Chapter Seventeen

~

It was after midnight when the men assembled down at the marina.

Upon arriving, many of these usually gruff men greeted each other with a curious, almost dainty bow. Begun as something of a joke, it had since taken on an almost ritual quality, a silent signal that they were all in this together. This evening, short of being told what boat they should get on, the men needed no further instruction. Before setting sail, each man donned his bandana and hat and other clothing to hide their features and identities.

Some men were single, but curious landladies and nosy mothers were no longer a problem. They had gotten used to their sons or tenants keeping odd hours. And whatever they were doing, it seemed somehow to make them more responsible, so they weren’t about to ask. Other men were married, but aside from one or two, they no longer lied to their wives about the reasons for their odd hours. Though to a man, they had remained circumspect about what they were doing, their wives had come to appreciate them bringing home a decent paycheck. And though all had kept the solemn vow they had made with one hand on a Bible, some of them shared with their wives it was far more than a decent paycheck. Far more indeed.

Each was assigned to one of a dozen or so small or medium sized boats. There was no need for larger vessels for this haul. One by one, motors started and the boats began pulling away from the dock. On most every boat, a no longer so strangely dressed man stood and took a deep breath, leaning forward to let the wind roll against their face. Each of them smiled, for they knew they would soon be at sea again.

The happiest of these men stood erect at the bow of Len Doyle’s skiff. He had long ago traded in his trademark green hat for a plush and fashionable tricorn. The hat was in his hand now, to let the wind whip back his shoulder-length hair, but mostly, so he wouldn’t lose it. Behind him, Len Doyle sat at the wheel of his skiff, maneuvering across the narrow channel toward their destination.

“Yer a foin skipper, Mister Doyle,” Hornblossom shouted above the wind. “A foin skipper indeed.”

Len smiled but kept his eye on the water ahead.

Still shouting, Hornblossom went on. “If’n ye don’t mind me askin, I fear the name has slipped me mind. What be the name of our destination this evenin’? Cos-Mar? Cos-Fort?”

Len kept his eyes on the water when he answered.

“Costco,” he shouted. “Superstore. They got everything there.”

~

Late Friday night, Sarah stopped by the inn. After a smiling Chris greeted her at the door, they stepped onto the porch. In one hand, he carried a picnic basket his mother had made for them, in his other was a blanket. The two stepped out beneath the starlit sky and walked down to the beach.

As he’d done for so many evenings since it first made its appearance in early August, Chris glanced toward the horizon and marveled at the wonder that was the Reisenhower Comet. He’d hardly been born when the last comet was truly visible in the sky. And though this one supposedly paled to that, there was no doubt this thing was a comet. The massively bright snowball in front was as big as ten stars. Its rocky tail came to an obvious cone at the end.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sarah asked. Chris smiled and nodded.

Chris found a spot on the all but empty beach to lay their blanket and the two lay down atop it. After fishing the wooden tray from the basket, he laid out some cheese and crackers then cracked open a grape juice for them both. After a while, the two lay back to take in the glory of the universe and the wonder of the comet.

Glancing at the moon, Chris saw it was barely a crescent now, but knew within forty-eight hours, like it did every month, the moon would make itself new again. Through the darkness, Sarah found Chris’s hand, and it was good. He figured now was as good a time as any.

“The pirates are leaving Sunday night,” he said.

She stayed quiet a while before saying, “I know.”

In the starlit darkness, Chris smiled.

“I don’t think you do,” he said.

She squeezed his hand tighter than was necessary.

“I’m not stupid, you know. Anyway, I figured it out a while ago.”

Chris was surprised, but only for a moment. She certainly wasn’t stupid. “I’m gonna miss them when they’re gone,” he confessed. She squeezed his hand and let his words speak for themselves. He appreciated that.

“Anyway,” he went on. “They’re taking the ship for a trial run on Sunday and invited me along. I wouldn’t dream of going without you.”

She let that hang in the air longer than necessary before saying, “I wouldn’t dream of not going.”

He smiled again before they lapsed into a comfortable silence. But details kept running through his mind anyway, mostly, had he forgotten anything? He ran through the list again and could find nothing. Then, as it had so often recently, his mind turned to Arthur Cobb, and he prayed once again that Hornblossom would keep his promise.

~

Asleep in his bed, Arthur Cobb felt a gentle tickle at his throat.

Thinking it was perhaps the lighting of a mosquito or the crawling of a small bug, he reached up to swipe it away. Before he could, he felt another, and then another. More than half-awake now, fearing an infestation of some sort, he reached to his throat to slap them away and his hand came upon hard metal. He opened his eyes.

Through the starlight drifting into his room, he saw three long foils were now pressed to his throat. Bizarrely, he thought at first they were radio antennas and he was having a close encounter. But when the middle one pressed sharply against his Adam’s apple, and he felt what might have been a drop of liquid trickle down his neck, he understood it was more than that. His bladder let go. He pressed himself deeper into his soft mattress. The sharp ends of the swords followed him down.

The light was such that he could not make out faces or details of any of the men who had him trussed up as well as any entomologist had ever pinned a bug. He thought he could just make out that the man in the middle wore a hat of some sort, but that might have just been a trick of the shadows.

His next thought was to ask them what they wanted, but he knew even the slightest movement of his throat was certain to send any one of those steely barbs plunging into his skin. No, whatever it was that these men wanted, they’d let him know when they were good and ready. It was only after what seemed to Cobb a dozen geologic eras passed that they did.

“You,” one of them said. The one in the middle. “Perfesser. Sirrah.”

He let the words linger a while, and if anything at all had been left in Cobb’s bladder, it wasn’t anymore.

“You got tings don’ belong to you,” the man went on, and Arthur knew suddenly that these were the men he’d been taunting, the ones who had taken the Lady Grace. But this was not what he’d expected.

As one, he felt the three sharp prongs retract a bit, but only a bit. Just enough to allow him to get a word or two out.

“I don’t …” he started to say, and seconds later felt a blade beneath his ear. The man had come from nowhere. Arthur knew he must have punctured his pillow just to get the knife there, and the wetness he now felt on that side of his head revealed the man’s knife had broken his skin.

“That not be the answer we come fer,” the man in the middle said. “Now, I made a promise not ta kill ya. But I made no promise I wouldn’ hurt ya. An’ I made no promise I’d let ya keep yer ears.”

With that, the knife beneath his ear pressed forward. Tears formed in Arthur’s eyes.

“An’ so, I’ll ask again. You got tings don’ belong to ya, do you not?”

The points against his throat let up once again, but the knife to the back of the ear remained where it was. “Back room,” Arthur choked out. “Hidden door in back of closet … but it’s locked …”

An explosion echoed throughout the house, causing Arthur to twitch and the knife to his ear to slice further. Moments later came another thunderous clap as the door inside the closet was kicked open. Arthur showed far more self-control this time.

It seemed to take an eternity, but shuffling sounds came from up the hall. “Think that’s it, Captain,” the voice said.

Forever and a day later, the sharp points to the left and right of Arthur’s neck ebbed somewhat and then were gone. An epoch thereafter, the knife was removed from behind Arthur’s ear. After that, the only danger to Arthur was the sharp point that had never left his Adam’s apple. He understood then that whoever wielded this sword, he was the most masterful of all.

“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods,” the man said quietly before he too removed his sword.

Arthur didn’t hear any of them leave the room. Minutes went by, then hours, but Arthur remained frozen in place until the first shafts of daylight revealed he was truly alone.

~

After stepping into the boathouse, Chris and Sarah walked down the two sets of metal stairs and then beneath the prow of the Pamela. Looking up, they both stopped in their tracks. Their eyes went wide. Over in the far slip, fully rigged now, her tall mast almost scraping the roof of the boathouse, was the fully rebuilt Lady Grace. Though her sails were set now, all ropes and rigging and ladders were where they should be. And in another hour or so, she would again, for the first time in three-hundred years, return where she belonged. On the open sea.

There were only dozens or so people here now, most of the workers having finished their jobs. The few Rumpsters he recognized were carrying foodstuffs up the ramp, to be handed off to someone waiting in the hold to stow them. Chris saw cases and cases of whiskey and wine being carted up, along with bread and meat bearing the familiar Costco label. He smiled to think that at some point, marine archeologists were going to have quite a mystery on their hands. The smile left his face when he remembered that wasn’t possible. No time to dwell on that now, he thought.

“Let’s go!” he said to Sarah, grabbing her hand. The two ran down the gangway.

Halfway to the ship, Chris heard the high-pitched ringing of a bell. Looking up, he saw a smiling Hornblossom standing on the quarterdeck with a rope in his hand. At the end of the rope was a shiny bell. Chris returned his smile. As the two went up the ramp, Chris was surprised at the cornucopia of smells: fresh paint, new canvas, rope, shellac, and other things. It only served to underscore how … new the thing really was.

When he approached Hornblossom, the captain bowed deeply in his direction, raising his head mid-bow. Chris unabashedly returned it, and also raised his head mid-bow. The two of them caught each other’s eye and smiled. When the two stood, Chris said, “You know Sarah, right?”

The captain bowed again, answering, “Not sure we’ve had the pleasure of bein’ formally introduced. However, I do recall yer bein’ at young Christopher’s side throughout me trial. An’ young Billy may have mentioned a word or two about an angel he’d met.”

Hornblossom winked. Sarah blushed. He went on.

“Anyway, young lad an’ lassie. It’s time fer ye to be getting’ the tour.”

The captain began the tour on the main deck, pointing out areas they’d left the same from the original ship, and other places where they’d opted to make improvements. He was especially proud of the gargoyle-like, intricately carved bowsprit. Whatever the creature was, it was designed to strike fear into whoever it was that saw it.

“It be a gift from one of yer townfolk, a man named Foley. You know him?”

Chris nodded and smiled. He knew Bill was handy with a saw, but had no idea what a master woodworker he truly was.

Next, Hornblossom took them below, showing them the captain’s cabin beneath the quarterdeck, fitted out now with an elegant desk and functional bed. Windows on either side let in plenty of light. On the desk, Chris saw two boxes, no doubt containing compass and sextant and other items necessary for navigation in the age of sail. Detailed charts and maps of the sort not available in Hornblossom’s time were spread out here and there.

Walking forward, he showed them the galley and the crew cabin, fitted with hammocks and tables and wooden lockers. Though darker here, Chris noticed a small door opening outward not far from the crew cabin and asked what it was. He caught Sarah smiling as if she already knew.

“Ah, that be the privy, me boy,” Hornblossom answered. “Hang yer ass out an let fly!”

Glancing again at Sarah, Chris smiled too, thinking maybe it had been a dumb question.

Though men scurried here and there, the captain continued their tour to the third and lowest deck. Chris was surprised to see that though he and Sarah had no problem, the captain and the other men had to bend down belowdeck due to low ceilings. He suspected that among other problems plaguing retired pirates, back problems were high on the list.

The lowest deck was crammed with barrels of ales and cheese and other foodstuffs, acting as both ballast and storage. Chris saw too that piles and piles of red bricks had been brought down here, no doubt to keep the ship stable. The captain must have seen Chris eying them.

“Normally, it would be extra cannon an’ balls, lad. Unfortunately, ye can’t have everything.” Chris smiled.

When the three made their way back onto the deck, Hornblossom had a quiet moment with the quartermaster and first mate to see if everything was on track, while Chris and Sarah talked with Billy. Sarah asked if he was excited about going home, and he was. Chris stayed quiet during that part of the conversation.

When done with his officers, Hornblossom came and interrupted them. “Master William,” he began. “I wonder if’n you’d be kind enough to see to sister Sarah fer a bit. Meself an’ young Christopher need ta have a quick word.”

Billy smiled and took Sarah’s arm. Without waiting for Chris, Hornblossom turned and walked down the ramp to the gangway. Confused for a moment, Chris scampered after him. He glanced again at all the activity while following Hornblossom, who seemed to be heading for the stairs that led outside. Chris saw the gunnery crew and all the other pirates running here and there, carrying things back and forth, telling Rumpsters where to put things and generally getting things ship-shape. But something was wrong, and he wasn’t sure what.

Realizing that, he stopped a moment. When he finally turned, he saw Hornblossom was already halfway up the stairs leading outside, not waiting for him. Still puzzled, thinking something just wasn’t right, Chris hurriedly followed.

~

Arthur Cobb lay in bed brooding. He had managed somehow, once the sun had fully risen, to get out of bed and change his damp bedclothes. He’d then glanced in the mirror and saw puncture wounds on his neck, as if he’d been bitten by a three-toothed vampire with a wide mouth. He even got up the courage to feel the scab left by a deep cut behind his ear.

After gently washing the wounds with a damp facecloth, he put some antibiotic gel on each before covering them with gauze and Band-Aids. That done, he went back to his bedroom and closed the curtains before climbing back into bed. After the ignominy of last evening, he had no desire to face the world. He dozed fitfully, waking up occasionally after being spooked by something, only to fall back to sleep. On the last of those occasions he awoke, he flinched to see a man sitting in a chair by his bed.

He wore what looked like a filthy bandana on his head and some kind of multi-button puffy shirt. There was a many days growth of beard on his face. When Arthur saw he had a long knife in his hand, he took in a deep breath. The man heard it. Looking over at Cobb, he smiled. The professor drew in another sharp breath at the atrocity of the man’s teeth, brown and yellow as if he were a five pack a day smoker. But for some reason, Arthur sensed it was a sincere smile just the same.

“Shh, shh,” the man said, not unkindly. When he saw Arthur stared nervously at his knife, he said, “What, this?” He took the knife and used it to pick beneath his fingernails. “Jes a spot a hygiene, is all. Can ye believe I’m still pullin’ out tar an’ bitsa feather?” he asked.

Arthur couldn’t, but nodded anyway. The man went on.

“Anyhow, I hate to jes pop in on ye like this. But I know what them bad men did ta ya last evenin’. I overheard ‘em makin’ their plans an’ followed ‘em here. That’s how I know where ye live.”

Arthur thought the man’s accent sounded similar to that dreadful man last evening, the one in the middle who’d put a sword to his throat. But this man seemed harmless enough. Almost friendly. Perhaps things were about to get interesting.

“I know they came here an’ robbed ya, an’ no doubt committed foul atrocities agin’ yer person. That’s what I’m here about. Ya see, they be bad men. Very bad men. An’ they done the same ta me as they done ta you, ‘cept me they kidnapped an’ then forced me ta take part in their turrible deeds. Jes be glad they ain’t kidnapped ya.”

Arthur shuddered at the thought.

“Those men,” the man went on. “They plan on leavin’ this place soon. But me? I like it here jes foin. This time. This place. It’s got hot food an’ warm beds, not ta mention them pretty ladies. So no, I ain’t in any hurry to leave here at all. Not now. Not ever. An’ I’m thinkin …”

The man paused from his fingernail picking long enough to send another horrid smile Arthur’s way.

“An’ I’m thinkin’ that if you an’ I join forces, then mayhaps we become a formidable team, an’ mayhaps we both get what we want.”

Arthur still wasn’t quite sure what the man was talking about, but he wanted to hear more. Much more.

~

“You can’t be serious,” Chris said.

The captain stared back at him with a gleam in his eye.

“Dead serious, boy. Yer gonna go piratin’, then ye need ta be dressed as a pirate.”

“But … but …” Chris stammered.

He wanted to say he’d watched the Holcombe sisters oversee the creation of entire pirate wardrobes. Heck, even Billy was looking good these days, in a blousy, puffy, whole-lotta-buttons sort of way. Surely, Chris could fit into some of Billy’s clothes.

But no, that was stupid too. What he was wearing right now – an A&F T-shirt, denim shorts, and sneakers – was just fine for their short trip today. He knew that. Then again, he knew, so did the captain. He glanced into the captain’s face and noted the gleam in his eye.

“You’re going to make me do this, aren’t you?” he asked. After Hornblossom nodded, Chris went on. “You’re just getting back at me, or having some kind of fun with me, aren’t you?” he asked. The captain nodded again.

With a sigh, Chris climbed in. It took some time, because the captain was unsatisfied with his first six selections, sending him back again and again. When he emerged from his seventh trip, the captain was more than satisfied.

He had selected for Chris a pair of yellow boots with gold chains, gold and brown striped pants, and a pink, faded, and bleach-stained T-shirt that featured a furry cartoon character named “Alf.” And if you believed the somewhat profane caption, Alf was having a very bad day indeed.

“Now, now, me boy,” Hornblossom said smiling before clapping him on the back. “Now ye be lookin’ like a pirate. An a foin pirate indeed.”

Chris was still stewing as the captain glanced skyward. Apparently noting the lateness of the hour, without another word he turned and began to walk back across the parking lot and ultimately, Chris knew, back to Barney’s estate where the Lady Grace awaited. Chris stood for only another moment beside the collection box, wondering how in the hell he would ever explain this, and who in the hell Alf was, before he ran to catch up.

~