02 Over The Seas

by Rick Dean - Dinosaur

Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Action/Adventure · #2360943

The Defiance sails the Caribbean on a quest for treasure

Over the Seas

The crescent moon sank low in the night sky by the time Captain Scarlett left Nancy’s Harbour Café. He and Josiah English, his quartermaster, had business on the beach. Guided by the remnant glows of various smoldering fires, they made their way along the high-tide line towards the jetty. As promised, they found a lean-to of yellowed sail-cloth strung between a pair of gumbo-limbo trees. Coals glowed red from a faded fire in front of the shelter, casting its interior in the shadow of night.

“Storm,” Scarlett announced in a half whisper.

“Alestorm,” a gravelly voice corrected as a silhouette emerged from inside the shelter. “I’m here,” he croaked.

“You had quite the career,” began the quartermaster.

“Thank ye. Those days are long over.”

“Not necessarily.”

“If only.” He nodded at the hook protruding from his sleeve. “This ended my days at sea. It messed up something in my head that you can’t see. I can think well enough, but I can no longer keep my balance well. Especially at sea. I stumble worse than a landlubber.”

“Then the whispers are true?”

“What might those whispers be?”

“Buried treasure.”

“Mr. English, a man o' yer experience should know better than to believe foolish stories of buried treasure. Since when has anyone sailed on the account an' then buried any silver anywhere other than the heaving bosom of a tavern wench?”

“Yet the rumors persist; and here you sit after a lifetimes work, living under a tarp on the beach. Not even a hut to your name.”

“Maybe I spent it all on fast ships an' faster women? Maybe I’m just like all the rest after all?”

“Then we’re wasting our time,” interrupted Captain Scarlett. “You didn’t invite us out here for conversation, mate. You invited us here to say things which wouldn’t be overheard in the tavern. Say what’s on yer mind.”

“You’re right, Captain. Both of you are right. I made my pile an' more – an' I kept it. Most of it, anyway. I had enough to buy all of Nassau twice over.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Ambush. I was quartermaster o' the Captain Morgan’s Revenge. Shoulda never sailed on a ship wit' a name like that. We cruised off the windward passage, not far from Tortuga, when we came across a sloop. Well, we moved in only to have her open a dozen gun ports. She loosed a broadside; at least twelve-pounders or I’m an ensigns bleedin' arse. How they even fit that many guns on a ship that size, I’ll never know. That broadside cost me my hand. Well, we wanted to get rich, not die trying, so we broke off the attack but the damage was done. We limped west, but we couldn’t break contact. This accursed little sloop wanted to send us to the briny deep. Finally, a storm caught us both an' that was the last we saw of the sloop. She may ha' sunk. I can’t say. As for us we foundered in the foul weather. Blew us almost to New Spain, it did. By then the ship needed serious repairs and could use a good careening as well. So we found a sheltered bay on an island off the coast and hid in there.”

“And the Spanish?” asked Josiah.

“Never saw 'em again. We must ha' lost 'em in the storm.”

“And what of this to us?” interrupted Scarlett

“My sea chest. It took two men to carry it by that point. When we offloaded everything and careened the ship, the crew noticed. I could sense the rumbling. Wounded man, heavy chest, I was ripe for picking. Late one night I had the two men haul it inland on skids made of palm trunks, away from the shore. I kept a fat purse on me, but that’s just a wee drop. The two men buried the chest.”

“You and I both know they’ve gone back and dug it up.”

“Impossible.”

“I know men. Your chest is long gone.”

“No. I said impossible because I killed them. God help me but the two lads never knew what hit them. Both of them, good lads and true, but not the sharpest blades. If they’d had halfwit brothers, the brothers would have been the brains in the family. I’ll burn in hell for what I did to them, but I had to do it. Crocs lived in the lagoon and I fed them well, God help me. The rest of the crew figured they’d run off. We searched the island of course, but never found them.”

“And we’re to find this treasure?” asked Captain Scarlett.

“Yes.”

“What’s to stop us from just keeping it?”

Alestorm laughed.

“Why Mister Scarlett, I expect you to keep it! I’m sellin' you a map of the island that shows where to find it. You give me a purse full of pieces o’ eight and I’ll give you the map. You’ll do the work, but you’ll get far more than the mere purse for your troubles. You’ll never need to sail again.”

“So why don’t you fetch it yourself. If it’s as vast as you say, it’s worth the risk.”

“I’ve no longer any need of it. I’d saved all that gold for a woman, but she's gone now."

"We all know a story like that."

"Hannah Codrington." Alestorm said with a faraway look. "A pearl, she was. Her father oversees one of the sugar mills in the Windward Islands. We were to be wed. Well, these damned islands had other ideas. I risked my life to make a fortune so her father would allow our marriage. When I returned, she lay cold underground. Fever got her, just like it got so many others.”

“I’m sorry,” Captain Scarlett answered. It sounded as if he meant it.

“I’m an old man and no longer seaworthy. A fraction of that gold will keep me drunk for my remaining days. I’ll not lie, I still dream of sailing off and claimin' it for myself, but when I wake up to reality, I know a ship’s no place for a man who can’t keep his balance. Besides, if I can’t load a cannon, climb the ratlines, or brandish a sword and pistol, there’s not much work left for me aboard. And treasure or nae, my life is hollow without Hannah. Best that I strike a deal.”

“And this island it’s on – it has a name?”

“You’ll get the name with the map.”

They haggled a while, then struck a deal. They shook left hands, and Captain English laid a purse down on the stump which Alestorm used for a table. He disappeared into the darkness and returned a few minutes later with a rolled parchment in his hand. The deal was done. The parchment and purse traded owners, and all three men smiled.

“The name of the island?”

“ Bermeja ▶︎ .”

“The lost isle?”

“It’s not lost. I’ve landed there myself.”

“You might as well have us sailing to the island of California.”

“It’s where I say. Just north of the Yucutan. Find Cozumel Island, sail north around the point, and you’ll find it. If you reach Merida, you went too far.”

“If she’s there, I’ll find it,” said Captain Scarlett, “but if she’s not, I’ll find you. There’s not a hurricane hole between here and the Spice Islands where you’ll find safety. Cross me and I will rip your bloody heart out. I’ll tie your bleeding arse to a beach-apple tree ▶︎ and laugh as you blister. You’ll wish you’d been keelhauled.”

Captain Scarlett glared at Storm with a force which made men step backwards. Storm returned his gaze, eye to eye, with equal intensity.

After several seconds, Scarlett snatched up the map and turned away.

“Come, Mr. English,” he snarled, “we’ve work to do.”

As they walked away Scarlett ordered, “find what crew you can and haul them out of the taverns. Don’t forget the new men. I hope you found good ones.”

“Aye captain. Scotsman, three of ‘em. Tough looking buggers. From Glasgow, I hear.”

“Good. Put ‘em to work in the morning. We’ll need a lot of provisions and time is scarce. You never know what lurked in the shadows listening to our conversation. Secrets don’t tend to stay secret, not when treasure’s involved.”

In the morning, the men grumbled. Many didn’t want to sail, as they hadn’t fully squandered the plunder from their last cruse. Yet the fear of missing out on even more plunder motivated them. They spent the day toiling in the blazing tropical sun. They’d learned the wondrous secrets of the aloe plant from the native Arawak, yet it only soothed the skin after a man had already burned. English supervised as the men hauled kegs of gunpowder and fresh shot into the ship’s magazine. Fresh sailcloth and timber for repairs needed manhandling off the beach, onto the ship’s boats, up onto the deck, and then into the hold. As the men dragged the supplies across the scorching sand, the island’s insects found time to attack. Where the mosquitoes didn’t bite them, the sand fleas did. A snakebite beached one man before they'd so much as finished loading the provisions.

One of the bilge pumps got destroyed in the last cruise so a team of four men dove on a shallow wreck, trying to pry, wrench, or otherwise wrest one of its pumps loose and haul it to the surface. They needed half the day to make the repair but felt grateful for the respite of working in the water. Had any sharks entered the bay, they would have sung a very different tune.

Other men loaded the ship. Various rundlets and kilderkins ▶︎ of ale, barrels of food, and all sorts of other provisions made their way into the hold. Then the crew swum the livestock out; chickens, pigs and a couple fat turkeys from Europe which had somehow survived. They tracked down ships cat, of course, and placed in the boat. Where there’s food, there’s rats, but the cat would keep the worst of them at bay. Next came puncheons ▶︎ of feed for the animals. Then, the men who had bothered to make shelters on the beach broke them down and the crew boarded. Finally, they raised anchor, unfurled the topsails, and the Defiance slipped out to sea.

Captain ordered the helmsman a few points north of west and the quest began. They would sail the waves, powered by the lust for gold in their hearts. Any who stood in their way would meet steel.

They weren’t far from port when the sun dipped below the horizon, so Captain Scarlett made the decision to sail through the night. Nor would he stop with the dawn of the sun. He still feared the possibility of another ship beating him to Bermeja.

The mere thought of The Lost Island made Scarlett shudder. Rumor had it that the island appeared at times, yet other times a ship only found empty seas. If Bermeja couldn’t be found, the captain thought, I'll rip the old drunkard’s heart out as promised, but I'll have to survive my own angry crew first.

A squall caught the Defiance near the Cayman Islands and blew her almost to Cuba. Still, she sailed on, ever westward. Somehow, fate smiled upon them. Despite the treacherous seas, they reached the lost isle with minimal difficulty. They found the lagoon on the southern shore as promised. A sharp-eyed topman could almost see the vague outline of mainland New Spain on the horizon. While the island wasn’t that large, the directions on the map proved confusing. The men searched many directions without success. Finally, a barrel-chested gunner named Red Kelly found two aged palm trunks that had been used as skids. With that as a clue they broke out the pick-axes and shovels. It took a few empty holes but soon a shovel struck with a thud against wood. They’d found the sea chest. The dead sailors must have been powerful strong, as where it took two men to bury it, it required the strength of four to heave the chest back out of the earth.

Scarlett’s heart pumped with dread and excitement. The moment of truth had arrived. Did the chest contain the treasure? If so, how much? Once the men received their share, how much would remain for him? He cracked the lid. Sure enough, gold coins and jewels gleamed inside. The men cheered and he sighed with relief.

Now, their quest done, they had but to sail back to St. Cruz. Or any other port for that matter. A simple trip over the seas and leisure awaits. Too easy, he thought. Life is never this easy.

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