question amongst the crew was always

where he had come from. But if there were any persons living

during that time that had knowledge of his origins, they were silent

to approach with a satisfactory answer. I myself, and on several

occasions, had heard him speak French, Spanish, English (for, of

course, English is my language – the only one I could speak, and

still the only one I completely know), and even once did I hear him

speak German. So, in other words, he could have sprang from

anywhere in the known world!

The captain always wore black, from his head to his foot,

and an occasional white or silver, placed here and about, to add

interest to his elaborate costumes – full of lace and plumes they

were! He was a mighty man of valor, indeed, who never spoke

much, and never even opened his lips unless a situation

commanded him to. Sometimes I would see days go by that he

11

would not utter a word; then, on other occasions, he would speak

nearly all afternoon. But when his lips were not in motion

(delivering, as if it were, words of gold), he would be in deep

thought, and readily giving himself, what I considered, thorough

sound advice. These silent days did not mean that he was locked

up tight in his cabin; but to the contrary, he stood with us quite a

bit upon the decks of our ship, while shaking or nodding his head

‘yes’ or ‘no’ to answer small questions. However, when he did

speak, it was only about important matters, having no nonsense or

jesting within the speech; which was very much unlike me, and

especially my dandy French friend, who had always a ready, witty

and sometimes comical saying for any occasion that demanded a

light response.

The captain’s presence secured intelligence, braveness,

shrewdness, and outright strength. He was the greatest – I do here

proclaim – the greatest of all Pirates! For this was our profession;

and such a one that deserved honest respect . . . . Honest respect?

Piracy? Can that really be so? Verily, for half the crew, as

incredible as it may seem, were noblemen. Aye – noblemen, who

were banished from nearly every country in Europe. This, what I

am saying, is no jest; and it had constituted from the strangest of

events, for these exiled lords and nobles (I know not for what

crimes – for it was something that was not asked, neither was it

told), made our Spanish Galleon seem, as if it were, the grandest of

any royal court, to which nobles paid homage only to themselves.

Quite unique, no doubt, but unbelievably true. Captain Skull had

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made for himself a small, should I say – underground – reputation

for being a gentleman tyrant. Always when he boarded a ship, he

killed only those whom he had a necessity to kill, and spared those

who had pleaded for their life; others (if they were of a robust

nature), were even allowed to join his crew. Indeed, he needed

man-power to run his ship. Could it truly be imagined that these

noblemen were acting as mere sailors? That would have been a

thought unworthy to even be mentioned onboard. Therefore, to this

result, seeing as Captain Skull was a somewhat respected

practicing Pirate, and because noblemen and courtly lords who had

no other means of accumulating tons of gold unto their persons,

they readily grasped the idea of Piracy, and had joined Captain

Skull on his quest for . . . for what? . . . for what would almost

seem to be revenge. But the reason for this revenge, if such were

even the case, was another one of those questions that remained

unanswered. But my thoughts on the subject was that he himself

was a banished noble or lord who had taken on Piracy for revenge

on the corrupted and pampered nations that did not treat their

nobles nor their citizenry appropriately. Perhaps the greatest reason

for this adopted occupation of his (which had hit my mind) could

have very well laid in the fact that he desired the acquiring of

much wealth. Verily, and admittedly, he had a love for treasure!

Though many people’s thoughts were very sketchy on this

man’s life during his notorious career, and even though I (as was

just mentioned) had tried desperately to guess at his true nature,

and of his mysterious background, it certainly doesn’t mean that I

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never received the answers to his origins . . . for, indeed, I had. But

I will ease them into my story as I plod along with not only my

first meeting with him and his crew, but also along with my own

adventures with them all.

Piracy is an easy profession, and it can make one rich

almost overnight. So, therefore, in response to all these

happenings, half the crew were sailors, who kept the ship assail,

and the other half were of high bred birth, whose work only came

when duty called for the use of their swords and military skills;

which, I will admit, was a grand display in fencing, fighting,

cannonading, and, as funny as it is to hear – robbery!

14

Chapter 2

My Personal Adventure, And How I got my Start

I can remember vividly those days when I first met the

captain, back when I was yet a young lad, and was hastily looking

forward to starting a life, and to begin an adventure! Back in

England, however, that adventure was a far cry away, for I was

working odd-jobs here and about, sometimes living on the streets,

being orphaned from birth, and I found it difficult to even keep up

with ‘normal’ life – whatever that had meant! Dreaming of nothing

more than a grand life in some tropical locale, I did somehow, in

all that busy ruckus, manage to pull enough coin together for a sea

voyage to the New World, called the Americas! What an exciting

day that was; and I had my mind all made up, for I was going there

never to return to England again. I was finished with the rough life

on the English streets, and I wanted to get involved in the sugar

cane industry in the West Indies – that new Garden of Eden!

I had thought that if I could only become an apprentice to

some rich man there, who could teach me all the tricks of the trade,

then I could build up enough money to start my own plantation

some day. Oh, how many times I had heard the middle class

discuss these ideas in the English Taverns, where I would

purposefully sit outside the windows just to overhear their own

15

plans, which would in turn give me my own dreams of such a life!

The exact location of the landing of my ship was to be at

the colony town of Riley – an extremely small place on Jamaica,

not too far from Port Royal, its capital. I honestly can’t remember

the exact year of this voyage, for I was not keeping a log at the

time, as I was later to do not too long afterward, but it was some

years (sometime perhaps in the 1670’s) before that terrible

earthquake had hit Port Royal, sinking it into the sea, and causing

the capital of Jamaica to immediately be moved to the town of

Kingston.

Looking back to those glorious days of my voyage, to the

time of exciting youth, and filled with many hopes and dreams, I

can remember distinctively the events of my first days out to sea as

if it were but yesterday. Before this, I had never been upon the

ocean before, and I was very surprised that I did not become ill at

all on that entire journey from which would have been caused by

sea-sickness. Again, I say the voyage was so exciting, so

mysterious, and much fun as well – but my greatest memory of

that voyage came at one certain late afternoon, when the sun could

be seen largely from afar, getting ready to dip itself into the ocean

within a few hours (as it began to soften itself somewhat for the

evening that was to come), causing the beauty of that entire

painting before me to be extremely breath-taking . . . yet, despite it

all, it compared but little to the beauty that stood only a few feet

away, who was also admiring the softening sun as much as I.

From the corner of my eye (for I had certainly began to

16

take in small glances of her as well), I could see that the young

lady had brown flowing, straight beautiful hair, which had

delicately lain upon her shoulders, as it draped lightly upon the

lace of her collar. The occasional hard-hitting sea wind would flip

it back away from her face every so often, revealing a lightly

tanned, smooth face that it had at times softly caressed. Beginning

to get a bit braver in my new investigation, whilst glancing more

often into her direction, I also noticed that her lips were red and

full; of which (combined together with the other details) could

certainly tell any man that a rare flower was in their presence! Of

course, I have no need to mention that her body was as delicate as

her facial features – but they were! And, alas, I noticed that too.

I would find myself, as I now muse to say, slowly edging

my way toward her. As young and clueless as I was at that time in

my life, which was when I was around eighteen years of age, I

imagined that the young lady did not even notice my advancements

toward her. That is, until I heard some laughter coming from her

direction. At first, I refused to accept that she was laughing at me!

"If you edge your way any nearer," she finally ventured to

say to me, but still looking out toward the sun, "then I would have

to make you sit upon my lap, for you are in danger of coming that

close!" Upon that last sentence, she finally turned toward me, and I

could see how stunning she was in that afternoon light! More

beautiful full faced than what I had realized at first. And her brown

eyes, as I could now plainly see, were very soft ovals of loveliness.

"Excuse me?" I stupidly replied, embarrassed, and having a

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most woeful expression upon my face – for she had caught me off-

guard.

Her only response was more laughter. At this, I had caught

on that her musing was indeed directed toward me, and so I gladly

yielded in!

"And if I did come to sit upon your lap," I dared to suggest,

with a gleeful smile upon my lips, "would that be a bad thing?"

As she was about to reply, some man had suddenly and

unexpectedly approached.

"My dear," he said to the girl, acting as if I were not even

there, "the dancing is almost over, and I’ve yet to have a dance

with the prettiest girl."

She looked at him with a smile, looked back at me with that

same smile, then proceeded to walk away into the direction from

which the man came. He started to follow her, so I sorrowfully

returned to my view over the sea, being extremely disappointed.

To my surprise, however, the man came back out, and walked right

up to me. When he had stopped directly behind, I turned to face

him.

"And as for you, sir," he said, in a most threatening and

dignified tone, while his eyes darted with anger, "you will never

speak to her again. Or I will be forced," he continued, while

grabbing the pommel of his sword, "to run you through. Do you

understand?"

I said nothing – merely stared.

Upon my hesitation, I figured that he took it that I did

18

understand, for he added: "Very good." And then he walked back

into where the dancing was being held.

I cannot even begin to explain how I felt at that very

moment. Usually, when I had been insulted, I would immediately

throw my fist into the offender's face! But this was a different

matter entirely, for I was not in a dirty London alley, nor at a

quarrel with a common street lad: this man was a gentleman, and

obviously a swordsman as well. Being from the streets as I was, I

naturally knew nothing about fencing, except for the two or three

times I had seen a demonstration in my neighborhood by local

nobleman's children, who were musing themselves for the benefit

of the other children. Therefore, I could not challenge the wretch,

or else he would, as he had said, run me through! So, what was I to

do? Perhaps forget the whole matter like a wise man would do?

Sure, that would have been easy, if I weren’t Charles! But since I

am Charles, I know assuredly that I am not a wise man. So, again,

what was I to do? . . . . My solution? Yes, it was a crazy one!

Walking up slowly toward the captain of the vessel, I

casually struck up a conversation with him. An Irishman of some

years, I could see that the man was very sea-worthy, as an old

favorite vessel might be; that is, very tried at the challenges of the

ocean. A captain's hat, a patch over the left eye, and a pipe

completed a costume that already very much screamed of the sea.

In my conversation with him, having had other intentions, I

made it seem that I wished to have just a friendly chat with the

man, so I threw a few questions to him concerning his ship, of how

19

long he had been at sea, his age, about his family – you know,

everything that I really did not wish to know! So, after having him

become very friendly toward me, considering that I was having

him talk to me about his favorite subject – that is, himself! – I was

finally coming to my point:

"Tell me, captain," I began, "are there wild natives on

Jamaica?"

"Wild natives?" he repeated, while he knitted his brows

into a frown, being a little surprised at the question. "I do not think

so, my lad. They are, I believe, on the other islands."

"I see," was my seemingly sincere comment, whilst I

knitted my brows also to imitate the old seaman. "But, what I

mean, are there things at our destination that one would have to

defend themselves from?"

"Well, of course, lad," he said, placing his hands behind his

back, as he held his head slightly in the air, and looking straight at

me, "that is the way of life." Then added, as he raised his

eyebrows: "You have to be able to defend yourself anywhere ye be

in this world."

"True," I admitted. "But when I lived on the streets of

London, all I had to know was how to make a good fist!" And I

demonstrated by shaking my fisted right hand in the air.

"Yes, you have a point, my boy," he said, laughing a little

at my flying arm.

"But where we are going," I continued, coming closer to

my point, and having already put my hand down, "that skill may be

20

useless, do you not think, captain?"

"You perhaps may be right."

"I'd wager," I said, trying not to miss a single expression on

his face, "that you are an excellent swordsman yourself."

"Oh, I wouldn't say excellent," he said, continuing to smile

at me, "but I do have a fair hand at it."

"Oh, that's great!" I exclaimed. "Could you show me some

basic moves on the blade?" I added, of a sudden. "I mean, just a

few quick ones, where I can defend myself from any harm at

Jamaica?"

At this, the captain was speechless – he didn't even see it

coming! His brows knitted more than they had done before; and all

the poor man could do was to stammer out a few words: "Well . . .

I, ugh . . . I don't know . . . I, ugh . . . ."

"Oh, I'm sure that it wouldn't take long – just a few basic

moves."

"Well," he said, smiling once again, "what would be the

harm?"

I really have no need to say that my intentions were less

than honest, for I merely wanted to learn fencing so that I could

kill that buffoon for his insolent remarks.

"Mark!" the old sea captain called out, motioning for his

first mate to come near him. Upon this, a young seaman, who had

only been a short distance away, came forward.

"Sir?" asked the man, whom I could see was a true man of

the sea, who was wearing a red sash about his waist, and had a red

21

bandana around his head.

"Loan the lad yer sword," said the old man, while pointing

me out. "He wishes for me to teach him a few moves on the blade."

At this, the first mate seemed to be a little taken aback,

while glancing at me a little nervously. But then his nervous

expression took on a more cheerful smile while observing me.

"Why, sure," he quickly said, while unsheathing his sword.

He then placed the blade within my hands.

As that wondrous sword was being handed over to me, a

surge of unexplainable joy went all through my body! What a

feeling that blade produced, and somehow I knew that the sword

would play a unique role in my life.

22

Chapter 3

I Approach the Buffoon, But Then Something Happens!

After about an hour of extreme basic lessons from the worn

out sea captain, I felt assured of my new found talent. Yes, talent,

as it would be assumed by the over-zealous thinking of youth!

Even though the captain did tell me to immediately find his first

mate (who had went about his business elsewhere on the ship) to

return the sword to him, I did intentionally keep it a little longer,

hoping to settle my differences with that lace-filled buffoon before

doing so. Upon this idea, of which I whole-heartedly entertained

myself with – imagining with my every step toward him that I was

running the insolent fellow through with the first mate’s sword – I

did quicken my pace in this much needed search. Tucking the

sword into my belt, so as to appear non-threatening to the other

passengers, I then proceeded into the dining hall of the ship (the

last place I had seen him enter), hoping that he would still be there.

Upon my entrance into this extremely small recreational

area for the passengers, the first sight that I observed was a smoky,

dimly lit room, with a few tables scattered about. At first, my scan

of the room was fixed upon the few couples who were dancing to

the two or three instruments which were humming out a tune that

all the courtiers were familiar with in London. But my man was

23

not there; so my attention quickly moved to the tables. My

observance here caught several cavaliers who were chomping on

their pipes, and drinking their coffee, whilst they wooed their

ladies who were sitting and chatting happily with them. Amongst

these table occupants, I was very glad to see my targeted man – of

whom I saw was still wearing that same insolent smile he had

displayed for me earlier, as it seemed to be permanently embedded

upon his ugly face! Oh, how I wanted to remove that sarcastic-

looking grimace with my . . . I mean, with the first mate’s sword!

I took a step into the room, where I found myself making a

quick stop! I did not notice that sitting across from him at the table

was that beautiful young lady, of whom I had but briefly met a

little over an hour before, and who had been gazing at the ocean

just as I. Ah, what a rare gem she was! But why was she sitting at

table with that insolent man? Honestly, why would she even want

to associate with him at all? Seeing as he was probably her brother,

I might be able to see, out of family necessity, of course, that she

would sit with him. If he were my brother, however, I don’t know

if I could stomach the man’s presence, even if the saying is true

that blood’s thicker than water. And if the worst case scenario

could even be possible that he might be courting her (perish the

thought!), then certainly her brains had departed her senses just as

far as north is from south!

However, I mustn’t keep thinking of her beauty at a time

like this, when my honor was at stake! For there was always a

possibility that this lady, by that time, might have bethought me a

24

coward; that is, of course, if that rotten gentleman had told her

anything of what had transpired between he and I – and that would

just never do! So, at this conclusion, I continued my advancement

toward my determined destination, gripping tightly the pommel of

the first mate’s sword. Surely, the buffoon would regret the day

that he ever spoke to me in such a manner as he did – should that

not be so?

As I approached their table, I stood directly beside the two

of them, having one hand upon the grip of the sword, and my other

fisted hand was resting upon my right side. I opened my mouth,

and I quickly prepared a fitting speech, ready to address it toward

this loathsome sight, when suddenly a passenger came running into

the dining hall, screaming at the top of his lungs: “A ship has been

spotted off the starboard bow! This could mean trouble.”

At this, everyone in the entire dining hall rushed out,

heading toward the starboard bow, hoping to catch a glimpse of the

sighted ship. Yes, everyone left out, except me – I, who was still

standing in that same ridiculous position that I had been standing

for the past five seconds: which was, with one fisted-hand still

upon my hip, one hand still on the pommel of the sword, and with

my mouth still wide open, ready to speak to that rotten gentleman

who was no longer there. And not only him, but neither the

beautiful girl, nor any of the other passengers who had been sitting

or dancing in the room . . . in fact, it was so dead quiet in there,

that even the creaking of the ship’s boards could have been

considered loud at that time! Neither of the two of them ever saw

25

that I was there.

So, I took my ridiculous-looking self slowly out of the

dining hall to join the others at the starboard bow, who were all

anxiously gazing at the other ship with gripping anticipation of

what she could be. Of course, I was so upset that I could have

cared less what was going on with that other ship.

As I nonchalantly leaned upon the handrail, and after I

squeezed through the thick crowd to get there, I began to look at

nothing in particular – not even at the other ship. I was letting my

gaze float from passenger to passenger, while I was set in deep

thought about the events that had just passed for the last hour. But

suddenly I saw, staring directly at me, that beautiful girl, who had

a delightful smile beaming from her face. I was so taken aback by

that sweet gesture that I froze, not knowing how to respond. I was,

however (with a bit of difficulty), able to break free from my spell,

so I started to return her smile with one of my own. But just as

quickly, though, as my frown turned upside down into that

sparkling grin, it had returned to its frowning state once more, for

my view of that beautiful girl had just been obscured suddenly

from sight by the leaning forward form of her buffoon friend –

who purposefully came in-between our gaze. And then all I could

see, instead of a sweet good natured countenance, was a strong and

hateful grimace, which was directed right at me from my most

hated adversary!

But before anything else could happen, I received a tap

upon my shoulder. Jumping slightly, for the tap had given me a

26

start, I quickly spun around to face a smiling first mate, who was

laughing slightly because of my startled reaction.

“I need my sword back, please,” said he to me.

“Oh, sure,” I replied, as I quickly handed it back to him. It

was very obvious that I wasn’t going to need it at that time anyway

to settle my fury with that terrible man.

It was nearing six or seven o'clock in the evening, and it

was approaching dusk upon the ocean; only the form of the other

ship could be seen in the far distance, being encircled by the

setting sun. These things I finally began to observe, deciding to go

ahead and avert my attention to the newest happenings – seeing as

I could do nothing about the other. The events about the other ship

approaching actually lasted the rest of the night, and on through to

the early morning hours. Surely, she must be rather large, like a

Galleon, for it seemed to approach us with a very slow speed. Or,

rather, she did not want to alarm us by coming in too fast; for,

indeed, the ship was heading into our very direction.

As it neared about three in the morning, the watchman up

in the crow’s nest, which was nestled just above two massive

sheets of canvas (a part of our sails), kept hollering that the other

ship’s flag still could not be seen in the darkness through his

looking-glass telescope, as it got closer to our vessel by each

approaching wave. Fortunately for the mate above, the moon was

rather generous that night, for it was very large in the night sky,

and did blanket both ships with incredible visibility. Throughout

these slow hours I could hear a few passengers crying, saying that

27

they were going to be killed by Pirates, whilst others were busy in

their duties of comforting, assuring them that such would not be

the case. Now, as I've said, this whole scene continued through the

entire morning hours, as more passengers awoke, joining the late-

nighters upon the main deck, and who all hovered near the edge,

trying their best to make out the ever approaching vessel – for it,

indeed, was coming closer and closer by every hour. As all that

was going on, while trying to work through the ruckus that all this

was causing onboard, the old sea captain was trying his best to

give orders to his crewmen, just in case of an emergency.

As six in the morning had approached, the nightly darkness

was beginning to fade, and the sun was starting to make his

appearance on the opposite side of the ocean. Leaning forward

even more, the crewman up in the crow’s nest began to shout,

heartedly: “She’s waving an English flag!”

At this announcement, all onboard shouted a cry of relief; a

cry which, no doubt, could have been heard by the occupants of the

approaching ship. However, I was not in voice with the others; not

because I was still mad, mind you – no! – for that had all but

ceased within me by that time, but it was instead upon a suspicion,

for I had wondered if it may have been a trick from the other ship,

as Pirates were sometimes noted to do: that is, to hide their true

colors until there could be no escape for any victims that they may

run upon. But I believe that the only other person onboard who

slightly shared my feelings concerning this matter was the old sea

captain, whom I could hear in the distance saying things to his

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crewmen, like: “It doesn’t matter, you stay your post!” and, “Tend

your duty, you are a member of this crew, so stay your ground!”

As the other ship came within cannon range, most of our

crew were thinking that the Englishmen on the mysterious ship

wanted to board us for some political reason, but some of our

passengers noted that they merely wanted to greet us, which I

thought would be a rather silly reason. My thoughts were quite the

contrary to these, hearing of all types of sea battles in the past, I

still felt that there may be something wrong here.

The mood on our ship had drastically changed since the

other ship was first sighted the night before. No longer were some

of our passengers crying, and neither were there gloomy looks

upon a lot of their faces. Instead, people were actually laughing,

and having conversations concerning the English persons of the

other ship, if they may actually know some of them. I myself kept

looking up at the crewman perched up high in the crow’s nest, for

his gaze seemed unmovable since he first spotted the Galleon

earlier. I figured that by this time, since we came into cannon

range, he would be describing the activity that was happening

onboard the mysterious vessel. After all, there was enough light by

then for him to be able to see something going on there. But nay a

word was being said by him, and the looking glass seemed to be

permanently stuck to his left eye. Surely, something was really

wrong, for he should have spoken of something by that time.

“Ho!” he finally yelled. “I am beginning to see some

activity onboard the other ship.”

29

At his words, all on our ship had stopped their talking and

walking about to hear the latest news. Even the old sea captain

stopped his activities with the crew to listen in.

“What’s this I see?” he continued, high above, and in a

slightly agitated voice. All of us strained our ears to hear.

Quickly pulling the glass away from his eye, his gaze then

turned to find the captain below. “They are taking down their

flag!” he yelled to him.

All onboard, including myself, ran back to the edge of our

ship to have a look. Sure enough, the glorious English colors were

being quickly taken down, as could be seen in the not too far off

distance, and we all held our breath!

Suddenly, there arose cries and shrieks from our ship, as

the unmistakable image of the black flag of skull and cross-bones

defiantly replaced the more gentle sight of a much friendlier flag.

And as an almost eerie mechanical response to our cries and

wailings that had filled the morning air around us, a war-like roar

rose from the other ship, as the crewmen of the Pirate vessel were

now visible, and were raising their weapons up, so that we could

see them, and fear!

30

Chapter 4

A Favor for a Favor

Just as soon as the harsh yells from the other ship had

ceased, a loud explosion was then heard, for the Pirates had just

fired a cannon in our direction. No person on our ship moved a

single muscle; neither did a single sound escape our lips, for the

explosion of the cannon did seem to freeze everyone onboard. And

just after the blast of the gun had sounded, a loud hissing was then

heard, as the free-flying cannonball approached our helpless

vessel. Nearer and nearer it came, until it finally arrived, smashing

through a vulnerable part of our ship.

Again, a blood-curdling cry from the Pirate vessel vibrated

in the air.

This time, the realization of what was happening had

finally hit home! Scrambling and screaming, the entire population

of our ship suddenly seemed to be in utter chaos!

More cannonballs then came flying in from their ship, as

the bandits approached us, nearer and nearer.

“Fire!” our captain yelled. Three cannon shots were then

heard from below – three of the six cannons that our ship had. And

as if our crewmen were mere amateurs, all three balls missed the

Pirate vessel entirely! The Pirates seemed to enjoyed that, for

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much laughter was heard coming from their direction.

Through the madness I could see the captain handing out

sabers to all able-bodied passengers who would help, and I wasted

no time at all in running over to him.

“Let me have a blade, captain,” I said, wide-eyed. “I want

to help defend!”

A beam of joy shot through his face. He knew I could do no

good, but at least my heart was in the right place.

“Protect me ship, laddie!” he said to me, winking, and

squeezing my cheek with his fingers. After this, a saber was

quickly handed to me, and I immediately ran to the edge once

again, ready for action.

It took only ten minutes more for the Pirate ship to come

into boarding range. And, sure enough, grapple hooks were being

tossed over to us, gripping our ship; and the Pirates pulled hard

upon the ropes, until our ships met, completely side by side to each

other. There was too much shock on our end to even think of

cutting the ropes; and though our captain had made mention of it to

some of the crew, they remained frozen in their places, not able to

move! Planks were then thrown down between the two ships for

boarding purposes; and just as soon as they were thrown, Pirates

came running over by the droves! Not only were they running

across the planks, but some were even swinging over on ropes that

were rigged to their masts. And as the bandits were sword-fighting

our people, most of our passengers were either running around the

ship trying in desperation to find an escape (even though there was

32

none), or they were desperately trying to hide behind barrels, or

huddling up in corners, tear stricken! In other words, our ship was

in extreme turmoil.

For a moment, I just stood my ground, eyeing carefully the

battlefield, seeing where I should direct my steps, and where I may

be most useful for our ship. But to my utter surprise, the battle had

suddenly ceased, after only several minutes of fighting, for the

crowd who were on our side of the fight had of a sudden, and as if

they had planned it, just stopped fighting all together, and

completely surrendered to the Pirates, pleading for their lives.

Honestly, our crewmen and passengers hardly even tried to do

anything at all! And at seeing them do this, our captain, totally

disgusted, decided to stop fighting also, seeing as he was the only

one left to defend the ship. Stepping back majestically from his

opponent, our captain then broke his sword over his knee, to keep

from having to surrender it to the Pirates.

At this gesture, the Pirates started laughing. That is, all

except for the man of whom he had been fencing; and whom,

taking our captain seriously, had saluted him with his sword,

having had a look of respect in his eyes toward the old man as

well.

“Good show, sir,” the swordsman said to our captain. “I

perceive from your actions that you are this vessel’s leader; seeing

as the rest of your crew has no backbone.”

“Captain Jack O’Donaughe,” said the old man, “at your

service. And I can perceive,” added the captain, “by your

33

mannerism, that you are the leader of this rabble. Captain Skull, if

I guess correctly.”

“You are very observant, dear sir,” said Captain Skull,

smiling, while sheathing his sword, “and how did you guess?”

“You are obviously a gentleman; the death toll is nil; and

none of the women are treated in an ill respected manner.” Then

our captain added, with an uneasy tone in his voice, and yet with a

bit of sarcasm: “Not yet, no-how.”

More laughter came from the Pirate’s crewmen at this

statement, who, having already collected the defendant’s swords,

were now nonchalantly listening in to the two captain’s

conversation.

“Have no fear, dear sir,” inserted Captain Skull, “your

women will be safe enough; and as you have stated yourself, we

have spared your men’s lives.”

“And I do thank you for that, sir,” added the old man, half

enthusiastically.

Captain Skull then smiles even larger, while he said:

“However, we will be glad to relieve you of your gold!”

Again, the Pirates laughed heartedly.

“Of course, you would,” said the old man, gravely, while

he nodded his head knowingly, and as his facial features turned

into an agitated grimace.

“Now,” Captain Skull began, a bit loudly, while looking at

all the passengers, and with a quick glance around our ship, “if you

will all be so kind as to hand over your valuables, we will quickly

34

be on our way.”

I had heard just about enough of this humiliation, and I was

aggravated at our captain’s easiness over the matter – me not

having even considered that he really had no choice. Stepping out

of an unobserved corner, of which I had been standing the while, I

had suddenly, and to everyone’s utter surprise – especially to my

own surprise – began shouting loudly at the top of my lungs: “No!”

And I then, stupidly, ran straight toward Captain Skull himself,

sword in hand, while still yelling as I ran: “You will not steal our

goods!”

Right up next to him I came, and stopped only a few feet

away, pointing the tip of my sword directly toward him! However,

he stood his ground, not even moving a single muscle; but he did

have a most dumbfounded look upon his face – for just who was

this young idiot that had challenged him so?

At seeing my actions, of running up to their captain as I had

done, the entire crew of Pirates were stirred, and a good amount of

them even ran up to me, swords in hand, ready to slash me into

ribbons! Yet, nay a sword had touched me, as I now happily

reminisce. But all did have their swords out, I say, save for Captain

Skull, who still not only had his sword sheathed (despite my crazy

actions toward him), but was, indeed, too busy looking extremely

stupefied to have done anything further! A good many of those

Pirate blades, of his crew, were directed right at me, and were

ready to go to work upon my poor skin at even the slightest

movement.

35

Now, this entire scene did last for a good couple of

moments, as I was still standing in an attacking position, keeping

my sword pointed right at the Pirate leader, while most of his men

remained standing on all sides, with their threatening swords

extended steadily out toward me. But, during these most unusual

moments of silence, I happened to see, while still facing the Pirate

Captain, a glimpse of that pretty girl, of whom I had fancied was

actually looking right at me. I don’t know who I thought I was

kidding (myself, perhaps), because the entire occupants of the ship

were really staring hard at me, for I had completely gained the

attention of everyone onboard! After I had at first seen her through

the corner of my eye, I caught myself looking over into her

direction . . . . Oh, how youth can be so easily distracted away

from the matters at hand!

Sure enough, that girl was there, staring hard at me, just as

I had thought. She was on her knees, and cuddling – to my extreme

amazement – that rotten gentleman (my sworn enemy!), who was

rolled into a frightened ball upon the ship’s deck! The fears of

these Piratical events were just too much for him to bear.

Of course, Captain Skull had followed my gaze into their

direction also; for, as I now understand, he was a very observant

man. And directly after he followed my look into that area, he

immediately turned back to me, with a new smile upon his face.

“Would you like to impress that girl?” he asked me, in an

undertone, that only a few of his own surrounding men could hear.

“What?” I asked, surprised at his question, and slightly

36

moving my eyes back and forth from him to her.

“You know,” he continued, still in a hushed whisper, “I

could actually make you look good while we fence. So much so,

that girl will be extremely impressed with you.”

“Excuse me?” is all I could say, in disbelief at what I was

hearing from this man.

“But for me doing this favor for you,” he added, without

bothering to answer my babbling questions, “I would also ask a

favor in return.”

Still not knowing what all this meant, I hesitated for only a

slight second more, as I took all this in, and before I whispered

back, with extreme curiosity: “And what favor is that?”

“I want you to join my crew,” was his surprising response.

Up until that time in my life, I don’t think that I could have

been more shocked by any other statement than that. I was actually

at a loss for words! And seeing that I was at this loss, he continued,

thus: “I like your spirit, young sir; and I believe that you will be an

asset to my crew. What say you to that?”

“Well, I . . . I don’t know,” I stammered back.

“Excuse me, captain,” said a voice coming from our left.

Both I and Captain Skull turned into that direction.

The man who was addressing the captain was that dandy

Frenchman, of whom I had made careful mention of at the

beginning of my story. Monsieur Pierre de Beret, a name I was

later to learn (a pseudo name, to hide the noble origin of his birth),

had obviously guessed at what our whispered conversation was

37

about, and the grimace on his face proved that he was actually

annoyed at it.

“Would you like for me to quickly dispose of this rouge for

you?” he asked, his brows frowning heavily from agitation.

Captain Skull turned to face me once again, as I did to him

likewise, and I noticed that he had an even larger smile than what

he just had, while he answered: “No, Monsieur Pierre. This

gentleman has challenged me, and I intend to honor that.”

I remained silent during this dialogue.

“Suit yourself, captain,” Pierre de Beret added, in his thick

French accent, while turning his steps away from us, shrugging his

shoulders in an obvious manner.

“Well?” the captain asked me. “What is your decision?”

Now, this was one of those choices that would change the

entire direction of one’s life. Not that I had ever considered Piracy

as a career, mind you!, but a life of adventure, on any scale, is

enough to entice any young person – especially if the call of the

sea had already pulled them in. Indeed, this was a decision that

could take a good long while to think over; carefully considering

every possible angle, and every consequence it would produce . . . .

“Yes!” I anxiously answered, without even a second’s

hesitation.

At this, a satisfied look came over the captain’s face, while

he unsheathed his sword. “Very good,” he said. “This will be a

pleasure, young sir . . . . Gentlemen,” he added, as he addressed the

men who were still surrounding, and who were still aiming their

38

swords at me, “please give us some room.”

Of which they quickly complied.

Immediately, our swords crossed, ready for action. And

after only a split second of waiting, the captain said: “Begin!”

Our swords were unleashed, in a very mechanical manner.

I, with my basic self, was trying to keep up with the captain’s

skillful blade. He was so talented at the sport, that he could make

anyone look good of whom he fenced. The Pirates were clapping

their hands and laughing with great anticipation, for the show was

being enjoyed by every one of them. All, that is, except for dear

Monsieur Pierre de Beret, who was watching in a slightly

disgusted manner. As I was later to find out, Captain Skull

recruited many of his men in this same way: he would look for

spirited men, and would teach them the arts of war – his style!

Pierre, as I now know, preferred warriors who were already

skilled, figuring that training men was a complete waste of time.

Judging by my fencing style – which I had none! – the

Pirates were able to see what the captain was up to, and that was

the main reason they were enjoying their morning entertainment so

much. Seeing as they were mostly courtly lords, as I’ve already

mentioned, and who were all very skillful behind the blade in their

own rights, it did not take them long at all to figure out this little

trick of the Skull’s upon the crew who were bound to the Colony

town of Riley.

After only about five minutes of this fake fencing bout, the

captain stepped back away from me, holding his hand up high in

39

the air, while he yelled, loud enough for everyone onboard to hear:

“Enough, young sir! It’s easy to see that we are the same at

fencing. We could carry on all day like this, and our skills would

remain equal! Robbing an entire vessel is not worth crossing

blades with such a fine swordsman as yourself – and I admire the

noble touch behind your saber; and you, sir, are clearly one of the

finest swordsmen that I have ever seen. Therefore, I and my men

will spare this vessel from being plundered, for you have saved this

ship!”

At this announcement, which in my opinion was a bit over-

done (perhaps I thought so because I was really being embarrassed

by it all!), the occupants of our vessel suddenly became overjoyed

at this news, for it seemed that they had bought the whole act; and

they started clapping and shouting hoorays in honor of me.

I guess that made me their hero.

Pierre de Beret was really disgusted at having to miss all

our loot, but remained silent, nevertheless – but his facial

expressions told all.

“Where are you headed?” asked Captain Skull of me, in yet

another undertone.

“Jamaica,” I answered, whispering as well. “The colony

town of Riley.”

“Riley?” he asked, a little confused. “Is there such a place

at Jamaica?”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s only a quarter of a mile north of Port

Royal.”

40

“Very good,” he concluded. “I will find it, nonetheless.

Finish your business there, and I will come to get you in three

months, and have you officially join my crew at that time.”

“Very good,” I said, nodding in consent, my heart pounding

a bit fast.

The Pirates then took their leave of us, unhooking their

grappling hooks, and pushing out to sea.

Everyone on our ship took a breath of relief.

41