Chapter 12

pirate hunter vs. pirate

Eric chose not to watch Charlotte’s reaction, as he sensed it would not be a kind one, so he turned around and encouraged the two men rowing the small boat. While digging his oar into the ocean, one of them piped up.

“I may be mista’en, but is yer honor lookin’ to hunt down Jedediah Willard hisself?”

Eric nodded, steering the boat for the very northern nook of the finger-like cove.

The other oarsman jumped in at this point. “We ain’t much a fight’rs, Cap’n Francis, sir. We’re more a jes yer common sailor type. But we’ve seen yer bravery, an’ we’re with ya to the end wid this one!”

Eric nodded once more. “Thank you for your support.”

Minutes later, the dinghy scraped onto the sandy shore. After the two sailors tugged the boat farther up the beach, the three did a weapons check. Unlike his first battle, Eric had the wherewithal to grab two pistols and a rapier sword while still on the Metanoia. The other men carried cutlasses and a pistol each. Eric had the sailors load their pistols while he surveyed the situation. Using the calculating mind that Eric could only explain as instinct, he figured that Jedediah separated himself from his crew as soon as the longboats approached his lame duck ship. Eric scanned the shoreline, seeing that the jungle broached it at all points except for a rocky ridge that dropped into the water and cut a swath in the greenery of the island. Eric knew that Jedediah would have stopped there to witness the explosion. Once the explosion had occurred, he would have moved on.

Eric checked the cove. But from his angle, the pirate would have been unable to see that Eric and the others had not fallen into the trap. He would have continued his retreat, but in a confident stride, quick but not panicked. He would likely stay among the tangled branches of the jungle, away from the beach, where it would be possible to be sighted by the ships that would finish off his crew. Eric’s eyes traveled along the jungle-edged cove, estimating the potential path and time frame, trying to account for the difficult path of the dense trees.

“Very well, sailors,” Eric finally spoke out. “Jedediah should be coming this way any minute now. Because there are a few paths he could take, we’ll need to spread out to find him. Once you sight the him, fire your pistol, and we’ll join you. Do not fight the pirate until the rest of us are there. Do you understand?”

The sailors nodded grimly. “Very good. I want one of you in charge of the beach area, and then the other within his sight at the edge of the forest. I will take the inside of the jungle area.”

Eric neglected to tell the men that neither of them would ever see the pirate, nor that he did not even expect them to participate in the struggle. Part of the reason he kept them from helping him take on Jedediah Willard came from being afraid that any unforeseen error on their part could tip off Jedediah to their presence or cause them to become collateral damage or a hostage. The other part that kept him from including them derived from something that Eric could not easily explain. He simply felt as if the meeting between himself and Jedediah should not be fettered by outside influences, but simply the two of them with their natural inhibitions and abilities.

Either way, Eric left the two sailors on the beach area and scrambled into the forest, past vines, palm plants, and fallen trunks. After a short walk, the ground sloped upward into the hills of the island. Eric knew that Jedediah would not head for the hills just yet. He would round the cove first before he attempted that. So Eric backtracked slowly until he found a faded animal trail in the spongy island ground. This is it, he thought. He discovered a clump of trees standing next to the trail and hid himself behind them.

As he stood there, he mentally calculated how much longer it would take for Jedediah to arrive. Less than a minute, he told himself. He checked his pistols and they were ready. He fingered his rapier. In his mind, he pictured Jedediah working his way through the jungle. He realized that the pirate would probably have his pistol out. The rogue may be a lot of things, Eric thought, but unprepared is not one of them.

Eric knew that the element of surprise would allow him to shoot before Jedediah could, but that might expose him to Jedediah’s return fire before going down. Eric decided that he had to disarm the man before he let any shot come, so he tucked one pistol in his belt, leaving one hand gripping the rapier and the other hand on his other pistol. Just as he made that determination, he heard the squelchy sound of approaching footsteps. Eric had no question as to whom they belonged.

The sound alone justified everything Eric already guessed. It was a confident, unsuspecting gait, moving briskly along the slight path, not making a lot of noise, but not being careful about the noise either. Eric gripped the rapier handle in his left hand, let go of everything else in his mind, listened to the impending footsteps, and in the right moment, he struck.

The rapier rang sharply against the metal barrel of a large pistol, and Jedediah Willard, in complete shock, dropped the weapon and sprang backward, tripping against a fallen tree branch. Eric snapped out of his hiding spot, his rapier trembling in exhilaration in his left hand and the pistol pointing deftly at the pirate on his right.

Neither spoke a word as they stared each other down. From all appearances, Jedediah Willard rushed through a wide range of emotions, starting at mild alarm and evolving to shock once he recognized his assailant. Eventually the cunning pirate settled with a disconcerting though slight smile before he spoke.

“Captain Francis, alive still. Either you weren’t smart enough to fall into my trap or you were too smart.” He eyed Eric and chuckled, though not as comfortably as he could have in a different situation. “Too smart, I guess. Always a game of chess with you.”

If Eric thought it prudent, he would have agreed with Jedediah. Even now he could tell how the man calculated his odds of survival and his next move. Eric knew the pirate, knew his actions, knew his motivations, knew it all too well to wonder what went on in that mind of his. Eric also maintained awareness of the absolutely despicable, detestable, murderous nature of the man. He had no doubt that the man, while contemplating his escape, also contemplated Eric’s painful demise.

Eric knew one more thing. He knew he could kill him in an instant. He did not need a moment of moral decision. His nature centered on hunting down a pirate, and the man before him was more pirate than any other person he would ever meet. He could kill him. The only thing Eric considered was how to best accomplish it.

“You must be pleased to see that I both killed my brother and blew up my ship in trying to catch you.”

Jedediah was stalling, trying to salvage enough time for some kind of opening for escape. While Eric recognized this, he also needed a moment to assess the situation. He could shoot Jedediah in the head and that would be the most detrimental, but he also remembered not to underestimate his opponent. The head can dodge much quicker than the rest of the body, and then it would simply be a guessing game as to which direction the head would dodge once Jedediah registered the falling of the flintlock hammer.

Eric decided that as long as he tried to figure out his own best move, he might as well play along with Jedediah in the stalling game. “What I’m pleased about is that your murdering days are over, whether it’s murdering your own family or other innocent people.”

Eric felt confident that he could shoot the pirate in the body, but disabling him instantaneously would not be guaranteed. With his other pistol loosely hanging in his belt, Eric assumed he could grab it before Jedediah could retaliate. If not, he could defend himself with his rapier well enough.

Jedediah must have sensed that Eric was wrapped up in his thoughts, because he forced a cautious smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. You could never shoot an unarmed man.”

Eric did not smile back. He responded in as serious a tone as he ever voiced. “Until your brain is no longer working, you are most definitely armed.” His finger started to squeeze the trigger, the barrel aiming straight for Jedediah’s heart.

“You’re left-handed,” Jedediah stated suddenly. The mere fact of the matter caused Eric to loosen his grip. He realized that Jedediah was thinking out loud, his mind racing up to the very last seconds of his life. “You knocked the pistol out of my hand with the sword in your best hand, your left. That means the pistol you are aiming at me right now is not in your best hand. Certainly you’ll be an excellent shot with both hands, but I have a slightly better chance with the pistol in the hand that it is in right now. You might consider switching hands, but that split second between hands will give me all the advantage I need.”

“Then again,” Eric said coolly. “I might be ambidextrous.”

Jedediah gave a reluctant nod. “You could maroon me on this island and set a patrol boat to ensure that I don’t try to escape. Marooning is a common and devastating punishment for a lot of known pirate offenders. Nothing worse than knowing that you’re going to starve to death or to be alone for the rest of your life thinking back on your crimes.”

Eric almost smiled. “Not that I don’t appreciate your creativity, but death by my pistol or marooning is all the same, except that one is more certain than the other. So I’m going for that.” With that, Eric squeezed the trigger and the pistol fired.

Eric could not be certain at what point Jedediah Willard planned on using the branch at his feet, but the fact that he started kicking it right as Eric finished his last statement meant that he had not reacted to the shot, but instead anticipated it. Even so, the kicking of the branch was a desperation move and they both knew it. The odds that it would harmlessly fly past Eric, ungrazed by ballshot, reached beyond reasonable calculation. Yet a miniscule chance remained of it disturbing things enough to save Jedediah’s life, and Jedediah’s impossible chance paid off.

Just as Eric fired, the branch soared in front of the barrel. The ball showed little mercy for the offending branch, repelling it back to where it came and scattering the broad end of it into pieces that dashed everywhere. Even still, the spherical piece of lead never found Jedediah’s flesh. And in the aftermath, through the slight haze of the powder shot, Eric saw the pirate scrambling to his feet and tearing through the path that he had previously been on, heading east.

Eric had limited time and target, with Jedediah now dodging between trees and plants, but as soon as the first pistol had misfired, his next one materialized. Even though he did not discharge it with his favored left hand, as Jedediah astutely noted, the shot successfully thudded into the only visible patch of Jedediah’s body, his right arm.

This shot only produced a grunt from the retreating pirate, doing nothing to slow him down. Regardless, as soon as Eric’s shot met its target, he jumped into the undergrowth and followed the crashing sounds of his quarry. The chase progressed painfully slow as the two scurried around, above, and underneath thick growths of plants, panting heavily, trying to make up distance on the few open spots in their paths.

Even though Jedediah, by nothing more than great fortune, had kept himself alive, his situation still left him in a grave state. In spite of this, the pirate’s retreat showed signs of being more deliberate than desperate as he moved in a measured but not panicky speed. Eric realized that this unseen force that made so him difficult to capture must have been an expectation of survival. Hoping to curb this motivating factor, Eric called out to him in the couple of spots where he could make out the pirate’s figure in the brush ahead, “There’s no place to go, Jedediah. We’re on an island. Sooner or later, you’ll have to turn around and face me!”

“I’ll face you when I’m good and ready,” a growling voice responded one of the times. “But first I’ll get off this island and come after you on my own terms.” His voice then darkened. “And then you will die.”

As Eric scraped past clinging leaves and branches, he perceived that Jedediah actually felt as if he might get off the island. The pace of his retreat did not reflect the random fleeing of a cornered man. His retreat had purpose. Eric watched Jedediah start to ascend the main hills of the Montes de Oca island, and the young pirate hunter smiled while wiping sweat off his brow. Now, he thought to himself, you’ll see how it feels to have your carefully thought out retreat sabotaged.

After fifteen minutes of a grueling uphill march, with the two still within shouting range of each other, Eric watched as Jedediah crested a saddle in the steep hills, giving him a view of the other side of the island. Eric stopped and observed. He saw the pirate, with his right arm slumping against his body, scanning the scene below. It took a split moment of realization before a crescendo rumble emanated from his throat, climaxing into a roar of rage. Jedediah swiveled around, blazing eyes searching for Eric, then he instinctively started to reach for his cutlass. But even by that movement he became frustrated, since his arm could not reach across his body due to the injury he had received. Eric had shot the pirate’s favored arm.

As soon as Jedediah grasped that each of his options was being exhausted, he desperately threw himself onto a small boulder and hurled it downwards. The boulder tumbled for a few rotations before tangling up in the undergrowth and jarring to a stop. Jedediah cast his eyes around, looking for more potential weapons. Seeing none, he scurried farther up the ridge. Eric reached the crest of the saddle in a short time, and the view only confirmed what he speculated.

Anchored on the windward side of the island sat the final pirate ship, the one that had fled north the day before. Surrounding it, clearly having subdued it, were the Constantine and the ever-familiar Rosemary. Jedediah’s frustration could be understandable. His carefully thought out trap, which required a heavy sacrifice of his flagship, had turned on him. And now his only venue for escape had been removed from under his feet. This left him cornered on an island, alone and forced to finally turn to—as he had always avoided before—the defensive.

Yet even a cornered prey could be dangerous, Eric knew. And Jedediah still might prove resourceful in his desperation. As a precaution, Eric reloaded his pistols and placed his rapier in its sheath, though he checked to make sure that it could easily be removed if the discharged pistols were not enough. Then he sucked in some air and sprinted up the ridge to finish the job.

He could not see Jedediah in front of him, but the boots scraping on the rocks and an occasional grunt told him that the pirate was close. Forward progress, for both of them, required burdensome labor. From the saddle, the ridge shot up into the air, vaulting out of the jungle into a razor-thin, rock-studded edge. While Eric started out on just his feet, the higher up he went, the more he relied on his pistol-laden hands to aid him in climbing. Still, he knew he was getting closer, and he knew that Jedediah had to be desperate. Finally, there would be an end, and Eric would see if he got to fulfill his natural-born destiny … or, he amended his thought, if it would defer to the pirate.

Then Eric heard the scraping above him stop.

Eric rounded a bend and saw that the ridge traced a line right past two mammoth towers of rock. Though easy enough to follow the path, Eric knew at once that it had now become an ambush point.

Knowing that fact was one thing, but doing something about it was not quite so simple. The monolith rocks did not provide any other access around them except through the path down the middle. This meant that all Jedediah had to do was hide behind one of the towers and wait for Eric to come, then stab at him from behind as he passed. Then again, if Eric could guess which rock the pirate stood behind, he could simply walk up that side of the rock and fire on the waiting enemy. If Eric guessed the wrong side, however, he would leave his back just as exposed than if he had no idea there was an ambush waiting for him at all. It would be just as fatal.

Eric tried to focus on the scene in front of him as if he were Jedediah. Which side would make the most sense? But the two towers of rock seemed nearly identical. Eric could not see an advantage to one side over the other. Then Eric’s mind really started to run. He knew that Jedediah’s arm, his right arm, was wounded. That would mean that he would be wielding his cutlass with his left hand. If he were hiding behind one of the towers, he would probably want to hide where he had more room for his left hand to maneuver, which would be the tower on the left. That made sense, but his previous encounters with the pirate made him hold his ground still. The times where Jedediah had bested Eric had been when he anticipated Eric’s strategy and then adjusted his own strategies to match. What if Jedediah anticipated that Eric would figure out which side would be easier for the uninjured left hand and so he then hid on the other side?

Eric squirmed a little bit at this uncomfortable thought. He reexamined the gap between the towers, wondering if he might be able to just take a peek at both sides. Even as he thought it, however, he realized that it could not work with that particular layout. That was simply a guaranteed way of getting stabbed. If he wanted any chance at completely disabling Jedediah, he needed to commit to one side or the other. Not committing would put him at just as great a risk, if not more. Eric ran the scenario through his mind again, then tried something.

“I know you’re waiting for me, Jedediah, just as your ship was waiting for you. Of course, that didn’t work out very well. Maybe you should just drop your cutlass and give in.”

Eric, of course, did not expect Jedediah to do any such thing. He did hope, however, that he could elicit some type of reaction from Jedediah. Anything. Even if he gave no verbal response, he might shuffle his feet, or maybe even sneeze, or, well, anything. Anything that would betray which side he had committed to. After a long pause, Eric heard nothing. He tried again.

“Once I realized that you were leading me into a trap in that cove, I wondered why you would blow up your own method of transportation just to kill me. That would mean even if you succeeded, you would have left yourself trapped on the island. Then it was obvious. Your ship that fled to the north yesterday, we had assumed that it was gone, but I realized today that of course you’d have had a rendezvous point in case of separation. Where else would you rendezvous but nearby, in the event of the need for a counterattack? So, even though you hadn’t had contact with the ship, due to the limited sailing abilities of your own boat, you could count on your last pirate ship to be waiting for you at the rendezvous point on the windward side of this island. Once I figured this out, it was a simple matter of sending a couple ships around the island to neutralize your last resort. So as you can see, I’ve defeated you at every turn. There’s no need to drag this out any longer. You might as well show yourself.”

Eric threw out this last piece of bait, where it hung in the tense air. He hoped to tap into the pirate’s emotions, get him angry enough to be pushed into a response. Obviously, Jedediah lost his cool on top of the saddle—his rash boulder shoving was a prime example. Yet Jedediah’s retreat up the ridge must have given him enough time to collect himself, because as long as Eric waited, he received nothing in return.

The air hung completely still, not even a breeze to push away Eric’s stale conversation. For a brief moment, Eric wondered if he guessed wrong and that Jedediah might be farther up the ridge. One look at the situation, however, removed any doubt. A desperate Jedediah would not pass up an opportunity like this. As the best option for survival, Eric felt assured that Jedediah took it. He simply had no way of knowing which side of it the pirate took.

Finally Eric realized that it would all come down to chance. Either side could have been chosen for any number of reasons. It would simply come down to when Jedediah stopped anticipating and actually made his decision.

Eric almost laughed at himself then. So it came down to this? A fifty-fifty chance?

At this point, however, Eric felt certain that he would never get a better chance at Jedediah. If he left to get help, Jedediah could retreat and hide for months on the island, figuring out a method for escape and revenge. If Eric waited until dark, his choice of using pistols would be at an even greater disadvantage. Eric needed to choose now and act now. He took one last moment of thought and then made his decision.

I will go for the right side, he told himself, rationalizing that Jedediah might have only had time to think of taking the preferred left side and then counter once with anticipating that Eric might guess that move. Even as he reasoned it, however, he recognized how flimsy any rationale seemed at this point. He simply walked into a fifty-fifty situation … but, he comforted himself, at least he did so knowingly. With that, he cocked his pistols and strode forward onto the tiny path leading between the sentinel rocks.

The sound of his steps betrayed his movement, but he knew that it would not matter. If right, he would have a clean shot at Jedediah. If wrong, he would be caught from behind. These things would happen whether or not Jedediah heard him coming, so he stepped forward with more vigor. Once he fell under the shadow of the gated rocks, he was tempted to pause and try to scope out both sides, but he sensed that vacillation would get him nowhere. He committed to the right side, trained each pistol in front of him, and placed pressure on the triggers. Then he stepped.

It only took one step for Eric to realize that he chose the wrong side.

The small alcove behind the rock lay empty, and not a second later a sharp point thrust itself in his back, tearing through his shirt and pushing the skin back until just before its breaking point. The discomfort was deliberate, but Eric could at least be relieved that the pirate had not taken advantage of the opportunity to sink the point all the way through his soft skin. Why, though, was not clear to Eric.

“Toss the pistols!” a vicious voice spat between clenched teeth. This was not the calculating Jedediah that Eric had seen at the exchange. This was not even the smiling Jedediah Eric had seen on his back in the jungle, only seconds away from being shot. This was an enraged Jedediah, and Eric sensed that he cared nothing for Eric’s life. In fact, he even cared nothing about gloating in his victory because Eric had taken any positive from behind the victory. So why Jedediah had taken a moment before plunging the cutlass into Eric’s back went beyond Eric’s understanding.

One thing Eric did know. Jedediah would not play any games, nor would he permit any perceived strategy on Eric’s part. Eric knew even the significance of wording. He did not tell Eric to drop the pistols. Dropping them would leave them too close to Eric for Jedediah’s comfort. So Eric preserved his life for at least a few moments longer by tossing the pistols into the alcove in front of him, where Jedediah should have been hiding. They clanked loudly on the stone floor, well out of Eric’s reach.

Eric could not tell for certain, but it felt as if the pressure against his back let up, if only in the slightest degree.

Jedediah spoke again, once more measuring his words carefully. “If I see that hand go anywhere near that sword of yours, then I won’t hesitate in chopping your body in half.”

Eric believed him—believed every last word. And he still wondered why the pirate had yet to kill him.

“Now, no games, no playing. Tell me who you are.” The intensity in Jedediah’s voice scared Eric even more than the situation he found himself in.

Confused, he muttered, “Eric Francis …”

The cutlass suddenly pierced his skin. Not a whole lot, but enough to start the flow of blood. Eric twitched but made no sudden movements. “You’re smarter than that. I don’t want your name. I want to know who you are!”

Eric began to catch on to what Jedediah asked. But he felt unsure of how to answer. “What does it matter?” he asked sincerely.

“Before you came, I had been unrivaled. Given the right amount of men, there were no limits to my abilities. But once you showed up, predictability was lost. I no longer know whether I have the advantage going into a situation. I can fix that by killing you here and now, but first I want to know who you are. Who are you, and should I expect to see more like you?”

Now it made sense. Jedediah Willard would kill him. But first he had to know if he could be safe or if he should be on guard for more enemies like Eric. The advantage to Eric here was minimal. Jedediah had no intention of keeping him alive, and if he tried to bargain for information, Eric sensed that Jedediah would stick true to his words: no playing, no games. The only advantage this gave Eric was time … and he would use it. He responded honestly because he felt that Jedediah would detect any deception. As he responded, he also thought through his situation with every angle left to him.

“Hunting pirates is what I was born to do, Jedediah. I’d never been in a ship, or even on the ocean more than a week ago, but that girl, Charlotte, she recognized my natural-born ability, and she brought me here so that I could test my abilities. I don’t know if there are more like me. I suppose if there were it’s possible that they would also come against you, though I really don’t know enough about it to say.”

The pressure of the cutlass loosened again, this time allowing for the trickle of blood to increase slightly, but Eric felt relief by the extension of life that it indicated.

“Now we’re getting somewhere, Captain Francis. Mark my words, if you keep talking openly like you just did, you just might spare your life a little bit longer. Now, will this girl Charlotte be able to tell me some of the information that you don’t know?”

A desperate thought popped into Eric’s head after Jedediah said, “Mark my words.” That phrase rang out as the truest thing about this whole conversation. Eric trusted—just as Jedediah expected him to trust—every word leaving Jedediah’s mouth. That brought him back to the second thing that Jedediah told him as soon as he placed the cutlass to Eric’s back.

“Charlotte knows a lot about people’s natural-born abilities, but she doesn’t know everything. She didn’t know what would happen when there were two people with such equal abilities coming up against each other. But certainly, she knows more than I do. I doubt that she has seen others with the same talents as me, though, or else she probably would’ve mentioned it.” The cutlass now only hovered above his back, not even touching it. Before Jedediah could give a follow-up question, Eric beat him to it.

“Now, what did you say would be the repercussion if I reached for my sword?”

Jedediah clearly did not expect this question. He immediately suspected Eric was up to something. “I said,” he said evenly and clearly, “that I would chop you in half.”

“That,” Eric said, still as motionless as a statue, “is what I hoped you said.”

The following actions happened within a split second after Eric’s statement, but with so much riding on their outcome, for the two opponents it took place in slow motion. Eric’s right hand immediately grabbed the handle of his rapier and thrust upwards. He did not dare reach for the rapier with his left hand because he knew that there would be no time for his hand to cross his body to his waist before Jedediah would notice the movement and strike. Instead, Jedediah saw Eric grab the rapier handle with his right hand, and the pirate drew back his sword in order to gather momentum for a blow that could potentially sear through most of Eric’s torso.

In this tenth of a second, Eric did not maintain his grip on the rapier handle. Instead, his body dropped to the ground while the rapier rocketed up, out of the sheath, and into the air. The result of this action allowed Jedediah’s cutlass swing to arc directly into the open space between Eric’s dropping body and the upwards-flying rapier, just missing the top of Eric’s head and managing to connect with the upward-flying tip of the rapier blade. Once the cutlass passed over his head, Eric sprang back up in the air and his left hand reached out and deftly grasped the rapier handle as it spun around from the blow it received from Jedediah’s swing. Then, in one motion, Eric brought the rapier screaming down. Before Jedediah could recover from his forceful miss, Eric’s rapier fell down on Jedediah’s last good hand, causing the cutlass to crash to the ground and Jedediah to jerk back his arm.

Jedediah’s body trembled as he nursed his hand in complete confusion and shock. It took both of them a moment to realize what happened, because only a split second before, Jedediah held complete command of the situation. Now the entire situation had been reversed.

Eric barely believed what had happened himself, but he stood resolutely with his rapier outstretched toward Jedediah’s chest. In that moment, Eric could have explained it to Jedediah. He could have explained that Jedediah had said that he was going to chop Eric in half. If the pirate had said that he would stab Eric, then Eric would not have had the time to make a move—one thrust would have ended it all. But Eric had to trust Jedediah’s words and that he would take his arm back to swing into a hard chopping motion. Then Eric also could have explained to Jedediah that the single distinction between stab and chop meant that Eric could control when Jedediah attacked, and it also meant that he knew how Jedediah would attack. And that distinction gave him just enough time to both duck and remove his rapier, leading to disarming the pirate once and for all.

These are all the things that Eric could have explained to Jedediah, but as the wily pirate cradled his bleeding hand, he must have thought back on the last thing that Eric said before the incident, and his cunning mind filled in the rest of the details. His look alone told Eric that he knew how he had been beaten.

Before either of them could plan out his next move, Eric saw the realization on Jedediah’s face that not only had he been beaten, but that he was about to be killed. The pirate was aware, ever since Eric shot at him down by the beach, that there would be no negotiating out of this one. Eric saw Jedediah take an unconscious step backward. Almost, Eric had pity for him. His slumped right arm, his bleeding left hand, the look of certain death, an end to his very life, bursting across his face. Eric almost had pity for him, but not quite. Eric felt as strongly as ever that what he said earlier resonated with truth: as long as Jedediah’s brain was working, he was armed and dangerous.

A new expression fell across Jedediah’s face after one more shuffle backward, and with ease, Eric voiced what he knew raced through Jedediah’s mind. “You know that I am about to pierce you in the heart. And you know that you are in no position to match me, especially without any weapons. So you know that you will die. And now the last thing that you’re thinking is that as long as you’re going to die, you’re going to try to take me with you. You’re going to charge me and try to deflect my blow as best you can. Even though you know that the wound I inflict on you will be fatal, no matter how much you can deflect it from a direct blow to your heart, you’re hoping to extend your life just enough so that you can barrel through me, land at the spot where I tossed my loaded pistols, and take two final shots at my head before death seizes your limbs and then your brain. And you are hoping that the last image in your soon-to-be-lifeless eyes will be me falling to the ground and joining you—your final consolation in a lifetime of evil.”

As Eric accurately delineated each of Jedediah’s desperate thoughts, Eric saw a semblance of awe overcome the man’s visage. By the time Eric wrapped up Jedediah’s final vision, the awe transformed into a smile. “Well then,” Jedediah grunted, “since we know each other so well, let’s stop thinking and start acting. Let’s see if your sword will stop me in my tracks or if I’ll be able to drag you into death with me. No more surprises.”

Eric had time for one last thought as Jedediah lunged toward him. He thought that it would be nearly impossible for him to stop Jedediah in his tracks. Fired with adrenaline, the man still maintained almost all of his physical ferocity in spite of damage to his two arms. Eric knew that trying to adjust his thrust to match Jedediah’s deflection and still pierce him in the heart would be nearly impossible to predict since it could come from any angle.

So, without any delusions, Eric simply hurdled his rapier forward with as much force as he could into the oncoming body of Jedediah Willard. The last thing that Eric saw before being enveloped by the large mass was his rapier bound tightly, up to its handle, in the chest of Jedediah—clearly a fatal blow. Yet as Eric crumbled beneath the large body, he knew that he just missed the heart, if only by inches, and that Jedediah might have a chance at a couple more seconds of life.

Jedediah rolled over Eric, leaving him with the breath knocked out of him. Facing away from where he tossed his pistols, Eric could not be sure whether Jedediah rolled close enough to grab them or if he even had enough strength left in his mortally wounded body to aim and shoot. Eric tried to muster the strength to move, to see if he could at least watch his own fate unfold, but before he could even budge, his body was shaken to the core by a pistol shot that cracked the air around him as if lightning had struck. It was closely echoed by another one.

In a surreal moment, Eric tried to determine whether he felt his skin being punctured at any point by the metal balls from his own pistols. He was unsure what being shot would feel like and at what point his body would realize where it had been hit, at what point death would overtake his body.

But Eric could not feel anything, though the sound of the shots, he knew, were as real as anything else he had heard in his life. Since his sense of touch failed him, he finally lifted his head up and depended on his sight. A quick scan down the length of his body showed nothing, and then his eyes drifted off of his body and down a short slope to see the body of Jedediah Willard, unnaturally contorted like a V from his waist, Eric’s rapier blade uncomfortably keeping him from resting his back on the ground.

It only took a short second, but the scene that his eyes swallowed told him several amazing things. The side of Jedediah’s head, above his ear, had a gruesome musket ball wound in it. Closer inspection showed yet another shot in the pirate’s chest, opposite of the rapier handle, a pool of seeping blood marking the devastated place.

That explained the end results of the shots. But what amazed Eric even more were the pistols bound tightly, in a literal death grip in Jedediah Willard’s hands. No smoke emitted from them, and, Eric noted in amazement, they were still cocked—just as he left them when he tossed them. That meant that Jedediah, though his fingers rested impatiently on the triggers, had not fired the shots at all.

Just as Eric realized this, he heard some shuffling behind him. The shuffling belonged to two sets of feet. One pair approached Eric and the other went toward Jedediah. Eric swiveled his head and looked, shocked, into the face of one of the sailors that went with him to the beach. The sailor’s look mirrored his own, still trying to take in the situation and breathing heavily.

Though he looked exhausted, the sailor still gathered enough air to exclaim, “Are ya alright Cap’n Francis, sir?”

Eric started to sit up, his body finally catching up to the speed of his mind. He glanced at the other man checking on Jedediah and saw that it was the second sailor from the beach. He did not say anything for a second before finally nodding slowly, then more vigorously. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He shook his head, then added, “Sailor, I don’t believe I ever caught you or your companion’s names.”

The sailor looked relieved that Eric could answer. “Nathan, sir. And that fellow there, he’s Paul.” After a pause, Eric’s bewildered look convinced the sailor to fill the missing details. “We was patrolling our spots on the beach, sir, and then we heard the shot and the rustlin’ through the woods, as t’were. Well, we knew yer orders were to wait fer a discharged pistol as the sign to join you, but you were already gone, sir. We assumed that you’d be chasin’ the pirate and we knew it were our duty to help you, so we chased after ya. Long and difficult chase too, I might add. Us sailors are in shape enough for climbin’ around on a ship, but a long distance run is sure to tire us quick enough. But we didn’t want to let you down, Cap’n Francis, so we kep diggin’ fer more after we had given all we got.” As if to emphasize this point, Nathan paused to gasp for some more oxygen before gulping and continuing, “Finally, we just made it up this ridge and to this gap in the rock in time to see that crazy Willard bloke divin’ at you, see you stick him right through with yer rapier, and see him roll across the ground an’ reach fer them pistols with the last bit o’ energy he had left. Well, we knew we didn’t have loaded pistols fer nothin’ and …”

Nathan did not need to finish. Eric slapped him on the side of his arm. “Well, Nathan and Paul, congratulations. You two just killed the biggest terror this Caribbean has ever seen.”

Paul squatted down next to the pirate’s body and, between heaving breaths, he spoke for the first time. “I’m thinking that yer sword did the killin’, sir. Our shots were just speedin’ things up a bit.”

Eric laughed, partially at Paul’s comment, but mainly at the situation. For all of the predicting and mind reading he and Jedediah had done, neither of them could have foreseen this result.

Paul seemed satisfied that the rogue was truly dead and stepped away, and Eric noticed one last thing that escaped his attention before. As a direct contradiction to Jedediah Willard’s final words, he saw the last look on the pirate’s face just before the musket ball to the head finished him off. Jedediah Willard held a look of surprise.