Chapter
1: Ship in A Bottle
Karl
Ransenhoff took slow sidling steps as he walked along Hubbard Beach, California
near the Baja Peninsula one bright morning in early July. He wore blue Umbro
shorts, a thin white tee shirt, and a long red velvet robe that was in tatters.
Despite the shabbiness of his dress, he was a striking looking man of
sixty-five, whose strong boned cheeks, broad forehead, small stern lips, and
low, wolfen brow gave him the air of a stern philosopher. His balding head,
with its vertical tuft of gray hair at the back, and his stern, fiery eyes
which shown clear blue behind his thin framed glasses, seemed to indicate a
self-understood eccentricity. He was tall, and lanky, and extraordinarily fit.
He had been a fencer in his youth, and he retained the lithe, sinewy muscles of
an athlete. Every day, twice a day, he went through a rigorous exercise routine
involving calisthenics and jumping rope. Ahead of him walked his old golden
retriever, Manny, who like his master, retained a lean and athletic physique.
Karl and Manny lived together in a one-room shack on the beach. Karl had
decided to move from San Diego five years ago in an attempt to escape a life
which, for him, was becoming unbearable. He had worked for thirty four years as
a junior high school English teacher, and his students had loved him for his
sharp wit, his leniency, and the fact that he had always taught classic
adventure novels, which for him held a great deal of sentimental value. Karl
loved adventure. However, his life, as he saw it, had been devoid of it. As a
child, he had dreamt of going to sea after reading Treasure Island. But, partly because Karl lived far from the ocean,
and partly because his parents were traditionalists who valued education and
civic duty above all else, this dream eventually faded into the background.
Karl went to school, retaining his love of literature, and thrived
academically. It seemed a natural fit for him to become a teacher, and indeed
he loved his job. At university, he met his future wife, Linda. Linda had been
an aspiring painter, but when she and Karl had a son, David, her dreams of
artistic glory faded. Karl had to make sacrifices as well. Rearing a son had
been costly for him financially. He had paid for his college education, his medical
school tuition, and then his wedding. And because Karl was a spendthrift who
owned thousands of volumes of books and an array of old African artifacts (most
of which he now kept in storage), and had paid a hefty mortgage on his house
(which, since he had moved, was still on the market), Karl now found himself
thousands of dollars in debt. This was a burden Karl could carry. However,
things truly fell apart for him when Linda became sick.
Linda
was found to have ovarian cancer at the age of sixty. Her health deteriorated
rapidly. During the period leading up to Linda’s death, Karl was in a state of
constant panic. He loved his wife dearly, but there were times when Karl
resented her for her illness and even secretly wished for the hastening of her
death. When she finally did die, Karl’s resentfulness did not completely
dissipate. In fact, at the moments proceeding her death, Karl did not weep. His
only thought was that he had no money saved up for her funeral, and that again
he would have to take out a loan. This thought, of course, appalled him, but
Karl had always been a stern-minded man, and was not prone to express his
emotions. The last year, he had been steadily putting himself at an emotional
distance from his wife. And now that she was dead, he could not bring himself
to mourn for her. Over the next following months, however, it became clear that
Karl had not been unaffected. He stopped sleeping, sometimes for days in a row,
and his work suffered. His sharp wit was dulled, and he became disoriented and
disorganized. Then, his principal assigned him a new syllabus, one that did not
include his beloved adventure novels. He tried to cope, but finally, out of
sheer exasperation, he quit his job—just short of a major increase in his
pension.
When
Karl’s son, who was already greatly worried about his father, heard that he had
quit his job, he called him to try and persuade him to change his mind, and
seek help through therapy.
“Therapy?”
Karl had replied. “What the Hell do I need therapy for? I’m fine.”
“Dad,”
said David, “You’re not sleeping. You’re house is a wreck. You haven’t properly
grieved for mom. You can’t expect to just carry on with your life as if nothing
happened. You haven’t even wept for her!”
“When
have you ever seen me weep, David? You should know by now that I keep my
emotion where it belongs—at the pit of my stomach. It keeps me strong.”
“You think it
makes you strong to bury your emotions?” David replied. “To deny your love for
mom? It’s the same thing with your debt. You think that if you just keep
denying the problem, it will just go away. But it doesn’t work like that.”
Karl
laughed sarcastically. “Now you’re going to give me shit about the debt? Whose
fault do you think it is? You’re the one that begged me to pay your tuition for
that ridiculous education of yours. You’re the one that coerced me into paying
for your wedding. And now you’re
telling me to go see a shrink?”
“Dad,”
said David. “You have no right to speak to me that way. I’m just trying to
help.”
“I
don’t need your help! Save your help for your patients!”
David
laughed ironically. “Fine, dad. Have it your way. But I can tell, even as I
speak to you, that you are losing your mind.”
At
this point Karl completely lost his cool. He began cursing at his son. “Fuck
you!” he cried. “You can keep your goddamn opinions to yourself! As a matter of
fact, don’t call me anymore. I don’t want to speak to you or have anything to
do with you! Goodbye!”
Then,
he hung up the phone. And indeed, Karl had not spoken to his son in over five
years. Even after David’s wife gave birth to his granddaughter, he had refused
to see or speak with him or his family. Not long after this, he moved with
Manny to his shack on Hubbard Beach.
Now,
as Karl walked along the beach, watching as Manny chased seagulls and pawed at
the various objects in the serf, vague thoughts of his wife and son swam
through his chaotic mind. He looked out at the sea and remembered his childhood
dream of being a sailor. Images from his beloved adventure novels came to his
mind. He saw Captain Ahab, rousing his men, and Gulliver sailing off to unknown
lands. The sea seemed to be calling to him, in a language he could not quite
understand, promising him something—a gift which he felt he could grasp if only
he could reach far enough.
Just as this
thought was slowly permeating through his mind, Karl heard the sound of Manny
barking from up the beach. He looked up, and saw his dog with his nose in the
sand. Manny looked up and barked at his master again. Then he began digging.
Manny often found things on the beach. Usually it was worthless trash, but this
didn’t prevent Karl from feeling a sense of excitement each time. Karl walked
over to the spot and smiled down at Manny. “What have you found, Manny?” he
asked. “Some treasure?” He looked down at where his dog was digging. There, buried in the sand, he saw a
yellow glint of light, and recognized a piece of clear glass. He crouched down,
and as his dog watched with eager curiosity, Karl pried the object out of the
sand.
It
was a large glass bottle, about the length of his forearm, and somewhat wider,
with a rubber stop, and inside was a miniature model of what appeared to be a
three-mast ship with black sails, with a woman’s head and torso carved into the
bow. Also, tucked away in the side of the bottle, there was a piece of
parchment paper, with something written across the surface. Karl took off the
stopper, reached inside with his long, nimble fingers, and managed to pull out
the parchment. He spread it open and read, in plain English, these words:
“After the year 1905, to break the spell, say Sheranza, and cast into the ocean.” Karl looked down at Manny, as
if in search of an explanation, but Manny looked as dumbfounded as he himself
felt. Karl shrugged. “Strange,” he thought, looking at the bottle. The
craftsmanship of the ship was superb. The wood looked to be a kind of dark oak,
and it was well-aged. “I wonder what Gregory would make of this,” he said
aloud.
Gregory was an old
man that lived across town that sometimes came to the beach and stopped in to
visit. He was a carpenter, and once owned a prominent business but was now
retired, and he was an avid collector of rare antiques. If anyone would be able
to tell Karl anything about this strange object, it was Gregory.
Karl went back
home, carrying the bottle, with Manny by his side. He took a shower in the
outhouse behind the shack, got dressed, and he and Manny left for Gregory’s,
Karl toting the bottle in a small red shopping bag.
Chapter 2: A Visit
In the four and a
half years that Karl had known Gregory, he had visited his home only once, when
Gregory had invited him for tea one evening. They had sat and talked about
various things—their professions, their now dead wives, and mostly, their
loneliness. Gregory had told Karl to stop at by any time, but Karl, a prideful
and stubborn man, and a stranger to friendships, had neglected to do so. Now,
he only saw Gregory when he visited the beach, which was not so often. Gregory
spent most of his time in his workshop, crafting shelves. He was no longer in
business, but he was still constantly at work, producing shelves to give as
gifts to his family and friends. The older he got, Gregory’s shelves (one of
which was in Karl’s shack) became more and more ornate. For years he had
considered himself a craftsmen, but now that he was free to work at his own
pace, he and everyone who knew him considered him to be an artist.
Gregory lived on
an upscale street across town, about three miles from the beach, in a one story
matte-stone house with a stonewall lining a sandy driveway, on which an old,
red Cadillac coup—with a license plate that read “WOOD”—sat glistening in the
sun. Karl walked up the red brick steps leading to the house and rang the
doorbell twice. Waiting for several moments, Karl thought to himself that
Gregory was probably in his basement, where he kept his work shop. Finally, Gregory
opened the door.
He was tall—almost
as tall as Karl, in his early to mid-seventies, with thin strands of pale
orange hair that had once been red and pale gray eyes that had once been blue.
His lumpy brow was heavily furrowed, and his gray, untamed eyebrows grew like
ancient forests above his eyes. He had a stern look about him, and being
purblind and too stubborn to wear glasses, he looked at Karl for a moment with
untrusting eyes, as if at a stranger. Then, his glassy eyes came to a focus and
his face changed. He smiled warmly at Karl.
“Karl,” he said in
his deep husky voice. “Good to see you.”
“I brought something
to show you,” said Karl, holding up the red shopping bag.
“Come in,” said
Gregory.
They walked
through the foyer, which was beautifully carpeted by an old red and blue
Persian rug, and decorated with a small oak table against the far wall which
Gregory had carved, covered in a bronze statue of a woman in a flowing dress
and carrying a bouquet. There was also a coat rack—also carved by Gregory—and a
grand piano. “Come into the kitchen,” said Gregory. “I just did the dishes this
morning.”
The kitchen was pristine,
with a round chestnut table and several high backed chairs, all of which
Gregory had carved. “Would you like anything to drink?” Gregory asked.
“A little sherry
would be good.”
“I have just the bottle,” said Gregory.
Karl as a rule
abstained from drinking alcohol. In fact, he hadn’t drunk any since his wife
died. But something about his recent discovery was giving him impetus to
indulge in old pleasures.
Gregory poured two
glasses, and the men sat down at the table. “So,” said Gregory, “what have you
got for me?”
Karl reached down
into the red shopping bag on the floor and pulled out the bottle. “This,” he
said, setting it on the table in front of Gregory.
Gregory pulled his
reading glasses from his shirt pocket and put them on. Leaning into the object
on the table, grasping it with his large, agile hands, he inspected it closely
while Karl watched, anticipating his response. “Well,” said Gregory coolly.
“It’s eighteenth century. Probably British. Where’d you find this?”
“It was buried on
the beach,” said Karl. “Manny found it, actually.”
Gregory chortled.
He squinted at the object, then looked at Karl. “What are you going to do with
it?” he asked.
“Well that’s the
thing,” said Karl, and he pulled out the piece of parchment paper from his
pocket. “This was inside the bottle when I found it.” He handed over the
parchment to Gregory, who read it, and smiled.
“Hm. Now isn’t
that interesting?”
“Is it real?”
asked Karl.
“It looks genuine
to me,” said Gregory. “Though, I can’t make any sense of it. Sheranza. What a strange sounding
word...”
“That’s what I
thought,” said Karl.
“Are you going do
it?” asked Gregory after a long pause. “I mean, say Sheranza and cast it into the ocean?”
“I don’t know,”
said Karl. “I suppose I have nothing to lose.”
“Right,” said
Gregory. “Who knows? Maybe a genie will appear!”
Karl laughed. He
had missed Gregory’s whimsical humor, and kicked himself for not coming to
visit him earlier. After finishing several more glasses of sherry and visiting
Gregory’s workshop, where Gregory showed him a new shelf with ornately carved
sidings, Karl left, along with Manny, carrying the bottle in his shopping bag.
He felt a renewed sense of excitement over the possibilities his new treasure
might have in store. He laughed to himself. “Maybe a genie will appear.”
Chapter 3: Sheranza!
Karl returned home
and put the bottle on his mantle. He stared at it for a long time, and lay down
on his couch. He continued to stare at it as he lay there, pondering. “What
could it mean?” he thought. “Sheranza... It’s like something out of one of those
books. Could there really be some kind of magic behind this strange little
object I’ve found?” He closed his eyes. A series of images from the many
adventure books he’d read came to his mind. Then he saw his wife. She seemed to
be saying something to him. “Go ahead, Karl. Take the adventure.” He opened his
eyes. The bottle on the mantel seemed to emanate a kind of calm magic. It was
as if the ship inside the bottle were actually at sea, heading to some unknown
destination. The destination was somewhere inside of Karl’s soul, it seemed, at
the core of his being. He was compelled to reach this destination, and he felt
there was only one thing he could do.
He stood up,
grabbed the bottle from the mantel, and opened his front door. Manny ran out,
and Karl followed. Karl walked quickly around to the back of his shack toward
the sea. He stood gazing out over the water, Manny at his side looking up at
him, as if wondering what he was waiting for. “Well,” he said aloud. “Here goes
nothing.”
Using both hands,
he chucked the bottle as far as he could into the sea, saying the word “Sheranza.”
The bottle upended, and began to sink. Karl watched it from the shore, hoping
that something magical would happen, and telling himself that nothing would at
the same time. When the bottle was no longer visible, he waited, for a moment,
then two, but nothing happened. Karl sighed. He put his head down, and turned
away.
As
he was walking away, Manny, who had not followed him, began barking. Karl
looked. Manny was barking out at the ocean, where the surface of the water was
bubbling violently. Karl again approached the shore, staring in amazement, his
mouth agape. A large shadow was forming in the water, as if there were a giant
whale beneath the waves. Three large masts, with furled black sails, and a bowsprit,
broke the water’s surface. Higher and higher they rose, shimmering in the light
ofthe afternoon sun. Karl, weak in the knees, began to back away slowly in
astonishment. Finally, from out of the sea arose a giant ship, just like the
one that had been in the bottle, with the figure of a woman’s head and torso carved
onto the bow. With a gush, the water receded from the sides of the ship’s deck
and out of the gun holes, and there it stood, proud and majestic, upon the
surface of the sea.
As
he stood gazing at the ship, Karl thought of all his sleepless nights and
wondered if he was truly going insane as his son had thought. But looking at
Manny, he could see that he too was seeing the same thing, and he knew that he
was not insane, and that it was actually happening. Karl waited in silence,
expecting something—Lord knows what—to happen. Finally, the silence was broken
by a loud deep voice yelling “Wa-hoo!” from the interior of the ship. Karl’s
heart leapt inside his chest, and when a group of weathered men, dressed in
motley attire, began climbing out of the ship’s hold, a shiver ran down his
spine and he himself grew pale. The men aboard the ship cheered and jumped up
and down, hugging one another, slapping one another on the backs. One of the
men, who from a distance looked swarthy and mean, and seemed to be wearing an
eye patch over his left eye and a black bandana over his head, broke away from
the rest of the men and went to the edge of the ship. He looked out, curiously.
Soon, his gaze met Karl’s. He stood, his one eye fixed on Karl, and a dour
expression ran over his heavily lined face. The other men soon noticed Karl as
well, and gave him the same scrutinizing look.
“Ahoy
there!” yelled the man with the eye patch. “What be your name, my lad?”
Karl
tried to answer, but found himself unable to speak. He muttered to himself
silently, trying to remember his name.
“What’s
that?” cried the man. “You have to shout!”
“I’m
Karl!” he finally yelled, startled by the sound of his voice.
“Wait there, Karl, ma’ lad!” the man
yelled back. “We will come to shore!”
The
men began lowering themselves in rowboats from the side of the ship. There were
three boats in total, each carrying about eight men. As the boats came ashore,
Karl observed them carefully. They were all dressed in similar fashion, with
outfits of worn leather and plaid. They were bedecked with gold jewelry, wore
bandanas, and their bodies were covered with tattoos. Most of them were
unshaven, and had strong, sinewy muscles. Leather scabbards with gold-hilted
swords rested on their laps. Most of them looked European, but there were
several who appeared to be either Pacific Islanders or Africans.
When they reached
shore they got out of the boats and surrounded Karl, who stood baffled and
amazed. The man with the eye patch stepped forward. He was wearing a leather
vest over a thick white cotton shirt, loose red trousers and black leather
boots. He rested his hand on the gold hilt of his curved saber, which hung at
his side from a leather scabbard. His one eye was foggy and gray, and he wore
an expression of cold scrutiny on his weather-beaten face. Then with a smile,
he held out his hand. It was large, calloused, and dirt-stained. “My name is
Reginald,” he said. “First mate of our good ship the Beacon.”
Karl looked long
at Reginald’s hand, deliberating. It wasn’t simply that he didn’t trust this
man, though there was indeed something unsettling about his appearance. But
rather, he didn’t quite trust himself and his own sanity at this moment.
Despite this, perhaps out of sheer bafflement, he took Reginald’s hand. His
grip was so firm and abrupt, it awakened Karl as if from a slumber.
“Now, Karl,” he said, “why don’t you
explain yourself to me and me mates?”
Karl
swallowed. Beside him, Manny began to whimper quietly. Looking around at these
men, Karl hoped that whatever response he came up with would be satisfactory.
The only problem was, the only response he could give hardly seemed reasonable,
or even sane.
Chapter
4: Two Feasts, a Remarkable Story, And a Proposal
Before Karl spoke,
he looked around at the men surrounding him. They looked mean, and were full of
apprehension. “Well?” said Reginald. Karl noticed that Reginald’s hand was
resting on the hilt of his sword.
Karl began to
stammer. “I...I...I found this bottle...this ship in a bottle, and...there was
a parchment inside...” He held up the piece of parchment paper and handed it to
Reginald, who read it carefully. “So I did it,” said Karl. “I said ‘Sheranza’
and...”
“Ah,” said Reginald.
“Yes, my lad. It makes perfect sense! The she-devil cursed us, and you broke
the curse. Tell us my good man, where are we, and what year is this?”
“We’re
in Hubbard Beach, California, and it’s 2016,” said Karl.
“Well give me a second eye!” Reginald
shouted. He turned to his men. “Do you hear that, lads? 2016! No wonder I’m so
hungry! I haven’t had a bite to eat in over three hundred years!” He and the
rest of the men fell into a fit of laughter. Karl tried to smile, but his face
was frozen in dumb amazement.
Reginald
looked down at Manny, who sat wagging his tail vigorously. “Is that your doggie
there?” Reginald asked. “What’s his name?”
“Manny,”
said Karl.
“Ah,
Manny,” said Reginald, rubbing the scruff of Manny’s neck. “Good name for a
dog!” Manny responded by licking Reginald’s dirt stained hand and an even more
vigorous wagging of his tail. Wiping his hand on his pant leg, Reginald looked
over in the direction of Karl’s shack. “Is that your home, Karl?” he asked.
Karl
nodded.
“Lovely, indeed!
Is anyone else at home?”
“No,” said Karl.
“It’s just me.”
Reginald looked at
him long and hard. Then his face broke out into a smile. “Well, Karl. What do
you say we have ourselves a feast?”
“A feast?” said
Karl. “Well, I...”
“Boys!”
interrupted Reginald. “Let’s bring out the stores!”
The men began to
go back toward the boats. Karl stopped Reginald. “Are you sure your food’s
still good?” he said. “I mean, after three hundred years?”
“Why not?” said Reginald.
“I’m still fresh, don’t you think?” He winked at Karl and continued on his way.
“Come on, you bow-legged brigands!” he cried. “Hop to it!”
Karl
watched as the men rowed back to their ship, climbed aboard and went into the
hold. A moment later they came out carrying several large slabs of cured beef,
jars of beans, pickled onions, and a keg of rum. They carried all of this back
to the beach, and up to Karl’s shack.
“I don’t have many
chairs,” said Karl to Reginald as the men placed the food on a glass table
outside of the shack.
“That’s fine,”
said Reginald. “We don’t mind sitting in the sand, do we lads?”
The rum was pored
and the beef was cut and served. The men ate with relish, stuffing their faces
with beef and letting the juice run down their chins. Karl himself barely ate.
He stood by, observing the men. They laughed and made vulgar jokes about their
bowels and their lustful desires. Reginald, who was seated in the sand in a
circle of men, called Karl over.
“Karl,” he said.
“Have a drink with us. Come, sit down.” Karl, feeling obliged (and somewhat
afraid) sat down and one of the men brought him some rum. He sat up straight,
sipping it, feeling self-conscious. “So Karl, my good man,” Reginald said. “You’re
all alone? Don’t you have a wife?”
“I had a wife,”
said Karl, “but she died five years ago.”
“Ah,” said
Reginald, looking serious for the first time Karl could remember. “Well then,
here’s to your wife.” He held up his cup, and the rest of the men did the same.
“May her soul be at peace,” he said. Reginald and the men downed their glasses
in a single gulp. Karl took a small sip and sat feeling sheepish.
“Five years is a
long time,” said one of the other pirates, a ruddy man with a graying black
wisp of a beard. “Have you thought of taking another wife?”
“No,” said Karl.
“She was the love of my life.”
“Ah, yes,” said
Reginald. “True love spans life and death. Good for you my lad.” There wasn’t a
hint of irony in Reginald’s tone. In fact, by listening to him, Karl got the
sense that he was a romantic.
“Is there a
brothel you visit here in the town?” asked another pirate. “A man grows lonely
after five years.” The men laughed and clinked their glasses together in
agreement.
“No,” said Karl.
“Even if there was one, I wouldn’t go.”
“Ah,” said the ruddy
pirate. “Then you must’ve grown strong in the wrist by now!” Again the men
laughed, clinked their glasses and drank.
“Don’t mind Joe,”
said Reginald. “He has no mind, you see. Just a pecker. At least that’s the
only thing he puts to use.”
Joe held up his
arm and pointed at his wrist, which was incredibly thick and sinewy. “You see
that?” he said. “That’s not all from doing battle with my saber, if you know
what I mean!“ Again the men exploded into peels of laughter.
Karl looked around
at the men. They were all of them hammered. One of them, a fat man with gold
hoop earrings, began recounting a story about a time he couldn’t pay for a
prostitute, and was accosted by her pimp.
“So the limey
bastard came running after me when I walked out the door,” he said. “I was just
minding my own business, and I hear this anxious cry from behind me: ‘Hey, you
scurvy pecker! You’d better get back here and pay what’s due. Otherwise I’ll
come over there and cut off the only thing that makes you a man!’ So I stopped,
and turned around. ‘Certainly,’ I said. ‘I’ll pay you everything, so long as
you service me better than your moldy-bushed whore could!’” Reginald and the
rest of the men laughed heartily. “Well,” continued the fat man, “the bastard
let out a cry and came running at me with his saber, and I turned around and
with one lightning stroke his head hits the floor. The whores at the window let
out such a cry!” He laughed a horrible, throaty laugh, and the rest of the men
joined him in his merriment.
Karl sat and watched
as the men continued to eat and drink. By the time they were finished, the keg
of rum was gone, and so was the cured beef, pickled onions and beans. Drunk,
all of the men fell fast asleep, and didn’t wake up till it was nearly dark.
As
the men slept, Karl looked around at the sleeping figures with their sabers and
their tattooed bodies, listened to their collective snoring, which sounded not
unlike a jackhammer, and wondered to himself if he were indeed dreaming or
going insane. But certainly, it was all real. The sand was still real beneath
his feet. His shack was still the same as it always had been, and so was Manny.
So what could it all mean? Part of him was afraid. He even thought more than
once of calling the police. But more than being afraid, he was intrigued, and
excited to find out what it could all be about.
Karl
was pacing in his shack when he heard the sound of moaning and groaning coming
from outside. He walked out and saw that the men were all awakening at the same
time. “What a sleep!” one of them cried out. “I feel fresh out of my mother’s
womb!”
“I’m
starving!” cried another.
Reginald,
who had been relieving himself at the water’s edge, turned. “Well, boys!” he
cried. “I’d say it’s time for another feast. Bring out some more!”
So
the men all went back to the ship and collected more food, and more rum. They
began their feast as the sun was going down. They built a fire, and sat around
it singing, eating, and drinking. Karl was initially worried. He feared that
someone might see the fire from afar and report it. He complained to the men,
but they just laughed at him. Shaking his head, he went and sat with Manny near
the shore, staring out at the ocean. As he was trying to wrap his head around
all that was happening, he was approached by Reginald, who sat beside him in
the sand.
“Well,
Karl,” said Reginald, “I’d say it’s time I clear things up for you.”
“That
would be nice,” said Karl, his tone full of irony despite himself.
“No worries, my
friend. I will tell you all.” Reginald took out a long amber pipe and a leather
tobacco pouch, and proceeded to prepare a smoke. He lit a match and took a long
pull on his pipe. Then he spoke. “My full name is Reginald Patterson Pierce,”
he said, “and I was—am—the first mate of the Beacon. My comrades and I are, as
you may have guessed, not into any legal enterprise, but are in fact pirates of
the open sea. Our captain was William Desperteaux, the most cunning, greedy
bastard that ever sailed under the black flag. He and his lover, the sorceress Envilisa,
ruled over our ship like tarantulas, so that we could barely stand the sight of
them. We set sail from England in early Autumn of 1704, for the island of Kojiwana
in the South Pacific, in search of the lost treasure of Seymar Candoleen, the
last king of Atlantis. The legend was that, knowing Atlantis was doomed to
destruction, Candoleen buried all the city’s treasure in what was then the
mountain of Cylo-Koo, now Mt Kojiwana. Included in this treasure was the famed
Diamond of Candoleen. It was said that, when wielded by a sorcerer, the diamond
had the power to give him and the one he loved everlasting life. This diamond,
along with the rest of the treasure, had a value that would make us the richest
men in the world, above even the Emperor of China. After months of toil, we
found the treasure, and made our way home. However, we got waylaid in the
Americas, and that’s where the great betrayal took place.”
Reginald
took a long pull on his pipe, and blew the smoke out toward the sea.
“The captain called a meeting on
deck,” he continued. “We all figured it was to talk about our course home. We
waited, my men and me, on the main deck, watching the Captain and his terrible
vixen as they stood above us on the quarter deck—he with a little smirk on his
face, she peering at us with the cold eyes of a viper. ‘Men,’ cried the Captain.
‘Before I discuss with you the plans for our course homeward, Envilisa has a
word to share with you.’ She stepped forward, bedecked in her black lace and velvet
dress, her black hair tied up in two buns on her head, the Diamond of Candoleen
glowing white around her neck. She raised both her arms and shut her eyes. We
stood transfixed. Then she opened her eyes, showing just the whites, and with
her forked tongue she began to speak in a language that must be spoken by the
Devil himself. Before we could bat an eye, we were done for. They took all the
treasure for themselves and left us in a shrunken ship inside a glass bottle.
“As
far as the parchment in the bottle goes—that, I suspect, must have been the
cause of Leroy McFee. Leroy was off at a saloon getting drunk, the poor
bastard, when the meeting was called. He must have come back, found the ship
gone and the miniature floating in the water in its place, and taken it ashore
to a local magician, who gave him the reverse for the spell.”
Reginald
took another long pull on his pipe. Karl sat dumbfounded. In all its
intricacies, it seemed like a logical story. But still, there was nothing
logical about the fact that he was sitting here talking to a pirate from the
eighteenth century.
“It’s
incredible,” he said. “I really can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, lad.
Believe it.”
”So what now?” asked
Karl, after a long pause.
“Now,”
said Reginald. “Now, we go after what was stolen from us.”
“The
Treasure of Candoleen?” asked Karl.
“Ay,”
said Reginald, nodding. “The Treasure of Candoleen.”
Karl
looked out at the sea. A flock of seagulls was circling in the distance. The
sound of the waves hitting the shore and then receding was like the voice of a
hypnotist, enticing him to fall into a deep trance. Karl imagined the Treasure
of Candoleen. He saw a room full of gold coins, diamonds, rubies,
emeralds—everything and more than he had ever imagined from one of his beloved
adventure novels.
“Of
course,” said Reginald, breaking the spell, “you’re welcome to come with us.”
Karl
turned to Reginald in amazement. Reginald smiled, pulling on his pipe.
“It
should be an adventure, my good man,” he said, releasing the smoke from his
lungs. “That’s saying the least. So what do you say?”
Again, Karl looked
out over the water. The seagulls were still circling, only now, they seemed
more alive, more like the predators they were. Karl smiled. “If you can bear
the burden of an old man,” he said, “I’d be happy to come.”
“That’s
a good man!” cried Reginald, slapping him on the shoulder. “’Bring your dog,
too. We’d much enjoy the company of your beast on board.”
Karl nodded in
agreement, and rubbed the scruff of Manny’s neck.
“’Twill be a
wonderful adventure!” cried Reginald. “Rum will be drunk, blood will be
spilled, and treasure will be had!” He laughed a hearty, fearsome laugh. Karl
felt intoxicated by Reginald’s romantic enthusiasm.
“But,”
said Karl, after another long pause. “Where exactly are we going?”
“First,
my good man,” said Reginald, “We need more rum.”
Chapter
5: Drinks on the House!
Karl
assumed that what Reginald had meant was that they needed more rum from the
ship, but as it turned out, they were running low, and needed more for their
journey. “Where is the local distillery, my good man?” asked Reginald as he and
Karl walked over to join the rest of the men.
“There
isn’t one, as far as I know,” said Karl.
Reginald
looked bemused. “Well then where do you get your rum?”
“The
local liquor store,” said Karl.
“Well
then that’s where we shall go. Lads!” He addressed his men. “We’ll be needing
five strong backs to help carry away the rum.” Karl didn’t like the sound of
the phrase “carry away.” Five pirates volunteered, and they, along with
Reginald, went back to the boats to retrieve several sacks from their ship to
carry away the rum.
Karl hoped that
Reginald and his men had money of their own. He himself obviously didn’t have
enough money to buy rum for everyone. He meant to voice his concerns to Reginald,
but when Reginald got back, he slapped him on the back and told him to lead the
way before Karl could say anything.
It was very late and everything but the liquor
store was closed. The store was inside a small, rectangular building made of well-aged
African Ebony wood. It was owned by a quiet, dumpy Mexican man named Paco, and
on the front of the building was a neon sign that read, “Paco’s Liquor.” The
men entered the store, and Karl watched as the pirates looked around.
The store was a long narrow room, cramped with a
large cherry oak countertop that lined the right wall, and shelves filled with
bottles of alcohol on the left. Except for a little ivory lamp with a green
shade sitting on the countertop, the only light was provided by a single
forty-watt bulb on the high ceiling. On the floor was a white and blue Persian
rug decorated with peach blossoms that appeared to have been stomped on by
hundreds of dirt-covered soles. The entire room was reflected by a giant mirror
that completely covered the right wall. Looking at this mirror, Karl
scrutinized the back of a short, furtive looking Mexican man wearing a straw
hat. This was Paco.
“Where
are the kegs of rum?” one of the pirates exclaimed.
Paco
looked at the men curiously with his beady eyes. He shook his head, and with a
faint, ponderous voice slowly answered: “We don’t got no kegs here.”
“Well boys!” said Reginald, completely
undeterred. “Bottles it is then!” He and the other men proceeded to pull every
bottle off of the shelves and put them into the sacks.
“Hey!” cried Paco.
“What the Hell do you think you’re doing? You have to pay for all that!”
Reginald simply
laughed and continued loading the bottles.
Karl heard the
sound of a loud click and turned to Paco. He was holding a large shotgun. “I
said, you got to pay for that.”
Reginald and the
pirates turned around. Karl watched as a sly smile formed on Reginald’s lips.
He placed his sack on the floor, and stood, placing his hands on his hips. “OK,”
he said. “You got us. We’ll pay for it. Now be a good lad and put the gun away.”
Paco’s
jaw was quivering. He cocked his weapon and pointed it at Reginald. Reginald’s
face was completely unchanged. He turned to his men, and together they shared a
good laugh. He looked again at Paco. “My good man,” he said. “You don’t want to
be doing anything brash, now do you? Like losing your head? Eh?”
“I ain’t losing my
head,” said Paco, beads of sweat running down his face. “But you guys got to
pay for that.”
Reginald’s face
turned serious and he stared at Paco, as if considering. Then, again, he
smiled. “Of course,” he said. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a large
leather wallet. “I’ve got the money right here.” He pulled out several bills
and walked up to Paco, who lowered his weapon and watched as Reginald
approached. Then, Reginald, whose eyes suddenly filled with fiery wrath, all in
one swift motion threw his money on the floor, grabbed the hilt of his sword,
drew it, and with one slash, cut Paco’s head clean off. A spout of blood shot
up from Paco’s neck, and his head and body fell lifeless to the floor.
“Boys!”
cried Reginald. “The booty is ours!”
As
the men cheered, Karl gazed down at Paco’s body. Blood was flowing like a river
from his neck. Then he looked at Paco’s head, which was frozen in an expression
of sheer and unsuspecting terror. Reginald came up behind him and spoke. “Come
along,” he said. “No use staring at the dead. They’re not much for
entertainment!” Again, the men let out a horrible laugh. Karl didn’t move. He
kept staring at the river of blood on the floor, astonished. Then, to Karl’s
surprise, Reginald put his hand on his shoulder.
Karl
turned around and looked wildly at Reginald.
Reginald tightened
his lips in a frown. “Make nothing of it, my lad,” he said. “We’ve got what we
came for. Let’s head back and start our journey before anyone else finds out
what’s happened here.” Karl stared into space, mouth agape, and shook his head.
“You are new to the ways of piracy,” said Reginald. “Bloodshed is part of our
tradition. Soon, you will come to understand that. Now come along.” He removed
his hand from Karl’s shoulder and picked up his sack full of bottles from the
floor and threw it over his shoulder. He and the rest of the men headed for the
exit. Karl stood motionless, glancing back and forth between Paco’s decapitated
body and Reginald, who stopped at the doorway and turned again to Karl. He
spoke, this time with threat in his voice. “I said, come on.” It seemed that
Karl didn’t have any choice in the matter. He followed Reginald and the rest of
the men out the door. As the men walked down the deserted road, they sang a
tune that made Karl’s stomach churn:
Tonight we sail for booty
With loads of rum in store.
The moon is red as blood and fire,
We could not ask for more!
As
Karl listened to these men sing their horrible song, he felt as if he were
being pulled in by an unrelenting rip tide. Could it really be that he was now
the prisoner of this wild crew of dastardly men? Originally, going on an
adventure with them had seemed like a very appealing prospect. It was
everything that he had ever dreamed of. Only, now that his dreams were coming
true, Karl had to ask himself, was it worth it? He again thought of Paco’s dead
body lying on the floor and the river of blood that flowed from his decapitated
neck. It seemed to him that before long the blood would spill over into the
street. Reginald’s crime confirmed what type of men these were. And it was
evident to him that there was no escaping. Whether he liked it or not, he would
be going to sea with the men of the Beacon. Whether he would return was a
question he couldn’t even begin to guess at.
Chapter
7: Sea Legs
As
soon as the men returned with their sacks full of alcohol, they began preparing
to set sail. Karl sat with Manny in the rowboat with Reginald and the other men
as they made their way to the Beacon. Still traumatized from Paco’s
decapitation, he listened as the pirates sang to the rhythm of their oars:
Now to sea, the time has come
To sail for gold and drink the rum!
Unfurl the sails and man the helm,
Tonight we take to the bracken realm!
The whistling winds will drive our course.
Soon the gold will fill our purse!
The whores are waiting across the sea,
Soon for them we’ll bring our seed!
Karl thought of Treasure Island, and how Jim Hawkins had
been held captive by Long John Silver. But this was no storybook he was living.
This was reality, and he could not escape the feeling that he was headed toward
his doom.
When they reached
the ship, a course was set for Donarath Island in the middle Pacific, home of
the ancient Pirate Hall of Records, where Reginald hoped to find news of what
happened to the Captain, his mistress, and the Treasure of Candoleen. That
night, as Karl lay on a wooden bunk in the officer’s quarters, he tried to
forget what had had happened in the liquor store, but the memory of it
persisted. “What have I gotten myself into?” he kept asking himself. “These men
will be the death of me, at the very least.” This recurring thought, in
combination with the undulation of the ship beneath him, made him sick to his
stomach. The men gave him a bucket to puke into, and before the night was over,
it was nearly filled to the brim. At about four in the morning, he gave up on
trying to sleep, and leaving Manny dozing on the floor beneath him, went to the
deck. There, he found Reginald standing alone, peering out into the darkness,
and smoking from his pipe.
“Ah,
Karl my good man!” said Reginald, awakening from his reverie. “Is the sea not
suiting your restful desires? Well, then. There will be plenty of time to
sleep. Come, join me here. Let us bask in the silence of the sea.”
“Reginald,”
said Karl, feeling the ship rocking beneath him and his stomach churning. “I’m
not sure I’m cut out for this. I’m an English teacher by trade. And, I mean,
what happened in the liquor store...”
“Ah,” said Reginald, cutting him off. “I
shall tell you a story. I myself came from a wealthy family. Well-educated up
to the age of twelve, I was. But my father, curse his soul, was a mean sort. A
regular monster, he was. If I did not complete my tasks in time, he would whip
me with his knotted cane. And every day I failed to finish my tasks, he’d whip
me five more strokes. One day I decided I’d had enough, and ran away. That’s
how I came to be a pirate. I started out a cabin boy, and the first couple of
months were a living hell. The behavior of the other pirates shocked me, no
less than ours has shocked you. But I knew that I had no other choice. I could
not go back to my father. So tell me, Karl, do you not feel that the adventure
in store for you might not be worth the struggle? Would you rather return to
your little shack, and spend your remaining years doing absolutely nothing? If
so, we shall turn around and bring you back. But I tell you, lad. You shall
have many a’ story to tell by the time all of this is through. And you may just
end up with a bit of treasure. Now, let us listen to the silence of the sea for
a moment, and then you tell me your decision.”
The
men were silent for a long time. Karl listened carefully to the unfamiliar
sound of the creaking ship as it slowly progressed through the undulating
waves. He stared up into the night sky where the stars shone, and felt the
gentle breeze upon his face. Karl thought of what Reginald had said about the
treasure. He hadn’t even considered the idea that he would be getting a portion
of it. It was true, these men were villainous in many ways, and the journey
would most likely be perilous. But he had always dreamt of finding a treasure,
and now this dream was on the verge of coming true. He thought of all the
things he could do with the treasure. Certainly at the very least he could pay
off his debts. He thought of his life back home. All of those adventure books
he had read—none of them seemed to compare to the adventure he was now
partaking in. The thought of going back to his books seemed almost ludicrous to
him now. He thought of Paco, who was probably still lying dead, decapitated in
his store. If he went back, he’d have to explain to the authorities what had
happened. Then, of course, a tedious legal battle would ensue. That seemed
hardly adventurous at all to Karl. No, any stakes he might have had in his old
life ended the moment the Beacon rose to the surface of the sea. Despite the
fact that he was actually a prisoner, despite the fact that the pirates were
cold-blooded murderers, he felt too invested in the adventure to turn back now.
He sighed.
“You’re right,” he
said. “My whole life I have been longing for a real adventure. This may be the
last chance I’ll ever get.”
“Ah!”
said Reginald, slapping him on the back. “You are already beginning to sound
like a seafarer. Now stay with me, and tell me about your life.”
The
rest of the night Karl walked around the ship with Reginald, telling him about
his struggles over the last five years, particularly with his son. Reginald was
a deep and thoughtful listener, and as Karl told him his story, he himself
began to make sense of his life in a way he never had before. Rather than
berating Karl for his behavior toward his son, Reginald was completely
supportive, and because of this, Karl began to feel even more at peace with the
decisions he had made. Yet, he also began to feel that perhaps change for the
better in his life was possible. All these years he had longed for an
adventure, but had failed to find the courage or the gumption to have one. But
now here he was, on a ship full of pirates, headed to find an ancient treasure
of immeasurable value. Perhaps, when the adventure was over, and if he survived
(which he still wasn’t sure he would), he would be able to start fresh and make
a real life for himself. As he walked around the ship with Reginald, he began
to feel more comfortable on his feet, so that, after a time, he could barely
notice the swaying of the sea beneath him at all. By the time the dawn had
come, Karl’s stomach had settled, and he could tell that he was beginning to
get his sea legs.
Chapter
8: A Magnet for Troubles
That
morning, after eating a light breakfast, Karl went back to sleep for a good
five hours. The sea was calm that morning, so he slept peacefully. When he
awoke, he went on deck and found the men hard at work. Up in the crow’s nest, Kaloo,
a large, burly African who, Karl had learned, had once been a slave in America,
stood watching the sea through a telescope. The other men were tying and
pulling the rigging, hammering nails into loose boards, working the udder, and
doing other sundry activities. Reginald, meanwhile, was standing in the middle
of the deck, barking orders. “Bolster the jib well, my boys! Secure the main
stay! At a rate of knots is the goal!” Seeing Karl, he greeted him with a
smile. “Ah! Karl! Are you well rested, my lad?”
Karl
nodded, smiling. Manny stood at his side, wagging his tail vigorously and
looking up at Reginald.
“I
see your dog there never leaves your side,” said Reginald. “That’s the way a
dog ought to be.”
“He’s
my greatest friend,” said Karl.
“Well,”
said Reginald as he turned to face the water. “The ocean is calm and the winds
are steady. The gods are shining down on us today, my friend!”
Karl
looked around. “Is there anything I could help with?” he asked.
“No,
lad!” said Reginald. “You enjoy the good weather. There’s a game of Spinning
Top going on over there if you’d like to join.”
Karl
looked. A table was set up near the quarter deck at the side of the boat, where
four men were seated with bottles of brandy. Another man was standing just near
it, watching the proceedings. They were playing a game with a spinning top, and
Karl went over to get a closer look. As he approached, the men were chugging
from the brandy bottles as the top spun on the table’s surface. Once the top
stopped spinning, the men stopped drinking. One of the men, Joe Connors–the ruddy
pirate with a graying wisp of a black beard—invited Karl over and explained the
rules of the game. They were as follows: the top was spun by an outsider—the Standing
Man—and the other four men were to chug as much brandy as possible during the
top’s spinning. This was repeated until all but one of the men had finished
their bottles. This man was then forced to finish his bottle, and do a
“laggard’s dance” for the other men. The game, as Karl began to watch, was
nearing its end. The loser of the game, a gaunt, sallow cheeked man with greasy
black hair named Phinaeus, stood up and began to dance as the other men banged
on the table and sang a song:
Dance the dance of the laggard fool,
Drunk on rum you’re bound to spew!
You have no grace or limber limbs
But drunk you are so spin spin spin!
Phinaeus danced like a crow
flapping its wings, bobbing his head forward and back, taking high steps in his
high black leather boots. After about a minute of this, the men laughed
heartily and cheered.
“Sit
down, now, Karl,” said Joe. “You have a go.”
So
Karl took the loser’s place, and four more brandy bottles were brought out.
“Let us go easy on the old man,” said one of the pirates—the fat man with the puffy
cheeks and gold rings in his ears.
“Why
should we?” asked a young, handsome pirate with flowing blonde hair. “His
gullet is just as wide as ours!”
The
others laughed.
“Do
as you like men, do as you like,” said Joe. “I’m sure the old man can take care
of himself.”
The
standing man placed the top on the table, holding the brass knob with his thumb
and forefinger, the nails of which were long and sharp, yellow and blackened.
He gave the top a twirl and the game began. Karl put the bottle to his lips and
drank. He immediately began to cough. The red liquor was strong. It burned his
throat, and he set the bottle down to regain his bearings. Looking at the other
men, he was amazed to see them gulping it down like it was water. He put the
bottle back to his lips and tried again, but he could only take a little at a
time.
The
top fell and the men stopped drinking. All the pirates slapped their hands on
the table with a crash. Karl saw that Joe had downed nearly a third of his
bottle already. “A rich blend, this!” said the fat pirate, wiping his mouth.
After a brief moment, the spinner put the top back on the table, and gave it
another spin. Again the men drank. After the second spin, Karl began to feel
woozy.
Joe
finished his bottle after three spins. It took three more after this before the
other men had finished their bottles. Karl had nearly half a bottle left.
“I’ll
tell you what,” said Joe, “You finish half of that, and we’ll let you do your
dance.”
The
other pirates agreed, and Karl began to plug away at his bottle. The pirates
cheered him on as he drank. “Learn to love the taste,” said the young blonde.
“Imagine
it’s the ambrosia of the gods,” said the fat man.
Karl,
reeling, finally managed to complete his task. He sat, practically swaying,
with his eyes half shut.
“Haha!”
laughed the fat pirate. “A true laggard, that!”
“Give
us a dance!” the cried.
Karl
got up, upsetting the table using it as a crutch to stand. He stumbled over to
the side of the ship, where he stood, his legs spread wide apart and his body
swaying forward and back with his hands on his hips. With a look of intense
concentration, he lifted his left leg, and began to stumble to his right.
“Whoa!” cried the pirates, getting halfway out of their seats as Karl bounded
drunkenly on his one unsteady leg. But the men sat back down when Karl stopped
himself, planting his right leg and clapping his hands in front of his crotch
as his two feet came together. He looked up at the pirates with a loopy smile,
then proceeded to lift his right leg. Again, he stumbled sideways, now to his
left, and again brought his legs together. Then, he did a little shimmy, and
again lifted his left leg. Only, this time he completely lost his balance and began
tottering backwards on his right leg. Before the Standing Man, who was near the
table, could reach him, and even before the rest of the pirates could get out
of their seats, Karl was falling over the side of the ship.
As he fell, in his
drunkenness, Karl had the odd sensation that he was perfectly at his leisure,
as if he were lying on his hammock back home beneath the sky. He closed his
eyes and drifted off. He woke a moment later, finding himself sinking in the
cold, azure Pacific, the water of which was already beginning to creep into his
lungs.
Panic
struck him, and he thrashed about wildly, but he could not get to the surface.
Images passed in front of his eyes—of Linda, of his son and his unknown
granddaughter, of Manny, and the mysterious Treasure of Candoleen. “Could this
really be the end?” he thought as the water began to fill his lungs. His eyes
were growing dark, and he felt his consciousness slipping away when, to his
surprise, something began pulling at him from beneath his armpit. Before he
realized, he was at the surface, coughing and panting for breath.
Joe
pulled Karl back toward the ship, where a rope was hanging down the side. They
began to climb. As Karl climbed, he shook his head as he thought of his
foolishness for playing a drinking game with a group of pirates, and once again
had the foreboding feeling that he might not make it home. When he climbed over
the railing, he fell onto the deck on his hands and knees, out of breath. Manny
approached him, and licked his face. Karl looked up and saw the men gathered
round him, their hands on their hips. "The ocean nearly swallowed you, ma'
lad!" said Reginald. "And you the ocean!"
“I
think we started you off a bit too quickly with the drinking, ma’ lad,” said Joe,
laughing. Karl felt woozy.
“By
the looks of him," said the handsome blonde, "I'd say we'll be
needing a bucket."
Karl,
barely making sense of these words, vomited onto the deck and passed out.
When
he awoke, he found himself in his bunk in the officer's quarters. The boat was
being tossed around violently, and seeing a bucket on the floor, Karl leaned
over and vomited into it. After this, he felt better. Manny was standing near
him, looking at him intently. “What’s happening, Manny?” Karl asked. Karl stood
up, struggling to keep his balance, and went out to the deck with Manny following
behind him. Once there, he saw that the ship was being ravaged by a vicious
storm. The men, who were yelling at each other from the top of their voices
over the sound of the wind and the waves, were hurryingly running about,
battening down the hatches and tethering the sails. The wind was so strong he
could barely get the momentum to walk forward across the deck, and the rain was
coming down by the bucket full. The sea itself was in a frenzy, and the waves
were plowing into the ship with such force it seemed at any moment they might
capsize.
Karl
spotted Reginald from across the deck. When Reginald saw him, he came running
over, struggling to keep his balance all the way. “Karl!” he said. “You must
get inside! You’re liable to drown if you stay out here!”
Just
then, as Karl was about to reply, he felt a strange sensation—a tingling on his
head, as if all his hair was standing straight upright. He heard a loud crack,
and a surge of electricity ran through his body. Amazed, he felt the burn on
top of his steaming head where the lightning had struck him, and also in his
foot where it had left him. Coming to his senses, he saw Reginald leaping and
hollering in front of him.
“By
Jesus!” cried Reginald. “By damn! You’re a regular magnet for troubles! Get
inside, my good man, before the very foot of God comes down and squashes you!”
Karl
turned around, slowly, and stumbled back to the cabin. Once there, he sat on
his bed, grabbed the bucket on the floor, and vomited into it. Manny sat right
in front of him, and after Karl puked a second time, the dog placed his paw on
top of Karl’s lap. “Don’t worry,” said Manny. “It’ll be alright.”
Had the dog really
just spoken? Could it be possible? Of
course it’s not possible, thought Karl. I’m
hallucinating because a bolt of lightning just passed through my brain.
Karl moaned and lay down on his bed, rolling himself into a ball. What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter
6: Ship Ho!
All that night the
storm tossed the ship about, and the crew was hard at work to make sure it
didn’t tip over. Karl only slept a couple of hours just after dawn, when the
skies had cleared and the ocean had calmed. When he awoke, he saw Manny sitting
by the side of his bed, looking at him and wagging his tail. “Good morning,” he
said. "Do you feel better Karl?”
Karl sat up and
couldn’t help but smile. “Indeed I do, Manny. Indeed I do.” Karl leant down and
let Manny lick his face. Perhaps having a talking dog wouldn’t be so bad after
all, he thought. He got up, feeling more alert and awake than he could remember
feeling in ages. He went onto the deck, where the men were working leisurely,
and saw that the sky was clear except for a few puffy clouds on the horizon.
The ocean was calm and the ship was so steady it seemed hardly to be moving at
all. All that day, Karl sat in a chair on deck and watched the men as they went
about their work. They sang songs with great gusto, laughing and making merry.
They especially enjoyed playing with Manny, who continued to offer words of
encouragement to Karl. Karl sat, basking in the sunlight and the warm ocean
breeze, thinking whimsical thoughts about Ishmael from Moby Dick, and Jim Hawkins from Treasure
Island. One pirate offered him a cigar, and for the first time in his life,
he found himself smoking. Imagine if
Linda could see me now, he thought, blowing out a long stream of smoke. As
he sat gazing at the sky, he began to feel a strange sensation. It was a
feeling he had not felt since his youth. It was a feeling of complete freedom,
and exhilaration. He smiled. “What do you say, Manny? Are we feeling like
pirates yet?”
Manny
laughed, his beautiful brown eyes glistening. “Argh!” he cried. “Indeed we are,
my good man! Indeed we are!”
At
about five o’clock that evening, the pirate in the crow’s nest called out to
the men on deck. “Ship on the horizon! To the southeast! Maybe three miles,
headed our way!”
“Tell
me more!” cried Reginald. “What sort of ship is it?”
“I
don’t know, sir,” said the pirate from the crow’s nest. “It’s white, and fairly
large, and looks to have no sail.”
“No
sail?” said Reginald. “Strange...” Reginald looked at Karl, who had gotten up
from his seat to look for the boat.
“It must be a
motor boat,” said Karl. Reginald looked at him quizzically, in search of an
explanation. Karl did his best to explain what a motor was, but to him his
explanation seemed hopelessly lacking, and it seemed to him that Reginald only
pretended to understand.
“Very
strange indeed,” said Reginald. “Well, we shall bear down upon her. Redirect
our course, men!”
Karl,
recognizing the potential for a repeat of what had happened at the liquor
store, became worried. “Reginald,” he said. “Please don’t do anything brash. You
can’t behave the way you did in the eighteenth century. Things have changed.”
“Don’t
worry, lad,” said Reginald. “We’re just going to give her a quick look-over and
be on our way.”
About
fifteen minutes passed before all the men aboard could make out the suspicious
craft. Karl, seeing that it was a yacht, made the announcement. He described it
to the befuddled pirates as “a luxury residential ship,” but they didn’t
understand. “Think of it,” he said, “as a mansion in a boat.” They still seemed
baffled. Within hailing distance, the pirates raised the hailing flag. As the
Beacon sidled up next to the yacht, three people—two men and a woman—came out
onto the deck. The younger of the two men, who looked to be in his mid thirties,
was dressed in pleated khakis, a turquoise polo shirt, and sunglasses. The
woman, also wearing sunglasses, seemed to be the younger man’s girlfriend, and was
dressed in a black skirt, a white halter-top, and a white sun hat. Both were
well groomed and extremely attractive. The young couple, holding cocktails,
smiled as the Beacon pulled up alongside them. The older man, who seemed to be
the captain of the ship, and was wearing a polished white uniform with gold
epaulettes on the shoulders, looked suspicious.
“Ahoy
there!” Reginald cried.
The
young couple looked at one another and laughed. Then, turning back to Reginald,
the young man cried out: “Ahoy! Is there some sort of reenactment going on?”
“Reenactment?”
said Reginald. “No my good man. No. No reenactment.
We are pirates in search of
booty."
The
young man laughed. “Booty! Hah! You are very good!” he cried. “You almost have
me completely fooled.”
Karl
saw Reginald frown, and his eyes become icy and sinister. He turned to his men
and spoke in a loud, booming voice. “Lads, let’s board her!”
When
the pirates began laid the planks out as bridges to cross over to the yacht,
the captain of the yacht slinked back into the ship—presumably, as Karl
thought, to radio for help. Reginald ordered several men to find the captain,
and he and the rest circled around the young couple As the pirates approached
them, the young couple’s nervousness was evident. They were, however, still
misunderstanding the situation. “So,” said the young man, “you are after booty?
Is that booty in Las Vegas, by chance?”
“Not in Las
Vegas,” said Reginald. “My guess is that there is quite a bit of booty on this
ship.”
The young man’s
face suddenly became very grim. He looked at his girlfriend, who was also
starting to sense that there was more to the situation than she had originally
thought. “What do you mean by that?” she asked.
“I think you know
exactly what I mean,” said Reginald. The rest of the men put their hands on the
hilts of their swords.
“Come on guys,”
said the young man, whose eyes darted nervously from man to man. “The game’s
over now. Let’s not get too caught up in this fantasy.”
Karl,
remaining on the Beacon with Manny, watched nervously, expecting something
horrible to happen. Several of the pirates then came out of the ship, holding
the captain captive by the arms. The young couple turned and watched with
horror as he was forced along the deck.
Manny,
who stood beside Karl, began nudging Karl’s leg with his snout. “Karl,” he
said. “You don’t want these people to die, do you? You must do something!”
“You’re
right,” said Karl. “Wait!” he cried to Reginald, crossing over the plank to the
yacht. “Please, Reginald. Don’t harm them.”
“I
won’t,” said Reginald, turning to the young couple and glaring at them
menacingly. “Just as long as they give us the booty.”
“I
don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the young man, practically shaking
in terror. “What booty?”
Reginald
turned to the men, smiling wryly, and they had a good laugh.
“What
booty,” he said. “That’s good.” He pulled out his long curved blade and put the
tip of it to the young man’s neck. “Tell me where it is, lad, and it’ll save
you some blood.”
The
young man was speechless.
“Perhaps
the captain knows,” said one of the pirates.
Reginald
gave the young man a twisted smile, and then turned to the captain with his
blade, which he held up to his neck. “Now, why don’t you be a good lad and tell
me where the booty is.
The
captain, amazed, was also speechless.
“Reginald,” said
Karl. “Please!”
Reginald glared at
the captain, who stood shaking from fear. “I will give you one last chance to
speak,” said Reginald. “Where is the booty?”
The captain
couldn’t speak. He just shook his head rapidly, half from terror and half from
a lack of understanding. “I...I...I...”
“He’s at a loss
for words!” cried Reginald, turning to his men and laughing. “Pity. Now he’s
going to lose his head.”
As Reginald swung
his sword, the captain’s face seemed to stretch itself in every direction. It
was the same expression he had seen on Pablo’s face after he had been decapitated.
Karl tried to cry out. But before a word could be formed on his tongue, the captain’s
head was rolling on the white wooden deck of the ship. The young woman
screamed. The other pirates drew their swords and fell upon her and her lover,
and killed them, laughing merrily as they plunged their swords into their
chests.
“Toss
‘em overboard!” cried Reginald. “And search the ship. There’s bound to be booty
here somewhere.”
Karl stood stunned
and speechless. He watched the men toss the bodies over the side of the ship
into the water, and stared long as they bobbed up and down in the waves,
turning the sea red. The men went into the yacht, and a moment later came out
carrying a collection of jewels, money and other valuables. Karl continued to
gaze at the bodies as they floated in the water.
“Come
on, lad,” said Reginald finally, putting his hand on Karl’s shoulder. “It’s
time to be off.”
Karl turned to
Reginald with wild, beseeching eyes. Reginald frowned.
“They were
scoundrels,” said Reginald. “No use mourning them.”
Karl
kept his gaze focused on Reginald. His mouth began to quiver.
“Say
a prayer if you must,” said Reginald. “But let’s be off.”
Reginald walked
away and Karl watched as the men carried their loot back aboard the Beacon.
They began singing, and Karl listened to their song, terror-stricken and in
disbelief:
The dead are dead and the living keep
living.
Save your tears for another day.
We have the booty so we shall keep singing
Until our bones are clay.
When the children come round
Looking for their mothers,
We will tell them this:
“We’ve worn them out,
They’re no use to you.
Now get along and play!”
The bodies were
still floating in the water, but they seemed more distant now, and less real to
Karl. Without knowing why, he finally turned and walked back onto the Beacon,
in a daze. The question of survival suddenly seemed less important to him than
before. He now wondered if he would be put in a situation where he himself
would be forced to take someone’s life, and he asked himself if it was even
worth living knowing you had done so. Certainly, it was for the pirates. Was it
possible that he could become like them? He remembered Reginald’s story, and
shuddered as he watched the men wiping the blood from their blades.
Chapter
7: A Map
After
ten days of sailing, the island of Donarath was in sight. As the ship weaved
its way through the tiny islands of the archipelago that sat like green teeth
in the gums of the ocean, the sun was just beginning to go down in the West. The
island was soon in sight, and Karl gazed with wonder at the great marble facade
of the library that was built into the side of the rocky green island. All
around perimeter of the island were little wooden huts, and the dock below the
library was filled with many sailboats, large and small. The Beacon was anchored
and the men, along with Karl and Manny, rowed themselves in.
Karl,
Manny, and the rest of the men got out of the boats and walked from the dock to
the long stairway that led to the main road. From there, they climbed another
flight of stairs to the library, which, as Karl was amazed to see, was actually
a large cavern carved into the side of the island. He gazed up in wonder at the
high entranceway, with its triangular pediment carved with images of dragons,
demons, and pirates doing battle with sabers, held aloft by huge marble
capitals which shone pink in the evening light. They walked into a huge domed
octagonal hall with marble floors. A pink beam of soft evening light poured
through the oculus of the dome, filling the room with an otherworldly ambiance
only heightened by the burning torches lining the eight columns that divided
the space. In the center of the floor was a large medallion—a bright red star
surrounded by a circle of blue—a symbol, perhaps, of the inextinguishable fire of
Truth—and the walls were covered with shelves nearly twenty feet high, all of
which were filled with books.
At the far end of
the hall, across from the entrance, was a huge desk, behind which stood an old
man with a long white beard. He was reading a huge book with a red velvet cover
and making notes on a piece of parchment as the men entered. As they
approached, the old man looked up from behind a pair of thick reading glasses with
friendly, clear blue eyes. Not surprisingly, he eyed the men with curiosity and
disbelief.
“Ahoy there!” cried
Reginald.
“Hello,” said the
man. His eyes darted around from man to man before coming back to focus on
Reginald. “Can I help you?”
“I
hope so, my good man. I hope so. We are looking for the whereabouts of the
Captain William Desperteaux and the Sorceress Envilisa, and the Treasure of Candoleen."
The
old man’s mouth suddenly dropped open, his face turned white, and his eyebrows
shot upward. “Are you the pirates of the Beacon?” he said softly.
“We
are indeed,” said Reginald, smiling and bowing slightly.
The
color of the man’s face turned from white to bright red. He began pulling at
his wild gray hair in a gesture of complete astonishment. “Unbelievable!” he
cried. “Absolutely unbelievable!” He looked at Reginald. “So the spell was
broken?”
“It
was,” said Reginald. “And here’s the culprit.” He gestured toward Karl.
The
old man smiled at Karl effusively, showing a row of small white teeth, then
turned back to Reginald. “It was the story of the Beacon that made me come to Donarath
in the first place!” he cried. “My mother used to read me accounts of your
famed voyage as a child!”
Reginald laughed.
“Well, now you get to meet us in person, my good man. So will you help us?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of
course,” said the old man. “The whereabouts of Captain Desperteaux and
Envilisa...”
“And the Treasure
of Candoleen,” said Joe Connors.
“Certainly,” said
the old man. “Certainly. I can help you. I know exactly where to look. Come
with me, gentlemen.”
The
old man led the Karl and the pirates to a shelf along one of the left hand
walls. He climbed up a ladder and pulled off a large black leather bound book, with
a silver star embroidered on the cover. He brought it to the desk, and opened
it. The men leaned in as he began flipping through the sheep skin pages.
“Ah,
here it is!” he cried, placing his finger on the page. He began to read: “In the year 1704, the Captain William Desperteaux
and his mistress, the Sorceress Envilisa, cast a spell upon the crew of the
Beacon on the California coast. They took the Treasure of Candoleen to the Island
of Dove’s Peak off the coast of Turkey, where they established the Candoleen
Resort. Well,” said the old man. “There’s your answer. And here is the
location of the island.” He pointed to a map on the opposite page.
The
old man placed the book in an old copy machine and printed out a copy of the
map. The pirates watched in astonishment as the machine did its work. He gave
the copy to Reginald, who thanked him heartily. “For your service,” said
Reginald as he handed the old man a string of pearls which he had stolen from
the yacht. Karl was beginning to get a sense of Reginald’s code of ethics: take
from those who can’t help you find the treasure, and give to those who can.
The
men left in high spirits. Karl gave one last look over the library, and followed
the pirates out. “You’ll never see something like this again,” said Manny.
Karl
nodded and followed the men down the steps, gazing up once more at the giant
marble capitals, and feeling as if he were a character in one of his beloved
adventure novels. The sun was just barely peeking out of the horizon as they
made their way down. “No way we’ll be able to navigate out of here now,” said
Reginald. “We’ll have to spend the night.”
Karl was surprised
when the men cheered. “Why are they so happy?” he asked Reginald.
“Because
we get to stay at the Vixen,” was the reply.
Chapter
9: A Brothel
As
the men walked down the road past the various huts, outside of which people
were now gathered around fires, cooking fish and drinking, they talked about
their past exploits at the Vixen. Some of it was quite shocking.
“Do
you remember that one girl?" said the fat pirate. "Mariella?
Marigold? She was young and had bright red curls...Anyway, she used to carry
around this little dog—a Papillion I believe it was. She was always putting on
aristocratic airs. Well, one night I was giving her a go, and the little dog
starts nipping at my balls. So I stand up and swing the little bastard out the
window! Mariella screams, 'My dog! You brute! You'll pay for that!' So I laugh
and give her such a pounding that by the end of it, she was wanting to pay me!
Hahaha!"
“It’s
too bad she won’t be there now," said Joe. "None of ‘em will.”
“Don’t
worry,” said Reginald. “I’m sure the new crop is just as good as the old.
Unless you’d prefer to get your lovin’ in the graveyard! Hahaha!”
As
the men laughed at Reginald’s joke, Karl considered his situation. “You aren’t
actually considering paying for a woman, are you Karl?” Manny asked. Karl
hadn’t been with a woman since his wife died, and before that, it had been
nearly forty years since he had been with a woman other than his wife. The idea
both excited and frightened him.
After
walking about five to ten minutes, they finally arrived at their destination.
The Vixen was an old two-story wooden bungalow with a patio set on the second
floor. It was set in front of a rocky hill about a half-mile down from the
library. The wooden signpost in the yard near the street displayed a naked
woman with red hair, winking at the viewer seductively. A large group of people
was seated on the patio—gruff looking men and voluptuous women in short
skirts—drinking and smoking, talking and laughing. Everyone turned to watch the
group of pirates as they entered the establishment. Karl caught the eye of a
beautiful red haired girl—much like the one on the sign—seated on the lap of a
grubby looking man. She smiled at Karl, and blushing, he looked away.
Because of the
large group, some of the men had to wait outside in the yard at a group of
wooden tables, where they proceeded to play a game of poker using the cash they
had plundered from the yacht. Karl, Reginald, and the rest of the pirates went
inside to get drinks. Inside, there was an old wooden bar against the far wall and
long wooden tables lining the floor. On the walls were sabers, muskets, maps,
gems, and other objects dating back to the very earliest pirates. A busty
raven-haired woman was serving beer to a group of rowdy African pirates seated
around a long table. Several women were with them, perched atop their laps and
drinking. The Africans were silent as they watched Karl, Reginald, and the
other men enter. Passing by them, Karl was surprised to see Uzi machine guns
strewn across the table next to their glasses of beer and ashtrays. He felt his
blood run cold as he considered the awful possibilities.
One
of the men at the table, who had his arm around a scantily clad young girl no
older than sixteen, spoke as the men of the Beacon walked by. “Check it out,”
he said to his comrades. “Pirates of the Caribbean.” The other men laughed.
Reginald
stopped and turned to the man. “Interesting musket,” he said, looking at the
Uzi on the table and grabbing the hilt of his sword. “I wonder if it fires off
as quick as your mouth.”
Karl
ran over to Reginald quickly and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Reginald,” he
said. “I need to talk to you.”
“About
what, lad?”
Karl
led him away from the group of men at the table, and spoke softly, so as not to
entice them. “Those are machine guns,” he said. “Just one of them is enough to
blow us all away.”
“Hmm,”
said Reginald, grabbing his beard. “I see. Don’t worry, lad. We won’t do
anything brash.”
Reginald
and the rest of the men went to the bar and ordered pints of beer from the
barkeep, a short, rotund bold man with pale skin and a bull-neck, then sat down
at the table across from that of the other pirates. Karl sat across from
Reginald, and as they began drinking, he could see that Reginald was still
stewing over the other pirate’s insult. His shoulders were tensed as he leaned
over his beer mug, and his brow was furrowed in an expression of exasperation
as his one eye was fixed on a point in space over Karl’s shoulder. Reginald took
a drink and set down his mug, tapping his fingers on the table nervously,
thinking. Then, as if making up his mind, he turned to the man next to him and began
whispering into his ear. Karl knew immediately that trouble was brewing. The
man next to Reginald then whispered into the ear of the man next to him, and on
and on. Karl looked at Reginald and shook his head, his face importunate.
Reginald just smiled at him wryly. About a minute later, Reginald counted to
three, and before the pirates at the other table could even look up, the men of
the Beacon pounced upon them with their sabers. In a flash, throats were cut
and blood filled the hall. Karl ducked beneath the table, along with Manny, who
whined piteously. “What’s going on?” Manny asked.
“Stupidity,”
said Karl.
Machine
gun shots were fired, and there were screams. The sound of someone gagging was
heard, and then silence. Karl waited fearfully, closing his eyes, expecting
death at any moment. Then he heard the sound of loud cheers.
“It’s
alright Karl!” said Reginald. “The bastards never knew what hit ‘em!” Karl opened his eyes and looked up from
beneath the table. The men of the Beacon stood wiping the blood from their
blades.
Karl
and Manny came out from underneath the table and looked around. The women stood
against the wall looking upon the carnage in terror. Two men of the Beacon lay
on the floor, dead, and all of the African pirates were slaughtered. Karl
stared at Reginald, who just smiled and patted his shoulder. “Thanks for the
warning,” he said. “But no pirate takes an insult well. These bastards should either
have been friendlier, or more ready to do battle.”
Karl looked at the
dead men on the floor and shook his head in disbelief. Despite the fact that
these were pirates and not regular civilians, the sight of so much death jarred
him, and again he felt the portent of his impending doom. “This journey will be
the end of me,” he thought. “What can I do? I have no authority over these men.
They are like a wildfire out of control. It’s going to take all of my vigilance
to make sure I myself am not consumed.” And he watched as the men of the Beacon
pulled the bodies out of the building at Reginald’s orders, and tossed off the
side of the island into the sea.
After seeing their
capabilities, Reginald also ordered the men outside to bring the machine guns
of their vanquished foes to the Beacon. “These might come in handy later,” he
said, picking up one of the Uzis off a dead man. After the guns were taken
away, Reginald turned to the barkeep, who stood cleaning out a glass pitcher
with a towel and barely looked surprised at all by what had happened.
“Barkeep!” cried
Reginald. “These women shall be ours for the night!”
The
men of the Beacon, leering, approached the women, who still stood stunned
against the wall, and gave them their sly greetings. It took a while, but the
women, as it seemed to Karl, eventually took to—and were even enchanted by—the
pirates’ old-fashioned gruffness. Karl, with Manny, sat alone in the corner,
watching. He was not too thrilled with what he saw, and when he looked at
Manny, the dog did not seem pleased either by the debauchery. “Do you believe
this, Karl?” he said. “No dog I’ve ever known has acted with such perversity.”
Reginald,
with a giddy smile on his face, approached Karl with a woman on each arm. “Why d’
ya’ sit here lad, ignoring the fun?” he said. “Come. This is Yvette.” He pushed
forward the woman on his left, a buxom red-hair woman with pale skin, rosy
cheeks, and dark, luminous eyes. It was the same woman Karl had noticed while
walking into the Vixen.
“Hello
there, Karl,” she said in a smoky voice. “Reginald has told me so much about
you. Mind if I pull up a chair?”
Karl
glared at Reginald, who smiled, turned, and walked away with the other woman on
his arm. Yvette pulled up a chair and sat down next to Karl. “Is this your
dog?” she asked, petting Manny.
“That’s
Manny,” said Karl.
“Manny!
Aren’t you beautiful!” She rubbed his shaggy neck. “So Karl,” she said, looking
up at him with her soft, seemingly innocent eyes. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure,” said Karl,
feeling himself blush.
“You know, I
spotted you when you were walking in.”
A lump began to
form in Karl’s throat. He swallowed. “I know. I spotted you, too.”
“Well,” continued
Yvette. “You want to know what I thought when I was looking at you?”
Feeling the lump
growing bigger, he nodded.
“I thought to
myself, there’s a kind, lonely soul who’s in need of a bit of love. Do you
know,” she said in a whisper, “there are some men that come in here who I can
barely stand to give away my services to. They’re brutes, mostly.” She put her
hand on Karl’s leg. “Do you mind?”
Karl shook his
head.
“But for you,” she
continued, “I’d gladly give myself away for free.” She put her finger to her
lips and smiled. “Shh,” she said. “Don’t tell anyone, OK?” Then she winked, and
Karl felt himself go weak.
“I’ll
tell you what,” she went on. “We can go upstairs and hang out if you like.
There’s a very good bottle of chardonnay in my bedroom, and two glasses. I’ve
been saving it for a special occasion. I think tonight is the night. What do
you say?”
Karl
looked at her smiling face. Her full lips were parted in a smile, and her dark
eyes glistened. She leaned forward and increased the pressure of her hand on
Karl’s thigh.
“Because,”
she said, in a low sultry whisper, “I like you, and...I want you.” She
laughed—a sweet, girlish laugh. “So what do you say?”
Karl
glanced briefly down at her crossed thighs, which were milky white and
muscular, then back up at her face.
“I
suppose I can have a drink with you,” he said, hardly believing the words were
coming out of his mouth, and amazed by the depth and gravity of his own voice.
“Good,"
she said. "Follow me.”
Yvette
rose, and Karl, telling Manny to stay, followed her. They went upstairs, Karl
watching her hips sway as he walked behind her. “What am I doing?” he thought.
“Is this really happening? I’m old enough to be her father! And yet, she is so
beautiful...” Yvette lead Karl into a small, quaint bedroom, dimly lit by a
green and red Tiffany lamp on the nightstand. The bed, which Karl thought looked
inviting, was made with a red knitted blanket and a large white pillow. There
was a small wooden desk with a high backed chair, a dresser, a cabinet, and a
little window beside the bed. “You can sit on the bed, if you like,” said
Yvette. Karl sat down. She went to the cabinet, opened it and pulled out a bottle
of wine and two glasses, then sat down in the high backed chair and poured the
wine. She handed one glass to Karl, and held up her own glass in the dim light
of the lamp. “Here’s to you and your adventures, Karl,” she said. They clinked
glasses and drank. The wine was warm and sweet, and Karl’s heart seemed to
blossom like a flower when he drank it. He looked at the glass in amazement.
“This
is delicious,” he said.
“I
know,” said Yvette.
Yvette, who was
wearing a short black skirt, had her legs crossed, and she was rubbing her
forefinger back and forth down her thigh. “Do you like me, Karl?” she asked.
Karl
took another drink of wine. It barely went down because of the lump in his
throat. He nodded.
“Good,”
said Yvette.
She set her glass
down, got up, and straddled Karl on the bed. Karl put the half-empty glass down
on the nightstand, and looked up at Yvette’s glowing face, which smiled down at
him with warm, lusty sultriness.
“Are you ready for
me?” she asked in a smoky whisper.
Karl nodded again.
Yvette bent down
and began to kiss him, and Karl lay back, letting himself get carried away by
his desire.
Chapter
10: An Ailment
Karl
awoke the next morning with the light from the little window shining on his
face. Looking down, he saw the curly locks of Yvette’s auburn hair glistening.
Her head was resting on his chest as she slept. He could feel her breasts
nestled against the side of his body, and her arm, which was draped over his
stomach, felt warm. He carefully moved himself out from underneath her so as
not to wake her, put his feet on the floor and reached his arms straight up
over his head with a yawn. He looked down at her as she slept. Her skin looked
like smooth marble in the morning light. He bent down and kissed her on the
head, then rose and collected his things. After he was dressed, he took out a
pair of diamond earrings from his pant pocket (a souvenir Reginald had given
him from the yacht), and placed them on the dresser. He took one more satisfied
look at her, then left the room and went downstairs. There he found the rest of
the men sitting at a table with some of the women, drinking beer and smoking.
“Here
he is!” cried Reginald.
“He
looks like a new man!” said Joe.
Manny
stood up from his place beside Reginald, and with wagging tail and extended
tongue, approached his master. “You still love me best, don’t you Karl?” he
said, and Karl patted his head.
Karl
pulled up a chair. “Would you like a drink?” asked the barkeep, who stood
behind the bar, his round stomach bulging in his green apron, washing a mug
with a wet rag.
“Sure,”
said Karl, smiling bashfully. “Pour me a beer.”
The
pirates laughed and banged their fists on the table in delight, and Reginald
slapped Karl on the back. “Feeling a bit looser this morning, are we?”
Spread
out on the table, with empty steins at each corner, was the map to the Island
of Dove’s Peak. Using a compass, Reginald charted the course from Donarath,
explaining to the men the route they would take. “We’ll sail south to the
Strait of Magellan," he said. "It should be at least three weeks
before we reach the Atlantic.” As Karl sat listening to the men, he suddenly
had the most uncomfortable sensation in his genital region. The itch was
unbearable.
“What
is it?” said Reginald, looking up at Karl, who was scratching violently at
himself with both hands.
“I have this itch in my crotch,” said
Karl, gritting his teeth.
“Oooooh!”
cried Joe, leaning across the table in a gesture of ironical surprise.
“Did
you sleep with Yvette?” asked the bar keep.
Karl
looked up, his eyes wide with foreboding. His expression was so comical that
the rest of the men burst out laughing.
“Damn
it!” cried the barkeep. “I told her to wash up good! It’s the crabs, I bet.”
Karl
put his head onto the table, balled up his fist, and moaned.
“No
worries, lad,” said Reginald. “We’ll get it taken care of.” He turned to the
barkeep. “Have you any Stinging Cream?”
The
barkeep nodded, went to the cabinet above the bar, and began rummaging around.
“Well,”
said Reginald, turning to Karl. “All you must do is shave off your pubic hairs
and apply the cream. You can use my blade if you like.”
Karl
looked up at Reginald and glared at him sullenly.
“Do
you need some help?” asked Reginald, smiling. The others burst out laughing.
Karl
took the bar keep’s razor and a jar of Stinging Cream and went into the
downstairs bathroom. When he was done shaving off his pubic hair, he looked
down at his crotch and saw the little red crabs scurrying about. Cringing, he
opened the jar of cream, took a dab with his hand, and applied it. He let out
such a loud scream that everyone in the house heard him. By the time he was
done applying the cream, Karl was so angry he had the thought of going back
upstairs to take the earrings he had left for Yvette, along with the rest of
her bottle of wine. But finally, after the pain had subsided a bit, he decided
that her sweetness towards him, and last night’s pleasures, more than made up
for the morning’s pains.
Reginald
and the pirates finished their drinks and paid the barkeep for his services. As
they left, drunk and in good humor, they sang a song:
Well oh well, the women, they love us.
We are lords of the cherry-bust!
We make them sing and we make them shout,
Ho ho ho! We’re merry louts!
But now we must go and leave them behind
To sail for gold ‘cross the ancient brine!
And when we return, we’ll be rich as kings.
To them our staffs of gold we’ll bring!
As
Karl listened to their song, and remembered the pleasures of the night before,
he felt a stirring in his heart, and it seemed to him that all of his wildest
fantasies were coming true. The day was clear and the sun was shining bright.
His limbs moved lithely and vigorously as he walked along. As the warm ocean
breeze caressed his smiling face, his mind reeled with the possibilities of
what might lie in store for him next.
Chapter
11: A Contest
Before
leaving Donarath, the men stopped off at a supply store to load up on food and
rum, the latter of which, to Karl's observation, the pirates seemed to consume
at a rate much faster than food. They boarded just around ten o’clock. The men
were drunk, but not so drunk that they couldn’t carry out their duties. Karl,
after his time on Donarath and his night with Yvette, began to notice a change
in his thinking about the whole experience with the men of the Beacon. He no
longer felt like he was a prisoner. Instead, he was beginning to see these
wayward souls as his companions, and he was genuinely excited for the
possibilities of what the rest of the adventure might have in store. When they
got on board, Karl gave the men a crash course on how to use the machine guns
they had acquired. The glee with which the pirates played with their new toys
reminded Karl of children at play on Christmas morning. He had to yell at them
to remind them to conserve ammunition, though he hoped to God they wouldn’t
have to use it.
After stocking the
guns and their new supplies in the ship’s hold, they prepared to set sail. The
plan was to head back southeast, and sail through the Strait of Magellan before
heading North to the coast of Turkey. It would be a long journey, and Karl,
realizing how lucky they had been so far not have run into any coastal
authorities, was worried about this prospect. When he expressed his worries to
Reginald, Reginald did not seem too concerned. “Ah lad," he said.
"You sound like land-lover. We shall deal with whatever comes, whether it
be storm, sea kraken, or sea police.” Karl, realizing there was no use arguing,
kept the better part of his worries to himself.
On
the second night after leaving Donarath, the men gathered in the captain’s
quarters for a bout of drinking. Karl, along with Manny, sat listening to the
men as they talked. Joe was bragging about how he had manhandled several of the
pirates on his own in the bar on Donarath. He rolled up his sleeve and flexed
his biceps. “I am the strongest man I know,” he said. “I would challenge any
man to try and beat me!”
Kaloo, hearing
this, perked up.
“You
think you are strong?” he said. “You cannot beat Kaloo. Kaloo is the strongest
man there is.”
“Ah,”
said Reginald. “Strong words with no action to back them are like the rum I’ll
be pissing later. What we need is a contest!”
Karl
watched as the men rose from the table, and Kaloo and Joe sat across from one
another and rolled up their sleeves. Bets were taken, and the two men put their
elbows on the table and locked hands. They sat staring at one another, Kaloo
expressionless, Joe with a sly smile on his face. Reginald held their locked
hands with his own to balance them. “Alright men,” he said. “Time to settle the
score.” He counted backwards from three and removed his hands from Joe and Kaloo’s
fists, and the contest began.
Joe,
with his initial push, got the advantage, but Kaloo would not go down much
further than an inch. Joe’s face, which was already dark, was now even darker,
and his teeth were clenched and showing. Kaloo, whose face had been
expressionless at the start, now seemed to be working his mouth into a mocking
smile. Their arms were bulging. Kaloo’s massive arm was like stone, and a big
vein was popping out of his bicep. Joe’s sinewy arm seemed to possess an
inordinate amount of muscles, all working in perfect harmony. Joe’s wrist began
to turn downward as he tried to force Kaloo’s arm onto to the table. But Kaloo
wouldn’t budge. With a grunt, Kaloo forced his way over the top, and his
breathing became intense, his nostrils flaring, his eyes bulging, so that he
seemed to Karl like a freight train. He worked Joe’s arm down toward the table,
and Joe, seemingly in disbelief, darted his eyes back and forth between Kaloo’s
hand and his face, which was dead-set on the goal. Finally, with one final
grunt, Kaloo forced Joe’s hand down, and the pirates, who had been cheering the
men on all the while, let out their exclamations of joy and disappointment.
Kaloo
stood up tall on his strong legs and looked down at his vanquished foe,
smiling. “Now you know who is the strongest,” he said.
The
men began to mutter their concurrences on the matter and drink to Kaloo, when
from out of nowhere, they heard the sound of Karl’s voice.
“Wait,”
he said.
The men turned and looked at him as he
stood in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest. “Let me have a go.”
The
men looked at each other and laughed in disbelief. “You want to challenge Kaloo?”
said Reginald, astonished.
Karl
nodded. He looked at Kaloo, who smiled proudly at him. Karl smiled right back,
and nodded his head. Kaloo sat back down and Karl went over and took a seat
across from him. There was a collective gasp as Karl rolled up his sleeve. To
the pirates’ amazement, Karl revealed a massive, sinewy forearm—undoubtedly the
forearm of an athlete.
“The
old man’s as strong as a bulwark!” cried one of the pirates. Karl looked into Kaloo’s
eyes. There was the same proud smile on his face as before. Kaloo put his elbow
on the table and held up his massive hand. Karl did the same, and the two men
locked their grips. Again, Reginald placed his hands over the two competitors'
fists. “Alright boys," he said. "Now let's see what kind of fight is
in this old dog." He counted backward from three, and the contest was
under way.
Karl
exerted himself fully against Kaloo’s arm, and felt his strength like a brick
wall against his own. And yet, despite the fact that Kaloo’s arm wouldn’t
budge, Karl couldn’t help but notice that his own arm was not going down either.
He wondered if Kaloo was going easy on him, and looked at his face. But it
showed intense exertion. So far, it was a stalemate. Karl, using his strong
forearm muscles, began to turn his wrist and Kaloo’s arm began to fall. The
pirates were in an uproar. They couldn’t believe their eyes. “Look at those
forearms!” cried the handsome blonde. “No sailor I’ve ever seen had forearms
like that!” Karl had Kaloo halfway beat, but the African wasn’t going to go
down without a fight. He rallied and managed to get the upper hand. Karl heard
Manny talking to him from beside him. “Come on, Karl!” he said. “Give it your
all!” But Kaloo continued to force his arm down, till it was nearly flat on the
table. Nearly beat, Karl let out a loud yell, his face contorting into a mass
of countless lines and creases, and his whole body, which had been bright red
before, turned an even brighter shade. He re-gripped his fingers, and slowly,
as if with extreme pain, lifted Kaloo’s massive arm back up. Kaloo, who had
thought he had the old man beat, now looked to be in shock. Karl forced his way
over the top, and slowly, still as if with a great deal of pain, managed to force
Kaloo’s arm down. Kaloo let out loud groan. His eyes showed disbelief. With one
final push, Karl managed to bring the great African's arm down on the table.
When he won, the pirates hollered and jumped up and down, even those that had
bet against him. Karl sat back in his chair, exhausted. Reginald came over and
put his arm around him, jostling him. “Well I’ll be damned!” he cried. “Now I
know who to turn to if I’m ever in trouble! Here,” he said, grabbing a bottle
of rum and pouring a glass. “Have a drink, lad. You’ve earned it!”
Chapter
11: Peter
On
the sixth night of sailing a huge storm blew in from the West and knocked the
ship off course. The men, in their desperation, landed the Beacon on a small
deserted island about three hundred miles to the Northeast of French Polynesia.
They moored the ship to a large rock on the coast, and settled in for the night
to wait out the storm.
The
next morning, they went ashore and made camp on the beach to eat breakfast. It
was a beautiful white-sand beach, and some of the men went collecting coconuts
from the palms that lined the thick forest that filled the interior of the
island. Karl sat with Manny on the beach a ways off from the rest of the men,
staring out at the ocean. As he sat, dreaming about Yvette and her beautiful
marble-white skin, a whiff of something caught his nose. It smelled like fish
cooking. He looked down the beach at the other men. They were cooking
beef-steaks. So where could it be coming from? He stood up, and followed his
nose to the edge of the forest.
“Where
are you going?” asked Manny.
“I’m
just going to check it out,” Karl replied. Manny followed as Karl began to make
his way through the forest. The smell of cooking fish was growing stronger. As
he clamored through the thick brush, smoke became visible, and he heard a most
strange and unsettling sound. It was the sound of singing—a quiet, cheerful
singing in a high, gravely voice. Then, as he came upon a clearing, he saw a
sight that took him aback both for its allusive power and its complete
improbability. A small old man with wild gray hair and a long white beard was
crouching beside a campfire, roasting a silver fish impaled on a stick. He was
barefoot, and wore dark corduroys that had been torn away at the knees,
exposing legs that were thin, wiry, and sunburned. He wore a red cotton tee
shirt full of holes and a bucket hat, which had probably once been white and
was now a dark shade of gray. He was singing a song whose melody sounded
familiar, but whose words seemed odd and erratic. The man suddenly looked up
and spotted Karl with wild black eyes. He stopped singing, his mouth falling
agape in stupefied wonder, and quickly rose to a standing position. Scratching
his belly with his free hand, he gazed at Karl for a moment. Then, slowly, his
mouth worked itself into a wide friendly smile, revealing a heavily gapped set
of brown and yellow teeth. He quickly lifted his arm in a greeting.
Karl,
bewildered, hesitated, and began to turn away.
“Wait!”
cried the old man. “Don’t go!” He dropped the stick he was holding onto the
ground, with the half-cooked fish lying in the dirt, and ran up to Karl. Karl
stopped, and the old man came right up close to him, still smiling his
gap-toothed smile. There was a pungent odor of stale sweat about his body, and
his breath was ten times as bad. Gnats swarmed about his head. “I’m Peter,” he
said, holding out his dirt-stained hand, the nails of which were long and
yellow.
Karl,
after a moment of hesitation, took his hand with the kind of guilty reluctance
and disgust a man feels upon touching something repulsive. His hand was rough
and dry—the hand, Karl thought, of a rotting corpse. “Karl,” he said.
“Are
you part of the rescue party?” Peter asked, a hopeful gleam in his eye. Karl
wished he would step back a couple steps so he could catch his breath.
“No,”
said Karl, “I...” It occurred to him that to tell this man the truth about why
he was here would be utterly ridiculous, and far too complicated. So instead he
said he was here sailing with friends.
“Oh,
I see. I see,” said Peter, nodding his head. “Could you take me aboard, by
chance? You could drop me off at the nearest port. I won’t cause any problems.”
He smiled again. There was something not quite right about this man. He had a
look of almost clinical insanity in his eye. Karl thought he must have been
here alone for a very long time.
“I
don’t see why not,” he said. “Only, you should know, my friends are a
little...” He was going to say “odd,” but looking at Peter, he thought this
would be superfluous at best.
“No
worries, my friend!” said Peter. “I can get along with anyone. You’ll see!”
As
Karl led him out of the forest, the man explained that he was a fisherman who
had been vacationing on a nearby island and had gone out on his boat one evening
when he had got caught in a storm. His boat was lost and he’d been left
stranded on this deserted island for, what he estimated, nearly ten years. The
poor man had suffered much, indeed, which was apparent not only from his
haggard look but also by his lilting walk. Karl led him to where the other men
were camped, and when the pirates saw them approaching, they stood and gazed in
awestruck wonder at the old man. Karl introduced Peter, explaining his
situation, and the pirates welcomed him warmly. The man, oddly enough, did not
seem at all befuddled by the appearance of the pirates. Perhaps, after ten
years alone on the island, he had lost all sense of the absurd. That, or he was
just too anxious to get off the island to concern himself with the idiosyncrasies
of those who would take him.
After
they had had their fill of food and drink, the men packed up their things and
went back aboard. It was decided that the old man would be dropped off at the
Southern tip of South America, which was about a five day’s journey. The old
man thanked Karl and Reginald heartily, and went to the cabin for a long sleep.
“Strange
old man,” said Reginald to Karl after Peter had left. “He’s got a rather
cockeyed look, I do say.”
Karl
agreed. Actually, based on both his appearance and his bearing, he thought the
old man would fit in quite nicely with this group of wild men.
Peter served as
great entertainment for the men of the Beacon. He was full of good humor, and
when he was drunk (which was basically all the time) he would tell incredible
tales of his experiences on the island. For instance, he talked about the time
he had broken both his wrists in a fall, and had nearly starved to death from
his inability to hunt or fish because of it. “All I had for two weeks was
shrubs and berries,” he said, “which I ate straight from the ground and the
trees with my mouth like an animal. I couldn’t even make a fire. It wasn’t till
I was close to death that my injuries were healed, and by that time, I barely
had the strength to lift a spear let alone throw one. It’s a miracle I didn’t
die.” He also talked about his time spent as a fisherman. Apparently, he had
been after a rare breed of tuna when he was stranded on the island. He had made
a bet with his friend, who denied its existence, that he would find it, and
claimed that he had seen one from the side of his boat before the storm hit.
Despite his good humor, he could be rather volatile, even when compared with
the pirates. During a game of poker one night he attacked one of them, and was nearly
killed. Only through Karl’s persuasion was he spared. Most of the time he slept
in his bed in the officer’s quarters, or in a chair on deck, where he would
drift off while smoking.
One
night, while drinking with Peter and some of the other men on deck, several of
the pirates brought out musical instruments. Joe played a fiddle—rather
adeptly, Karl thought, with his lithe, sinewy arm; Phinaeus played a flute; and
Kaloo a tom-tom. Peter, drunk, got up from his seat and began to dance. He was
a very nimble dancer, and Karl found him enchanting to watch. The men clapped
their hands and cheered the old man on. Even Manny seemed captivated by him.
“Now
watch this!” cried Peter, and he fell forward into a handstand, and began
walking about on his hands. All the pirates were amused. Then, Karl noticed
something fall out of Peter’s pocket. The other men noticed it too. When Peter
stood up from his handstand, Reginald went over and picked the objects up and
inspected them. “What’s this?” he cried. He held up in his hands two diamond
pendants, objects which the men had taken from the yacht. “Where did you get
these?” he said, turning to Peter. Peter, his eyes wide with terror, began to
back away and mutter something, first inaudibly, then audibly, to Reginald.
“I
found those, um...on the floor in the cabin. Honestly, I...”
Reginald
grabbed him by the shirt. “Well,” he said. “It looks like we have a common thief
on board. Lads, tie him up.”
The
pirates bound Peter in two short ropes, one for his hands, the other for his
legs. Karl, greatly perturbed, approached Reginald. “Reginald, what are you
going to do?” he asked.
“He’s
a thief,” said Reginald. “Therefore, he’s got to pay the thief’s price.”
The
men led Peter, who shuffled along awkwardly on his tied legs, to the plank on
the edge of the ship. “Reginald,” said Karl. “There must be another way. Can’t
we just leave him somewhere? Maroon him?”
Reginald
smiled warmly. “I see,” he said. “You feel for the old man, and don’t want to
see him die. Well,” he placed his hand on his shoulder. “Pirates have laws too,
my lad. They may seem barbaric to you, but it’s the way we survive. Without our
laws, we cease to be men. Don’t you worry,” he said. “The Lord above knows
what’s best, and Peter’s soul will go to the place it needs to go.”
Karl
was on the verge of saying something more, but he knew that there was no sense
arguing. Besides, he was beginning to get used to the reality of the senseless
death that was taking place around him. He reassured himself by telling himself
that it was nothing he could control, and that he himself was not perpetrating
any crime. Yet, he still felt guilty. He went and grabbed a bottle of rum to
numb his guilt, and watched the proceedings from a distance.
The
men were gathered around Peter, who stood in front of the plank facing the men,
his eyes down in abject sorrow. “Have you any last words before you take the
plunge?” asked Reginald, who stood at the head of the men.
Peter
looked up boldly at the men. “I only meant to do right in this life,” he said,
his voice cracking. “But alas, the Lord cursed me. I blame him for this
travesty. Not you, my good men!”
And
with that Joe pulled out his saber and pointed it at the unfortunate man. He
scooted along slowly down the length of the plank, Joe following with his saber
from behind. With a deep sigh that all of the men heard, Peter fell into the
water. As his head bobbed up and down, the pirates laughed and sang:
Bubble, bubble, scrub-a-dub-dub,
Doesn’t that bath feel nice?
Wash your arms and kick your legs
And say goodbye to ol’ daylight.
Davy Jones’ Locker is opening wide,
Your prayers are met with the salty brine.
Try to remember why you’re here,
You stole from the pirates something dear.
Doesn't that bath feel nice?
Karl stood
listening to this song on the other side of the ship, drinking his bottle of
rum and feeling very depressed. Manny was sidled up next to him. “I don’t like
this,” he said to Karl. “These men are cruel.”
Karl did not
respond. Indeed the men were cruel. And yet there was something very appealing
about Reginald and the rest of the pirates. Their vitality, their lust for
life, almost seemed to redeem their cruelty in Karl's eyes. As he stood
listening to their song, he began to ask himself just how far Reginald and the
pirates would be willing to go for him, and how far he'd be willing to go for
them. He knew he was more than just a pawn in Reginald's quest for the
treasure, but he wondered, should Reginald be faced with the choice, would he be
willing to sacrifice Karl's life for the treasure? Deep down, he already knew
the answer.
Chapter
12: War
The next day,
Reginald presented Karl with a gold-hilted saber and a leather belt with a scabbard.
“What’s this for?” asked Karl.
“It’s for your own
protection,” said Reginald. “You never know what danger you might find yourself
in. Now you need to learn to use it, my lad.”
Karl smiled. “I
already know how.” He took the blade out of the scabbard and thrust it out
toward the horizon. He swung it about with skill, light as a feather on his
feet, causing the air to sing around the blade. “I studied swordsmanship in my
youth,” he said. “I was a national champion at one point.”
All that day Karl
gave lessons to the pirates, teaching them various maneuvers. It was good to
have a sword in his hand again after so many years. He felt more alive, in both
mind and body, as he stood on the deck practicing his skills. The men stood in
a row around him, watching, awestruck. Karl was so focused he didn’t even
notice them. Manny, who had never seen his master with a sword before, was
astonished as well. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a master swordsman?” he
asked, approaching him and wagging his tail as Karl practiced.
On the third day,
at about three o’clock in the afternoon, as Karl was discussing with Reginald
his former accomplishments as a fencer, the man in the crow’s nest called out
to the rest of the men. “Ship ho! Ship ho! Coming straight for us from the
Northeast! About a mile off!”
“What is it, lad?”
asked Reginald.
“I don’t know,
sir. It’s very large. Perhaps a war vessel!”
“Let me have a
gander,” said Reginald, who took out his collapsible telescope, stretched it to
its full length, and looked through the lens. “Well, I’ll be,” he said. “I do
believe he’s right!”
“Let me see,” said
Karl.
Reginald handed
him the telescope, and Karl peered through it. He saw a large frigate, heavily
armed, with a rotating satellite on its roof. “It’s a war vessel alright,” said
Karl. “And there’s no use trying to blow it up. It’s made of steel.”
“Shiver me
timbers! Steel, you say?”
“That’s right,”
said Karl. “We have no choice but to cooperate.”
Reginald tugged at
his beard, and nodded in compliance. However, as Karl stood gazing out over the
water, Reginald secretly moved aside and told his men to go into the hold and
collect the machine guns they had acquired on Donarath. “Wait in the hold,” he
told them. “And be ready for anything.”
As the frigate
approached Karl saw that there were a group of about ten men on the boat’s
deck. It pulled up alongside the Beacon, and Karl inspected the men closely.
One of them, an older man wearing a gray suit, with brown skin and graying
black hair, appeared to be the man in charge. The rest of them, wearing the
same gray suits, were armed with machine guns. They pulled up alongside the
Beacon and set out a metal bridge-ladder to cross over. Reginald, Karl, and
several other pirates waited on deck to greet them. “Ahoy there!” cried Reginald
as the men crossed over. The older man’s eyebrow rose as he glanced dubiously
at Reginald and the other men. “How can we be of service to you?"
“My name is
Admiral Jorge Alvarez,” the older man said in a Hispanic accent. “This is my
ship, La Merienda, of the Chilean Navy. Word has come to us of a ship moving
through the South Pacific that pirated a yacht about a week ago, and killed
those on board. I’m afraid we will have to inspect your ship for contraband.”
“Do as you must,”
said Reginald. “But you won’t find any contraband aboard this ship. Isn’t that
right lads?” He turned to his men, who replied enthusiastically in the
affirmative.
“We shall see,”
said the Admiral. “You and your men can wait on deck. Is there anyone else
aboard the ship?”
Reginald shook his
head. Karl looked around and noticed that some of the pirates were missing. He
gave Reginald a stern look, but Reginald ignored him.
Five of the
Chileans, including the captain, went down into the Beacon’s hold, and five men
stayed on deck to keep an eye on the pirates. They stood around them in a half
circle, their hands gripping the handles of their guns; their eyes suspicious, and
their jaws set. “That’s a lovely uniform,” said Reginald, turning to one of the
Chileans. “What material is that?”
“Not sure,” said
the Chilean.
“Do you mind if I
have a feel?” Reginald took a hesitant step in the direction of the Chilean,
one hand holding the hilt of his sword, the other reaching slightly towards the
Chilean’s uniform. The Chileans raised their guns. “Stop,” said the one closest
to Reginald. Reginald stopped, and a placating smile broke over his face. Just
then, the sound of machine gun fire was heard coming from the hold. The
Chileans, in their surprise, looked over, and Reginald, catching them off guard,
drew his sword and flew upon them. The other men quickly followed. There were
more gunshots. Karl and Manny, fearing for their lives, ducked for cover and
ran to the other end of the ship. When they turned around, they saw that two of
the pirates had been shot, and two of the Chileans had been stabbed and lay
dead on the ground. Reginald and two other pirates were struggling to disarm
the three remaining Chileans, and just as they seemed to be gaining the upper
hand, Karl heard an extremely loud gun shot from La Merienda. The Beacon
shuddered violently and Karl, along with the fighting men, fell to the deck.
Rising to his feet, Karl could feel the ship start to tilt. He looked over
again at Reginald and the pirates. Karl, satisfied that they now seemed to have
the upper hand, ran to the edge of the ship and looked down. There was a hole
about two feet in diameter in the ship’s side. “We’re finished!” he thought to
himself. He turned around in a frenzy. The pirates that had been in the hold of
the ship came running out with their machine guns blazing. They shot the two
remaining Chileans, and there was another loud gunshot and tremor in the
Beacon. Again, the men fell to the deck. Raising himself, Reginald cried out to
his men. “Alright lads! Get your bearings! Let’s board her and put these new
weapons to use!” Karl watched as they crossed the bridge over to La Merienda,
hollering and spraying shells into the air. Two soldiers came out to block
their path to the entry of the ship, but the pirates, even those who were shot,
were unstoppable. They killed the two soldiers and went into the ship’s
interior, where Karl lost track of them. Karl waited in silence, listening to
the sound of gunfire coming from within La Merienda, and feeling the Beacon
slowly beginning to tip lower and lower into the Pacific. Manny, frightened,
began to whine. “Are we going to drown, Karl?” he asked.
“I don’t know,
Manny. But it doesn’t look good.”
Finally, after
several minutes, the pirates, or, rather, what was left of them, reemerged from
La Merienda. Karl was glad to see that Reginald, Joe, and Kaloo had survived.
The blonde and the fat pirate were not with them, however. “What happened?”
cried Karl as they crossed back over to the ship.
“They’re done for,
lad,” cried Reginald. “We caught them off guard and killed them.”
Karl, though amazed,
was still not appeased. “But, did they radio for help?”
“We took care of
that, too,” said Kaloo. “No need to worry.”
“No need to
worry!” Karl cried. “Are you crazy? Every Navy in the world is going to be
after us!”
Reginald and the
rest of the men didn’t seem to mind what Karl had said. They went over and
looked at the damage done to the ship. The holes were low enough that some
water was getting in, though high enough that the flow wasn’t constant. “We
will need to repair this,” said Reginald. “We should be able to make it to a
port by nightfall, which is plenty of time, I think. Haul the bodies overboard,
men!”
After they tossed
the bodies, Reginald directed the men to bolster the Beacon’s side, and bucket
out as much water as they could, and though they were riding low in the water,
Reginald still felt confident they would make it to a port by nightfall. Karl,
during this time, sat in a chair on deck, brooding. Finally, Reginald
approached him. “Come along,” he said. “Join me for a drink. Time for a
celebration!”
Chapter 13: A Fight
Reginald was right
in his calculations. They reached the port of Hermelles on the Western side of
the Strait of Gibralter by nightfall. Hermelles was a hotbed for illegal
activity. Even the ship builders they brought the Beacon to for repair were
involved in the trade of illicit goods. After leaving the Beacon for its
restorations, Karl and the pirates found an inn and settled down for the night.
The next day, they went out to explore the town. As they walked along the main
road, which was lined with old, one and two story buildings—some of which were
painted in bright colors and held thriving businesses, others which were old
and dilapidated and seemed to be vacant—there were so many motley characters
around that it seemed to Karl that the pirates barely stood out. A group of
motorcycle gangsters wearing dark leathers, bandanas and sunglasses rode past
on their Harleys; toothless crack addicts with dust in their hair, dressed in
nothing but rags, came begging the men for money; and seedy looking men
gathered in an alley were watching a mongoose do battle with a viper. The whole
town was filled with saloons, brothels, and gambling houses of all sorts.
The air was dry
and muggy. The hot summer wind blew streams of dust and sand down the
yellow-dirt road. Thirsty, the men began looking for a pub. They spotted a
saloon called Vega’s on the bottom floor of a two-story building and went inside.
When the men ordered their drinks, the barkeep informed them that there was a
brothel upstairs. Karl, reluctant from his experience at the last brothel,
decided to wait for the men in the saloon with Manny. He ordered a beer and sat
at a table in the corner, with Manny at his feet. There were just a few people
in the saloon, as it was still relatively early. A big, burly man with a shiny bald
head kept looking over in Karl’s direction from a table across the room, where
he was seated across from two other men. His eyes were bloodshot and full of
cruel and vulgar alacrity. He was leaning in with his elbows on the table and drawing
long and deep on a cigarette. His leather jacket was cut off at the sleeves,
exposing enormous arms that were browned by the sun. After glaring at Karl for
a moment, he leaned into the table and spoke furtively to his two companions, glancing
repeatedly at Karl as he did so. Finally, when he was done speaking in hushed
tones to the other men, he put out his cigarette, took a swig from his beer,
and got up. The other men got up too, and as the burly man began to walk in
Karl’s direction, they followed him. One of these men was a short, broad,
vapid-looking man with foggy gray eyes, a large jaw, and wide square chin. He
was wearing an old, dirty gray suit that was too large for him, and the tops of
his big, meaty hands were covered by the ends of his sleeves. The other was
taller—thin—with a long wrinkled neck that lead to a long, pear-shaped head
with a balding pate and a mean, weather-beaten face. One of his eyes,
apparently, was completely dead, which only added to the air of ruthless
cunning created by his thin, compressed mouth. The three men approached Karl
ominously—the big, burly man’s chin raised in casual pompousness, the other two
men staring dead ahead in taut expectation.
“That’s a nice
looking dog,” said the burly man in a gruff, sinister voice.
“Thank you,” said
Karl.
“What’s his name?”
“Manny.”
At hearing the sound
of his name, Manny looked over at Karl, then at the large man standing in front
of him. Karl could tell that he was worried.
“Manny,” the burly
man said. He approached Manny and bent down to pet him, but Manny shied away
and growled. “Looks like he has a bit of fight in him,” the man said, smiling.
The man with the mean, weather-beaten face, who had had his arms behind his
back up to this point, now revealed his hands, which held a muzzle attached to
a leash. Karl, seeing this, put his hand on the hilt of his sword. The burly
man shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He reached into his
vest and pulled out a large silver revolver. Karl’s hand moved away from the
hilt of his sword. “We’ll be taking your dog now, Mr.,” said the man with the
square chin in a thin, raspy voice.
The burly man
stood still in his spot, as sturdy and imposing as a boulder, and the other two
men began to move in towards Manny. Karl considered his options. He couldn’t
fight off all three men. He was certain of that. But perhaps if he at least
struggled, he could get Manny to run away. As the man with the foggy grey eyes
began to reach for Manny, Karl stood up and tried to draw his sword, but it
stuck. The three men smiled menacingly at him, and the two men who had been
going for Manny turned on him. Karl landed a punch on the tall man’s face and
he fell back, putting his hands to his nose and moaning. But before Karl could
resettle himself, the man with the foggy eyes grabbed him. The other man, with
his nose bleeding, came to help him, and the two men held Karl by the arms as
he struggled to break free.
“Run, Manny! Run!”
Karl cried.
Manny, however,
was fixated on the men attacking his master, barking with his tail erect. The burly
man came right up to Karl, smiling in his face. He delivered a solid blow to his
stomach that bent him double. The other men dropped him, and he fell to the
floor. Karl watched, rolling in pain, as the three men moved in towards Manny. Manny
sat back on his haunches, growling and bearing his teeth as they cornered him. With
a struggle, the men managed to grab him, muzzle him and drag him out the door.
Karl, still reeling from the pain, got up and walked slowly out of the saloon.
When he was outside, he saw the men loading Manny into the back of an old black
pickup truck. As Karl approached, drawing his sword, again the burly man showed
the handle of his gun. “Don’t be brash now,” he said. Karl froze. “Go get
yourself a drink,” the burly man added. “You look like you could use one.”
Laughing, the men got into the truck, and drove away. Karl tried running after
the truck, but it was no use. They were gone. Karl fell to his knees and put
his hands on his head, and sat feeling himself sink further and further into
despair. Finally, after collecting himself, he went back to the pub to inform
the rest of the men.
Karl climbed the
wooden staircase up to the brothel, and found the men gathered in a lounge with
a large orange sofa and several large cushions on the floor. There was a bevy
of prostitutes with them, and everyone was smoking hookah.
“Reginald!” cried
Karl in a frenzy.
Reginald, who was
seated on one of the cushions smoking, looked up inquisitively from under his
brow.
“Someone’s taken
Manny!”
“Who?” Reginald
asked, blowing out smoke.
“Three men!"
cried Karl. "They muzzled him and drove off with him in a black pickup
truck. I don’t know where they’re taking him.”
“There’s only one
place they would be taking him, lad,” Reginald said ominously. “To the fighting
pits. Men!” he began to rise. “Let’s be off.”
The pirates paid
the whores for their company and left, along with Karl, who was greatly
perturbed by what Reginald had told him. Manny was a strong dog, but he had no
fighting experience. If they should arrive too late, Karl was certain Manny
would be very badly hurt at the least. Reginald asked the bar keep where the
local fighting pits were, and they set off. It was a ways away, across town—a
distance of maybe four miles. They had no choice but to walk. The whole time
they walked, Karl imagined horrible things. “I can’t lose Manny,” he thought to
himself. “He’s been my greatest friend for almost ten years. He deserves a
noble death. He deserves to die with me by his side. No amount of treasure is
worth losing him. I can’t lose him. I won’t.” And he picked up his pace, urging
the rest of the men to do so as well.
The fighting pit was in a sandlot behind
an old saloon at the edge of town. When Karl and the men finally arrived,
hundreds of boisterous people were gathered in the lot, where a pit about two
feet deep and a hundred square feet was dug in the center, surrounded by a wire
fence about six feet high. There was a fight already in progress, and the
people were crowding the fence cheering on the two fighting dogs. Karl and the
men pressed their way through the crowd to see. Karl’s worst fears were
realized. Manny was standing in the corner of the pit, and another dog—a large
brown mastiff—was standing in the middle, eyeing him menacingly, and snarling.
“Wait!” cried Karl, hoping whoever was in charge would hear him. “That’s my
dog! Stop the fight!”
Karl noticed
several large men with machine guns perched on a hill above the lot, watching
the crowd. He kicked himself for not suggesting the pirates bring the machine
guns with them. Karl and the pirates approached the fence, but there was
nothing they could do. The fight was underway. “Do something!” cried Karl to
Reginald.
“What can we do?”
he said. “This whole crowd is liable to turn on us. And besides, those men have
us square in their sights.”
Indeed the men
with machine guns were in perfect position to gun them down. It was useless.
They would have to wait it out.
Karl watched in
agony as the fight proceeded. The mastiff, snarling and barking violently, had
Manny cornered in a crouch. Finally, the mastiff charged at Manny, who was
quick enough to dodge the attack and nip the mastiff’s side. The mastiff was
forced to back away and reassess its attack. The next time it charged, it
managed to bite Manny’s right foreleg. This slowed him down some, but not much.
The next time the mastiff charged, he went straight for Manny’s throat. Manny
dodged this attack and bit the mastiff’s eye. The mastiff yelped, and backed
away.
“That’s the way,
Manny!” cried Reginald as both Manny and the mastiff regrouped. “Dodge and
strike!”
Karl couldn’t
believe that Reginald and the rest of the men seemed to be enjoying this. He
could barely watch. In fact, when the mastiff nearly got hold of Manny’s neck
on his next attack, Karl covered his eyes.
However, having
drawn first blood, instinct seemed to kick in for Manny, and he took on a
remarkable fighting form. He dodged this way and that, springing on his agile
legs, nipping at the big mastiff’s neck and face. The mastiff kept going
straight for Manny’s neck, but each time Manny would move his whole body out of
the way and slash at the mastiff’s side. The mastiff, now completely bloodied,
was not deterred. He snarled ferociously, and made a mad dash. This time,
despite Manny’s quickness, the mastiff got hold of Manny’s neck. Manny let out
a loud yelp as the giant dog’s jaws closed around his jugular. Karl ran like a
mad man at the fence and began shaking it violently. “Help him!” he cried.
“Please! Stop the fight!”
Suddenly, from off
in the distance, a small object was propelled into the pit, and struck the
mastiff on the head. Karl turned. He saw Kaloo, standing at a distance from the
rest of the people. He had grabbed a stone and thrown it like a missile at the
mastiff, nailing him dead-on. The mastiff loosened his jaws and stumbled. Then,
seeing his chance, Manny went right for the mastiff, jumping on his back and
clamping his jaws around the thick, muscular neck. This was useless, however,
so Manny repositioned himself and managed to get a lock on the underside of the
mastiff’s neck. He tore the flesh right open, and the mastiff fell to the
ground. Blood gushed from the neck of the mastiff like a river. Manny did not
let go until it stopped struggling and lay still. The crowd cheered. Karl stood
in disbelief. As the handlers came into the pit to collect Manny, Reginald
spoke to one of them through the fence.
“How much for the
golden?” he asked.
“This beast? I’d
have to make it a clean thousand dollars,” was the reply.
Reginald reached
into his pocket and pulled out two large diamonds, and three hundred dollars in
cash—souvenirs from the yacht. “Will this do?” he asked.
The handler
reached up and took the diamonds through the fence, and inspected them. He
nodded. Manny, bloodied and exhausted, was turned over to Karl, who embraced
his dog and wept tears of joy and relief.
“Oh, Manny!” he
cried. “I’m so sorry!”
Manny licked his
face. “It’s OK, Karl,” he said. “I fought hard, didn’t I?”
“You fought,” said
Karl, “like a champion.”
Chapter 14: A Tale of Lost Love
Their ship
repaired, Karl and the men of the Beacon left Hermelles two days later and made
their way North through the Atlantic. That first night of sailing, after
spending a couple of hours with Manny in the main quarters to make sure he fell
asleep and was not in too much pain, Karl joined Reginald and the rest of the
men in the captain’s cabin for a bout of drinking. When Karl entered, the men
were drunkenly discussing the various ways they would spend their money once
the treasure had been found.
“I shall buy me an
island in the South Pacific,” said Joe Connors after finishing off a glass of
rum. “I'll raise pigs like my father (curse his soul), and eat bacon every
morning and ham every night. I’ll have a hundred wives, too—each prettier than
the last. Of course I’ll share them with all of you whenever you come to visit!
Hahaha!”
“As for me,” said Kaloo,
“I will buy a palace like that which the slave owner who killed my father had.
I will have hundreds of white slaves, and a great library that will hold the
greatest and rarest of all books. A private orchestra will play for my family each
night, and great golden spears will line my halls. My children will be taught
all the languages of the world by the most learned men, and they will become
great scholars and princes. In my garden there will be exotic plants from my
native Africa, and a great golden fountain studded with rubies and sapphires. I
will wear silk clothes and pearl-studded slippers as I walk about my grounds
with my beautiful wife of royal blood, and each day we will pray to my god, Choluku,
in a great temple made of gold.”
“Ahh,” said the
men, nodding their heads. “What about you, Reginald?” asked Joe Connors. “What
will you do with your portion of the treasure?”
“Me?” He leaned
back and looked at the ceiling in contemplation. “I will buy a nice house on
the beach, where I can raise children with Merie...” He cut himself off. “...A
beautiful young woman.” The rest of the men looked embarrassed. Karl wondered
why. Reginald turned to Karl. “And what about you?” he asked. “What will you do
with the treasure?”
Karl was taken
aback. He had been so caught up in the adventure that he had not really thought
of what he would do with his portion of the treasure. “I don’t know,” he said.
“I guess I’ll pay off my debts.”
The pirates
laughed.
“Come on, lad!”
said Reginald. “You can be more imaginative than that.”
“Yeah!” said Joe.
“You don’t mean to tell us that you want to live in that small shack for the
rest of your days, do you?”
“You’re right,”
said Karl. He had a vague premonition of himself playing with his granddaughter
on the beach. “I suppose I would like a bigger place,” he said. “Certainly on
the beach.”
“And you deserve it, my good man,” said
Reginald.
“Thank you,” said
Karl, still picturing himself with his granddaughter. “Yes. Thank you.”
Later, after the
rest of the men had gone off to sleep, Karl and Reginald sat alone together,
drinking the last of a bottle of rum. Brimming with curiosity, Karl finally
broke the silence. “Reginald,” he said. “Earlier, when you were talking, I
couldn’t help but notice that you stopped yourself while referring to a
particular woman.”
Reginald sighed
and leaned back in his chair, gazing pensively up at the ceiling and taking a
long pull on his pipe. “It’s true,” he said, his eyes glazed over with
dreaminess. “There was a woman in my life.”
“Who was she?”
asked Karl.
Reginald poured
himself a glass of rum, downed it, and placed the glass on the table. “Marienda
was her name,” he said, staring at his hunched over reflection in the glass.
“She was a beauty, she was. A raven-haired goddess with skin as pure and white
as the first rays of God’s new day. I can remember the first time I saw her. I
was in Ireland preparing for our journey to Kojiwana, and one night I stopped
in at a local pub. She was serving the customers their drinks, and when she
approached me, I felt my heart lift off as if it would shoot straight from my
mouth (which I was afraid of because my heart is a vile thing, as you know).
‘What’ll it be?’ she asked, leaning over the bar and exposing her ample
cleavage. Who knows how long I sat there blinking stupidly under the gaze of
her dark, fiery eyes?
“’Give me a pint
of your finest ale,’ I finally said, feeling like a fool for not saying
something clever. When she came back with my pint, I asked her name. ‘Marienda,’
she said. ‘Marienda,’ I said. ‘What are you doing in a place like this? A girl
like you belongs in a palace.’ Again, I felt like a fool, only this time by the
way she smiled, it felt good to be a fool.
“‘And I suppose
you’re the one to bring me there,’ she said, and turned away, smiling and
flushing like a rose. Right then and there, I knew I was in love.”
“So what
happened?” asked Karl.
“I went back to
the bar night after night," continued Reginald, "and kept talking to
her. She seemed taken with me. So, the night before our voyage, I stayed after
the bar closed, and waited for her. We sat up till morning, drinking and
talking. She told me all about her life, how she lived with her parents and ten
siblings in a small house in the village, and how she had been working to help
her family since she was very young. She was a jovial, bright-spirited woman,
but I could tell that her situation was making her sad.
“’I’ll tell you
what,’ I told her, ‘I am leaving in a few days, but I promise to come back, and
when I do, I will be a rich man. I will take you out of your parent’s home and
put you in a palace. You don’t believe me?’ She was laughing, you see. I reached
into my pocket and took out a gold coin—my lucky gold coin.
“’Here,’ I said,
giving her the coin. ‘Keep this as a sign of my vow. I will return to you. By
the Lord Almighty, I swear it.’
“She leaned over
and kissed me. When I came to the dock that morning, I was in high spirits,
thinking the future was all laid out for me. Of course, it was. Only it wasn’t
the future I had in mind.” Reginald poured himself another glass of rum. The
bottle was near empty. Holding the glass, he sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“Ah, my good lad, I would trade the entirety of the Treasure of Candoleen ten
times over just to see her face again.”
“I’m sorry,” said
Karl. “But you will find someone else.”
“Perhaps,” said
Reginald. “But my heart is still with Marienda, wherever she may be. Ah, well.
Here’s to new beginnings.” He held up his glass and Karl, taking his own
glass—which was almost empty—clinked it. The two men drank, then went off to
bed.
Chapter
15: A Party
The
next couple of weeks or so were mostly smooth sailing as the Beacon made its
way up through the Atlantic. They stayed as far away from the coasts as
possible to avoid further trouble with any navies, which proved to be an
effective strategy. One afternoon, about five hundred miles north of the tip of
South America, they came upon a small island. From a distance, they could see a
large upscale beach house set into the island’s rocky coast, and as they grew
nearer, they saw that the large veranda and the pool deck below it were full of
people, and the sound of upbeat music could be heard.
“What
a party!” cried Joe Connors.
“Perhaps
they wouldn’t mind a few uninvited guests,” said Reginald, smiling.
Karl
immediately sensed trouble, but he knew there was no use arguing with Reginald.
For him, life was one big party, and he meant to crash it by any means
necessary. They dropped anchor, took a sack full of alcohol to use as
inducement, and rowed up to the beach in front of the house. As they got out, Reginald
greeted the astonished partygoers. “Ahoy there!” he cried as the people stared
amazed. “We saw that you were having a party and thought we might join
you." A handsome man dressed in khakis and a white button down shirt
stepped forward to the edge of the veranda and looked down at the men
suspiciously, his eyes squinting in the sun.
“Who are you?” he
asked.
“Ah,
allow me to introduce myself. My name is Reginald Patterson Pierce, first mate
of our good ship the Beacon. These are my men. A motley bunch we are, but don’t
let our appearances frighten you. We are a jolly bunch of men—fun loving and
sociable. We noticed your party as we were sailing by, and we would love
nothing more than to join you in your festivities before we continue on our
way.”
Karl
was impressed by the gentility with which Reginald spoke, and recalled how he
had mentioned his aristocratic upbringing.
A
pudgy man with small, beady eyes and a puffy, ashen face approached the handsome
man, who seemed to be the owner of the house. He was dressed in khakis and a
bright blue polo shirt with a dark diagonal stain across the middle. Completely
drunk, he practically fell on the other man’s shoulder. “Ah, let ‘me in!” he
shouted. “They look like a solid bunch of bastards to me!” The rest of the
people seemed to agree. The owner of the house looked worried. He wasn’t nearly
as drunk as everyone else appeared to be.
“Yeah,
Rick,” a pretty woman in a black dress said. “They look like they’d be fun. Let
them in!"
Reginald
held up the sack full of alcohol. “We also have a copious offering of booze to
give you as a party gift,” he said.
The
drunken man with the stained shirt jostled the owner again, this time more
violently. “Now we have to let them in!” he cried. Many of the other
party-goers voiced their concurrence.
“Well,” said the
house owner, looking somewhat appeased. “I suppose we could use a little extra alcohol.
Come on in. But please, wipe your boots.”
The
men walked from the beach to the deck, where the people were gathered around
the pool, and climbed the steps leading to the veranda. Once there, the owner,
who introduced himself as Rick Conway, showed them into the house. Karl was
amazed by the opulence of the room he found himself in. The walls and the
carpeting were white and seemed to glow from the light of the crystal
chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was a large oak dining table in the
center of the room, around which were high backed chairs with blue diaphanous
silk-lined cushions. In front of the left wall was a beautiful oak bar, above
which was a long shelf with glass doors, inside of which was a huge assortment
of bottles and decanters of alcohol. The mass of people in the room stood
around talking and laughing, creating a din that seemed to bounce around in
Karl’s skull like metal balls in a pinball machine. The men were dressed in
varying levels of formality, some in suits and ties, others in khakis and polo
shirts, but they all looked like they could be found in a Ritz-Carlton bar on a
Friday evening, or at the ritziest of country clubs, drinking whiskey with ice
from little tumblers with red straws. The women, on the other hand, were
dressed as if they were attending the opera, and were drinking red wine from
fluted glasses. It all gave the room that special effervescent glow which one
only finds in the homes of aristocrats, and only on the rarest occasions. When
Karl and the pirates entered, everyone turned to them with curiosity. “Good day
to you ma’am,” said Reginald, bowing to a beautiful blonde woman in a pink
dress. She seemed utterly pleased.
Reginald and
several of the other men went over to the bar and began emptying the sack of
alcohol onto the counter. The party-goers crowded around them and expressed
their delight at the new addition to their selection. “How kind of you!” said a
busty brunette to Reginald as he placed the last bottle on the bar.
“At your service,”
he said, nodding.
Karl stood beside
the bar with Manny at his side, looking around. He watched as the various
pirates walked proudly about with their drinks in their hands, greeting the
various party guests with the self-conscious airs of celebrities. Kaloo stood
at the bookshelf, reading one of the books with what seemed bemused disgust.
Karl approached him.
“Reading anything
interesting?” he asked.
Kaloo slammed the
book shut and placed it back on the shelf. “These books are the books of a
fool,” said Kaloo, crossing his arms. Karl looked at the selection. Half the
shelf was taken up by works by James Patterson and Danny Baldacci. There were
books by unknown authors with titles like, "Go for Broke" and
"Business for Dummies."
“I think you’re
right,” said Karl.
He looked around
again, and noticed Reginald talking with the busty brunette in the corner. He
overheard their conversation. “You say you’re pirates?” the woman asked.
“That
we are,” said Reginald, preparing his pipe.
“How
fascinating!” the woman cried. “It’s like something out of a dream, isn’t it
David?” She turned to a tall, stiff-looking man with dark hair in a blue suit.
“It
certainly is. But you all seem so friendly! Just how I’d imagine pirates to
be!”
“We’re
not all friendly,” said Reginald. “Some wouldn’t hesitate to kill you for that
nice suit you’re wearing.”
The
woman laughed. “Charming!” she said. “Absolutely charming!”
Karl continued
looking around and saw Joe Connors, walking around the room with the now empty
sack they had brought the alcohol in, pulling trinkets from the shelves and
putting them into it. When Karl noticed him, he gave him a disapproving look.
Joe just smiled and winked at him, and carried on in his thievery.
Karl,
telling himself that it couldn’t be helped, decided to explore the house. He
and Manny walked through many opulent rooms, with oak paneling on the walls,
chandeliers on the ceiling, shelves made of the finest oak, and valuables of
all sorts placed elegantly on the tables. In one room, there was a karaoke
machine. A man was singing “Two Tickets to Paradise” and a crowd of people
stood around him, watching. Several pirates entered the room and observed the
scene with curiosity. “Strange music,” said Kaloo, who apparently had gotten
bored with looking at the bookshelf. “What is it?”
“It’s
called Rock n’ Roll,” said Karl.
“I
like it,” said Kaloo, smiling, and he moved in closer to watch.
When
the song was over, everyone cheered, and the man who had been singing walked smiling
into the crowd of people as they congratulated him. Kaloo, his eyes intent on
the microphone stand, stepped forward. “Now I will sing,” he said. “Let me show
you my voice.” A man said, “OK,” and the crowd began to clap dubiously as Kaloo
walked up to the microphone stand. “What is this?” asked Kaloo, pointing to the
top of the microphone.
“It’s a microphone,”
a man said. “You sing into it.”
Kaloo stared long
at the contraption, then shrugged his shoulders and looked at the crowd. “I
don’t know any modern songs,” he finally said. “So I will sing you an old
pirate song, instead.”
“Alright!” a man
cried, and everyone clapped.
Kaloo
once again looked at the microphone, then back at the audience. He cleared his
throat and with his deep voice began to sing:
We pirates like the gold, we stack it to the
moon.
We pirates like loose women, swordplay and
drinking, too.
We drink rum in the morn,
We drink rum every night.
We sail for gold and glory, we do not fear a
fight!
Fools who want our gold, beware, this much
is true:
We’ll chop off your head and drink your
blood,
And cook your flesh in a hearty stew.
Our lust for life is great,
And if you don’t like our ways,
You can kiss our ass as we pass gas
And fuck yourselves all day!
When
he was finished singing, the drunken crowd hooted and hollered in delight.
“More! More!” they cried. Kaloo smiled bashfully, and was about to sing again,
when, to everyone’s astonishment, a loud crash was heard from an adjoining
room. Karl, who had been watching Kaloo amusedly, felt his blood run cold. He
and Manny, along with everyone else, ran to see. When Karl got to the other
room, he saw a man lying on the floor surrounded by shards of glass where a
table used to lay. Above him Joe
Connors was looking down at him menacingly, one hand clenched in a fist and the
other on his saber. “Make accusations of Joe Connors will you?” he said. “Well,
you’d better be prepared to fight. Get up, you limey dog!”
Karl ran over to
Reginald, who stood nearby.
“What
happened?” he asked.
“He
accused Joe of stealing,” said Reginald. “A mistake on his part, I’m afraid.”
As
Joe loomed above the man on the ground, waiting for him to get up, Karl
grabbed Reginald’s arm. “Reginald,” he said. “Can we please just go?”
Reginald
smiled, and looked at his men. “What do you say, lads? Shall we leave these
good people in peace?”
“Ah,
let’s do ‘em in!” cried the fat pirate. “Let’s take the lot!”
Karl
could feel his chest and underarms perspiring. Reginald looked again at Karl,
and smiled. “Boys!” cried Reginald. “Let’s butcher these pigs!” With a look of
utter delight, Joe drew his saber and ran at the man on the floor. Karl tried
to cry out, but before he could catch his breath Joe had stabbed the petrified
man through the heart. Then, all pandemonium broke loose. All of the pirates
drew their swords and began swinging them about in a mad frenzy. It was indeed
like some kind of terrible slaughterhouse, only with people instead of pigs or
cattle. In their terror, the guests ran for the nearest exit, only to be met by
the awful machine of the pirates’ swinging blades. Blood splattered on the
ceiling, floor and walls, and the sound of the screams was so awful it made
Karl’s ears ring. Some escaped, but most did not. When the slaughtering was
finished and the bodies lay piled on the floor, Karl gazed with awe upon the
scene. “Well lads,” said Reginald. “I don’t know about you but I enjoyed this
party!” After cleaning their blades, the pirates began walking around and
taking the valuables off the dead. Karl stood silently the whole time, amazed.
He looked at Manny, expecting him to say something, but even he was at a loss
for words.
As
the pirates loaded the valuables onto the boats, Karl stayed in the room with
the dead bodies, staring in a state of shock. It wasn’t until Reginald
approached and put his hand on his shoulder that Karl was awakened from his
horrible reverie. “Come along, lad,” said Reginald. “You should be used to this
by now.”
Karl
looked up at Reginald, full of anger and disbelief. “I will never be used to
this,” he said. “Never.”
Reginald
smiled. “Now Karl...”
“Leave
me alone.”
“Do
you wish to stay here then?”
Karl
looked at the floor. The blood in the carpet was beginning to stain his shoes.
“You
will tell the police about us?” asked Reginald. Karl looked up again and
noticed a hint of irony in Reginald’s cheerful face. “Don’t you want to find
the Treasure of Candoleen?”
“Is
that all that matters to you?” asked Karl. “The treasure? Don’t you have any
moral fiber at all?”
Reginald
laughed. “Morals are good for two types of people, my lad: slaves, and their
masters.”
“You’re
wrong,” said Karl. “Morality is what makes men their own masters.”
“The
only thing that makes a master,” said Reginald, “is gold. And we have a whole
country’s worth waiting for us.”
Karl
looked once more at the scene of carnage around him.
“Let’s go,” said
Reginald. Karl did not respond. “I said, let’s
go.” Once again, Karl felt like a prisoner, and indeed he was. Now realizing
that he had no choice, he followed Reginald, in a daze, outside and back to the
boats, where they rowed with their newfound booty back to the Beacon.
Chapter
16: Forgiveness
Karl
spent the next couple of days by himself, drinking below deck with Manny by his
side. Manny said nothing to his master, seeing that no words of sympathy could alleviate
his rage and despair. The men tried to engage him, but Karl was obstinate. He
had seen enough. Slowly, he was building up the courage to confront Reginald
about his rash and violent behavior, and finally, one evening, Reginald came
down to him. “I can see you’re mad,” he said. Karl did not respond. He stared
straight ahead, brooding. “You don’t want to be drinking yourself to death
now,” Reginald continued. “Come up on deck. The sky is beautiful.”
Karl
was silent.
“What
is it you want, my lad? There’s no use sitting there pouting like an
ill-tempered child.”
Karl
laughed mockingly and ironically nodded his head.
“You are upset
about what happened at the party,” said Reginald. “As I said before...”
“I don’t care what
you said!” Karl interrupted, looking up at Reginald with fiery eyes. “There’s
no good excuse for it!”
“Well,” said
Reginald after a long pause. “What do you want then?”
Karl spoke calmly,
evenly, but with an undertone of wrath. “What I want is for you to stop killing
people needlessly and making me an
accessory to mass murder. That’s what I want.” Reginald’s face became serious
and he sighed, looking at the ground. “And,” said Karl, “I want an apology.”
Reginald
looked at him inquisitively. “Are you serious, my lad?”
Karl
glared at him with steely eyes.
Reginald
screwed up his mouth in a look of pity and understanding. “Very well,” he said.
“I am sorry. And I will try in the future to keep from killing people
needlessly.”
“You
have to promise me,” said Karl.
Reginald
looked at the floor. “I promise,” he said. “Now put the bottle away and come up
on deck. The sunset is especially beautiful tonight.”
Karl
considered Reginald's apology. He knew deep down that Reginald was not evil at
his core. The life that had transpired for him had made him reckless and cruel.
But was it his fault? Had his life not been, like all lives, an unstoppable
torrent of endless circumstance, carrying him away against his will? He looked
at Reginald, and did not see a monster. He saw a man who felt genuine remorse.
He saw a friend. He saw a companion. He saw a brother. Karl accepted his
apology, and followed him onto the deck, with Manny in tow. The sunset was indeed
beautiful. The bright orange ball of the sun was bursting out of a group of
cumulus clouds on the horizon. The base of the clouds glowed violet and the
tops were orange and pink. The rays of the sun itself looked like the blades of
a fan, and the sky behind it was so blue it seemed to hum with the vibrancy of
a song. The ocean glistened with the infinite passion of a child basking in the
warmth of its mother’s love. Karl felt remorse. So many had died so needlessly
and only now had he found the will to intercede. But he was glad he had sorted
things out with Reginald. If he could learn to forgive him and the rest of the
pirates for what they’d done, he could forgive anything. The thought of this
seemed to be hinting at something—something that seemed as if it should be
obvious to him. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t place it. He just stared
at the sun, slowly filling himself with wonder, and with hope.
Chapter
17: The Dream
The ship sailed
through mostly calm waters for the next several weeks, and the men waited
anxiously for their arrival to the Island of Dove’s Peak. Karl did a lot of
drinking during these days, and a lot of sleeping. One night, he had a strange
dream. He was aboard the Beacon, and all the men were gathered on deck. It was
night, and the moonlight shown upon Reginald as he stood before his men on the quarter
deck, dressed in the modern garb of a naval admiral, holding a conductor’s
baton in his hand. The rest of the men, as if in a trance, stood wearing the
same uniform watching him as he raised his baton. And then, as he suddenly
thrust it downward, they began singing a low and mournful tune—like a requiem,
as if they were honoring someone’s death. Karl got the sense that it was his
own death they were honoring. He sat behind the rest of the men, with Manny,
drinking from a bottle of rum and smoking a cigar. He felt languid, and rather
ill. As the song reached its crescendo, the sun rose in a burst to the East. Karl
marveled at the unnatural splendor of the enormous sun, whose light seemed
somehow connected with the pirates’ song. Then, the sky was blue and everything
was silent. The pirates stood motionless, looking upward, as if in a trance.
Karl heard—very faintly at first—a strange sound coming from the ocean. It grew
louder, and Karl recognized it as the sound of a child crying. He stood up and
went to the edge of the ship, and looked out over the water. In the ocean,
about fifty yards out, he could see his son treading water, holding onto a
young child. Karl yelled to the men, “Turn back! My son and granddaughter are
drowning!” But they did not hear him. They just stood there, staring into space.
In a panic, Karl dove off the side of the ship and swam after his son and
granddaughter, but it seemed the harder he swam, the further and further they
drifted away from him. Then he felt something heavy pulling him down. He looked
into the water, and there, attached to his leg by a rope, was a giant treasure
chest made of gold. As he went under, he tried to remove the rope from his leg,
but he was unable to. Down and down he went to the bottom of the sea. And then
he once again could hear the pirates singing. “And the sea was made his home,”
they sang. “That is where he dwelt.” The water began to fill his lungs, and in
a panic, he woke up.
The
sound of the men snoring resonated in the quarters. Karl looked down at Manny,
who was sleeping peacefully on the floor. Karl was wide awake, and decided to
go out to the deck. Once there, he found Reginald standing alone and smoking
his pipe, as if in a trance. Reginald heard Karl approached nodded at him.
“Having trouble sleeping?” he asked.
“A
dream awoke me,” said Karl. “A very strange dream.”
Reginald
nodded solemnly.
“Reginald,”
said Karl. “Do you think we are going survive this?”
Reginald
took several pulls on his pipe, and without looking up, spoke: “There was
always a chance that we would not,” he said. “But we have already survived many
a’ danger, so perhaps the gods are shining down on us. And if not, you will
have at least lived your last days to the fullest, ma’ lad. You can be certain
of that.”
Karl
looked up at the night sky. It was full of stars. Just then, he thought of his
son, and wondered if he would ever see him again. “Life to the fullest,” he
said to himself quietly. “I wonder.”
Chapter
18: Bustle at the Casino
The
Beacon made its way North through the Atlantic for just over a month. Besides
one major storm that blew them off course, the sailing was easy, and the ocean
calm. On the thirty-seventh day the Island of Dove’s Peak appeared on the
horizon. Even from a distance it was evident that this was a bustling
commercial hub. It was a hot day and the sun was shining off the multitude of
buildings that lined the coast. There were high-rise apartment complexes and
hotels made of glass, casinos lined with gold paneling and a steel circular
theater with a blue and white onion dome. The beach was crowded with people,
and all about were beautiful palms and exotic plants. The dock was burgeoning
with ships of all kinds, some bringing in goods to supply the various restaurants
and stores that dotted the island. High above it all, at the apex of the
island, a large white mansion was perched, surrounded by a high iron gate.
They
pulled into the harbor and nobody gave them a second glance as they
disembarked. Walking along the wharf, they saw all sorts of strange people. A
man with a giant boa constrictor wrapped around his shoulders, dressed in
nothing but a loin cloth, was playing a penny whistle and smiling at the
passers by. Two acrobats were performing on a giant pillar-like apparatus that
shot fire out of various holes. A man dressed in livery was singing “Nessum
Dorma.” And an old man in a white robe, with a long gray beard was performing
magic tricks with a set of gems laid out before him.
“One
thing about the Captain," said Reginald. "He always had style.”
Most
of the people walking around looked like tourists—wealthy couples and groups of
young people looking for excitement. Reginald, in order to get directions to
the Captain’s home, approached an elderly couple seated on a bench. Karl and
Manny stood nearby, watching. “Good day to you!” Reginald cried. The couple
looked at him, astonished. “Do you know where the Captain resides by chance?”
“The
Captain?” asked the elderly man.
“Yes,
the owner of the island.”
“Oh,
yes!” said the woman. “I believe he lives in the mansion at the top of Beak
Hill. But you can’t go up there. It’s private.”
“Can
you tell me what road it’s on anyway, just so I can have a look?”
“Beak
Hill Drive is about five blocks that way,” said the old man, pointing. “Just
past the casino.”
Reginald thanked
the couple and rejoined Karl, Manny, and the rest of the men. “Well, men,” said
Reginald. “I know the way, but chances are, security will be tight. So we'll
need to stay sharp!”
The men walked
down the crowded road toward the casino. When they passed it, the men gave it a
gander. It was a wide, square building with a gold-plated pyramidal roof and
marble walls. Many people, some dressed in fancy clothes, others in jeans and
tee-shirts, were walking in and out, up and down the red carpeted stairs of the
vestibule with its marbled pediment and smooth columns. On the pediment, in
gold lettering, was written, “The Treasure Trove,” and near the doorway was a
large sculpture of a treasure chest and a tall man dressed in a pirate outfit,
with a parrot on his shoulder, greeting the patrons as they came in. People
were seated on the benches out front, some smoking, others talking animatedly,
and through the glass doors leading to the casino, the men could see the rows
of slot machines and the people hurrying along. “What a lively place!” cried Joe.
“Let’s have a look inside.”
Reginald nodded,
and the men walked up the entrance to the casino. Karl immediately sensed
trouble, but before he could remind Reginald of his promise, the men were
halfway to the door. When they reached the doorway, a tall, burly security
guard in a black suit and a headset stepped into their path. “I’m afraid we
don’t allow weapons inside, gentlemen.” The men stopped. Karl looked over the men’s
faces. They didn’t look happy. Karl anticipated the worst. Joe reached for his
saber, but Reginald, to Karl’s great surprise and relief, stopped him. “Not
now, Joe,” said Reginald. “Not now.” Joe stared at the security guard for a
long time. Karl wondered if he would snap. With the weight of Reginald’s hand
on his shoulder, however, Joe relented, and the men turned away. But as they
were walking back down the ramp, Joe suddenly turned around, pulled out his
saber, and ran at the security guard at full speed. The guard pulled out a gun,
and shot Joe in the chest. He fell dead to the floor. Commotion ensued.
Seeing their
comrade dead, the other pirates, including Reginald, pulled their swords and
ran at the security guard in a mad dash, stabbing him. More guards, hearing the
commotion, ran outside. Karl, falling back, watched from the sidewalk as the
pirates were restrained, and in some cases, shot. It took five men to restrain Kaloo
alone. As Reginald and the other surviving pirates were handcuffed, the sound
of police sirens was heard. Karl watched as five police cars and an armored
vehicle came zooming up the road. When the police arrived, Reginald and the
other men were placed inside the vehicles. As he was being forced into one of
the cars, Reginald looked up at Karl with pleading eyes. “Find us,” he said.
Karl looked at him, stunned. Even if he did find them, what could he possibly
do?
He watched as the
police cars zoomed back up the road, feeling stranded and utterly
flabbergasted. The police detective approached him, and Karl gave his report.
After finishing
his interview with the detective, Karl walked from the entrance of the casino,
which was now crowded with police officers, curious onlookers and dead bodies,
and looked down at Manny. “What are we going to do?” he said aloud.
Manny looked up at
him with what seemed to Karl great concern. “We’re going to save them, aren’t
we Karl?”
Karl considered.
It might be very easy to find a transport home if he tried. Then, all of this
horror would come to an end, and he could live out the rest of his life in
peace. But something was drawing him towards Reginald and the rest of the pirates.
During his adventures with them, he had learned to appreciate their
free-wheeling ways, and even love them. They were his brothers now, and they
needed him. But what could he do?
Chapter 19: Reginald’s Plan
After most of the
crowd had dissipated, Karl approached one of the officers that was still on the
scene, and asked him where the pirates had been taken.
“To the jail,” said
the officer. “On the other side of the island.”
“How do I get
there?” asked Karl.
The officer gave
him directions. It was a ways away, and Karl and Manny would have to walk. They
walked to the edge of the commercial district, which seemed to go on for miles.
He saw saloons and shopping malls, strip malls and strip clubs. The further he
went down the road, the seedier everything became. He passed the red light
district, where prostitutes, some young and fresh, some aged and worn, made
seductive poses and come-hither remarks, and homeless men and little children,
dressed in nothing but rags, came begging for pennies. Finally, he found the
road he was looking for: Walk-the-Plank Way. The road was filled with packing
plants and warehouses and other industrial buildings, some of which had
smokestacks that were filling the air with a pungent odor. It led to the back
of the island, behind the Captain’s mansion, where the jailhouse resided on a
cliff over the ocean. It was nearing sundown by the time he and Manny arrived.
The jailhouse was
a small, one story building, made of gray stone. A small storm over the ocean
in the distance was blowing a steady warm breeze inland, and the tall grass in
the yard was bending under its weight. The sound of the waves crashing against
the rocks below the cliff and then receding seemed to echo the turmoil in
Karl’s soul. At the front of the jailhouse, there was a window—barred and
opaque—and a white door, guarded by an officer. At the door, Karl was forced to
relinquish his saber. He had no idea what he was going to do. He had been
thinking the whole way there, but nothing seemed workable. In the end, he told
the sheriff that he was the pirates’ lawyer, and needed to talk to them about
their case. He was granted access to talk to them. Karl was led through the
steel doors to the prison block, and down the long cold hallway to where the
pirates were being held in a single, cramped cell. He was left alone to talk
with them.
“Karl!” said
Reginald, obviously relieved to see him. “Have you a plan to get us out?”
“A plan?” said Karl.
“What kind of plan could I possibly have?”
Reginald smiled
and began tugging at his beard. “I thought you might say that,” he said, “which
is why I have also been putting my mind to the problem. Listen.” He lowered his
voice to a whisper. Karl drew nearer to the bars. “If we could somehow inform the
Captain that we are here, I am certain that he would want to deal with us
himself. The Captain is not the type of man that likes to give others the
pleasure of destroying his foes. He is a highly vindictive man, the Captain. Do
this,” he said. “Find the Captain and tell him that we have kidnapped you and
brought you here against your will, and killed your family, and that no amount
of legal justice will suffice for your vengeance. The Captain and Envilisa have
always hated us, especially the Sorceress. It is likely they will devise for us
a punishment much more devious than prison time. But as things stand, there is
nothing more that I want than to see the Captain and Envilisa face to face,
however horrible they may be. They will get us out of here to deal with us on
their own terms. Then, at least, there will be a chance that we might have
victory. Trust me, my friend, their bitterness will blind them, and we will
have our chance.”
Karl thought. It
seemed feasible. But he had one question. “How am I supposed to get in touch
with the Captain? His house is closed off, remember?”
Reginald smiled.
“I overheard,” he said, “from some of the other prisoners, that the Captain is
throwing a party tonight at his mansion. Go to this party. There you can find
him and do as I said.”
Karl was dubious.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“Trust me, lad.
Reginald Patterson Pierce has gotten out of worse scrapes than this before. Do
as I say, and I guarantee you the treasure will be ours.”
Karl thought about
Reginald’s plan. He couldn’t think of anything better himself. And if the men
stayed in prison, they would be tried for murder, and the adventure would end.
Karl didn’t want the adventure to end. Though the pirates had put him through
Hell with their murderous escapades, he still considered them his friends.
Indeed, his family. Should he abandon them now, he would never be able to
forgive himself.
“OK,” said Karl.
“I’ll do it.”
“That’s ma’ lad!”
cried Reginald. “But be wary. Don’t give yourself away. And remember, if Envilisa
asks you anything, don’t look her in the eye. She will be able to tell that you
are lying.”
Karl nodded, and
he and Manny left. At the door, the officer gave him his saber, which he hoped
to high heaven he wouldn’t have to use. Now the only question was, how would he
get into the Captain’s party?
Chapter 20: Karl Meets the Villains
Karl and Manny
walked the long distance to Beak Hill Road. It was dark as he climbed the steep
road, the only light coming from the moon and stars and the intermittent gaslights
that lined the street. Many cars passed him by as he walked—limousines and old
town cars carrying elderly couples, flashy sports cars with middle aged men and
women, and Jeeps filled with young and energetic youths, some of them honking
and waving as they passed. Karl was nervous, but Manny kept his spirits up by
offering words of encouragement. By the time the mansion was in sight, Karl felt
invigorated by his strenuous climb. When they reached the gate, the guards
stopped them. “I need to see the Captain,” said Karl, “on urgent business.”
The guards looked
him up and down scrupulously. “On what business?” one of them asked.
“Tell him it
involves the pirates of the Beacon,” said Karl.
The guard nodded
and walked into the compound, where hundreds of people were gathered for the
party. Karl observed the scene through the gate. Floodlights revealed an old
French Gothic style mansion, with flying buttresses, pointed arches and
gargoyles—perfectly suited, as Karl imagined, to its residents. The yard was
interwoven with pristinely trimmed hedges, and an intricately carved marble
fountain was brightly lit and shooting streams of water from various jets into
the surrounding pool. Canopies were set up around the yard, where hundreds of
people were gathered around tables set with platters of fine delicacies and
decanters of alcohol. A string quartet was set up in one corner of the yard,
playing a Venetian waltz. Karl and Manny waited outside the gate for nearly a
half an hour before the guard finally came back. “I’ll need your weapon,” he
said. Karl gave him the sword, feeling almost relieved that he was no longer a
threat. “Come with me.” Karl and Manny followed him through the gate. They were
led around to the back, where Karl saw a huge garden, also lit by floodlights,
divided by a vast labyrinth of stone walkways, replete with fountains and
statues in the same Gothic style as the mansion. They were led to a plain blue
wooden door on the surface level of the house, and the guard knocked.
The door was
opened and they were greeted by an old man in a tuxedo. A butler, Karl
presumed. The guard left, and the old man invited Karl and Manny into a small
but elegant room, which was dimly lit by a Tiffany lamp sitting on a large
wooden desk. The room was furnished with a white leather sectional couch,
several wooden chairs, and tables. The walls were decorated with seascape
paintings, some that Karl recognized as works by Winslow Homer. The most
conspicuous decoration was the framed map drawn on old parchment paper on the back
wall above the desk. The high backed red leather chair behind the desk was
turned around, facing the wall.
“Sir,” said the
butler, “he is here.”
The chair turned slowly
around, exposing a striking looking man in a black suit and a red silk scarf,
seated with one leg crossed over the other. He looked to be in his mid forties,
with signs of gray in his otherwise jet black hair. Despite his obvious
maturity, his skin was milky white—the skin of a highly intelligent, highly
sensitive man. His eyes, Karl saw, were like hawk’s eyes—dark and fiercely
penetrating, eyes that showed experience well beyond that of a man in his mid
forties. He was languid in his repose, and there was nothing threatening about
him, other than his dark eyes, and, perhaps, his large white hands, which were
folded comfortably in his lap.
“Good evening,”
said the man in a low, rich, velvety voice that seemed to carry with it the
violence of a tempest at sea. “I’m Captain William Desperteaux. Have a seat.”
Karl sat down in
the wooden chair facing the Captain’s desk. Manny sat down at his side.
“So,” said the
Captain, “Mr...”
“Ransenhoff,” said
Karl. “Karl Ransenhoff.”
“Mr. Ransenhoff. I
hear you have something to tell me. About the pirates of the Beacon?”
“I do,” said Karl,
shifting in his seat. “You see, about five or six months ago, I freed the
pirates of the Beacon on accident. They kidnapped me, and killed my family.
Then they dragged me here in an attempt to get the Treasure of Candoleen. Only,
they’ve been arrested.”
“Have they?” asked
the Captain, who did not seem moved.
“At the casino,”
said Karl. “There was a fight, and some of them were killed. Reginald, and
about ten others are in the jailhouse now.”
“Good,” said the
Captain, smiling slyly. “Let them rot there. They’ll receive a worthy
punishment, I assure you.”
Karl’s heart sank.
Reginald had misjudged the Captain after all.
“But sir,” said
Karl. “They killed my family. I want them executed.”
“Hmm,” said the
Captain, thinking. “I can understand your anger. They are wretched men.
Wretched. Tell me, Karl,” he said, taking a cigarette from a wooden box on his
desk. “Did they tell you about my wife, Envilisa?”
Karl suddenly felt
very nervous. The Captain lit his cigarette and took a drag. “Yes,” said Karl,
“they told me about her.”
“Well,” said the
Captain, smiling, “would you care to meet her?”
Karl swallowed.
“Of course,” he said.
The Captain got
up. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a moment.”
The Captain left
the room, leaving Karl alone with Manny. Karl sat, ringing his hands,
remembering what Reginald had told him about Envilisa. He wracked his brain
trying to figure out a way to avoid being found out, but the best he could come
up with was avoiding Envilisa’s eyes. About five minutes passed before the door
opened, and the Captain, along with a beautiful woman wearing a black gown and
a giant white diamond the size of a softball around her neck, walked in. Envilisa
had striking features—a heart shaped face with pronounced cheekbones and a
pointed chin. Her eyes were dark and feline, painted with midnight blue
mascara, and her long, thick black lashes were curled upward at their tips. When
Envilisa turned her eyes on Karl, a cold chill ran down his spine. “This,” said
the Captain, “is my wife, Envilisa. Envilisa, this is Karl Ransenhoff.” Karl
rose and took her beautiful white hand, which was as cold as the bottom of the
sea, and shook it meekly.
“So,” said Envilisa,
in a voice that was both graceful and menacing, “I hear you have set free the
men of the Beacon. How unfortunate. They kidnapped you, I hear?”
Her eyes, like
whirlpools, seemed to be sucking him in. “That’s right,” said Karl softly, not
able to tear his eyes away from her gaze.
Envilisa smiled a
cold, sinister smile. “Why don’t you come with me, Karl?” she said. “There is
something I’d like to show you.”
Karl and Manny
followed the Captain and the sorceress out the door. They were led through many
large, opulent rooms—high ceilinged rooms with crystal chandeliers and
Victorian furniture. The walls were covered with original paintings by Sargent,
Constable and other masters. They stopped in a room with a tiger-skin rug and a
baby grand piano and stood in front of a large portrait of the Captain and Envilisa
hanging on the wall. The painting was done in the style of the great Victorian
masters, with the Captain seated in his high backed chair, just as Karl had
first seen him, his leg crossed casually over the other, one hand placed below
his chin, the other resting in his lap. The Sorceress stood smiling slyly at
his side in her black velvet dress, one hand placed around the back of the
chair, the Diamond of Candoleen around her neck.
“Beautiful, isn’t
it Karl?” said Envilisa.
Karl nodded. The Captain
walked up to the painting and, reaching up, removed it from the wall. Behind it
was a large steel door with a combination lock. Placing the painting against
the wall, he moved the combination, and opened the door. It was dark inside.
“Go in,” said Envilisa.
Karl stepped into
the darkness, terrified. The Captain and Envilisa followed him. A light was
turned on, and Karl could not believe his eyes. The room was large—larger than
any room Karl had ever seen, and except for a narrow passageway down the
center, every square inch was filled with treasure. Gold was piled in mounds
high to the ceiling. Crates full of diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and pearls lay
strewn about the room, and there were gold statues of jaguars, elephants and
other animals studded with rare gems. Reginald had not exaggerated in his
description. This treasure, Karl thought, was valuable enough to run a small country
by. As he stood in wide eyed amazement, he heard the sound of the door close
behind him. He turned. Envilisa’s eyes caught him in their preternatural gaze.
Suddenly, he felt a great pain in his chest, as if his heart would explode. He
went blind, and fell onto the floor, crying out savagely with pain. He heard
Manny growling, and then begin to squeal as if in torment. “My friend,” said Envilisa,
“it is not wise to lie to a sorceress. I suggest you clear things up as fast as
you can.”
Karl, in an
uncontrolled burst of words, told them the whole truth. The pain went away, and
his vision returned. “Well,” said the Captain to his wife, “what shall we do
with him?”
Envilisa shrugged.
“Give him some gold,” she said, “and send him back to his home.”
“And the pirates?”
asked Captain Desperteaux.
Envilisa once
again smiled her horrible, sinister smile. “Bring them to me.”
Chapter 22: Seizing an Opportunity
A transport was
planned for Karl and Manny the next morning. They would be driven back to the
dock, and taken on a ship back to the States, where Karl would return to his
normal life. Till then, they were locked in a cell in the dungeon beneath the
Captain’s mansion. It was a terribly cramped cell, with a single wooden bunk
and a torch burning outside in the long hall. At first, Karl couldn’t sleep. He
thought of the pirates, and the terrible suffering they would soon have to endure.
He tried to console himself by telling himself that they really deserved it.
After all, had they not slaughtered dozens of innocent people out of sheer
bloodlust and greed? And yet, he knew deep down that they were well-meaning
people. Was it their fault that they were born under cruel stars? He thought of
the Captain and Envilisa. The mere sight of them had inspired in Karl a sense
of dread and revulsion he had never felt about anyone. Surely, they were the
enemies here. He knew that Reginald and the other pirates were still counting
on him, and it was this thought that kept him awake the better part of the
night.
When he awoke in
the morning after a mere two hours of sleep, two large bald men wearing
headsets and black suits were standing over him. “Get up,” said one of the men.
Karl rose quickly from his bed, and looked over at Manny, who was in the
corner, cowering, and looking back and forth at the two imposing men. Karl and
Manny followed the men out of the dungeon to the parking lot at the side of the
house, where a limousine was waiting. One of the men opened the back door and
Karl and Manny got in. As the two large men walked to the front of the vehicle,
Karl again thought of the pirates and what was in store for them. He tried to
muster the courage to escape, but before he found the will, they had already
pulled away. The limo pulled up to the gate, which opened, and they began the
long drive down Beak Hill Road. As they were passing a large factory in a
field, Karl noticed through the front windshield a large armored vehicle
approaching from the opposite direction.
“There they are,”
said one of the large men.
“Boy, are they in
for it,” said the other.
It was as Karl thought.
Within this armored vehicle were the pirates, being transported to the mansion
for their torture at the hands of Envilisa. As the vehicle approached, Karl
imagined to himself the pain that Reginald, Kaloo, and the rest of the men
would soon be put through. He remembered his experiences with them, and felt a
pang of guilt at the thought of leaving them to suffer. He had always wanted to
do something truly heroic. It was something that he had always expected of
himself, perhaps because, deep down, he had always suspected that every
individual was a hero. Only, he felt that he had never proven to himself that
he was. Now was his chance. He summoned his courage, and as the vehicle was
approaching, he opened the side door. “What the Hell?” said the man in the
passenger seat, turning around to watch. Karl jumped out of the car, Manny
following behind him. Karl hit the pavement and rolled over several times,
feeling his head, shoulders, knees and hips getting pounded. Coming to a stop,
and ignoring the pain surging through his body, he stood up, stretching out his
arms in front of him as the vehicle approached. Honking, it swerved, lost
control, and fell onto its side, skidding along the edge of the road and making
orange sparks on the pavement. When it stopped along the edge of the road, Karl
ran up behind the fallen vehicle, and opened the back door. The pirates lay
strewn across the floor of the vehicle, their arms bound behind them in
handcuffs. Karl heard someone cry out to him from behind. “Hold it!” He turned.
The limousine had stopped, and the two men had gotten out. One of them had a
gun. Manny, perhaps following his master’s heroic example, charged at the man.
He raised his gun and fired just as Manny was leaping at his arm. Karl cringed,
but needlessly. The man had missed. Manny bit the man’s arm, and he dropped his weapon. The other man
began to reach for his own gun, but Karl, with the agility of a cat, dove to
the ground, picking up a large stone, and rolled up to his feet. He threw the
stone at the man’s head just as he was aiming his gun. It hit him on the
forehead and he fell to the ground, unconscious. Manny chased away the other
man, who ran across the field at a surprising clip for a man of his size. Karl
went back to the truck. The pirates, wobbly on their feet, were walking out.
“Karl!” cried Reginald. “And to think you weren’t sure you were cut out for the
pirate’s life!” He looked over at the truck lying on its side. “Not exactly how
I’d planned it, I suppose. But then, fate has a mind of its own.”
Karl went to the
front of the truck, and, climbing onto its side, opened the driver door. The
driver lay unconscious. Karl found the keys to the handcuffs in his pocket, and
released the pirates from their bonds. “What a relief!” they said, flexing their
wrists after their handcuffs were removed.
Karl looked over
the men after they had been freed. They seemed more lighthearted than ever. Kaloo
walked over to him slowly. “You,” he said, pointing his finger at Karl’s heart,
“have the heart of a lion.” He smiled. “And an arm of stone.”
Chapter 22: A Final Stand-Off
The men gathered
what weapons they could from the front of the armored vehicle. There were two
shotguns, which Karl gave to Reginald and Kaloo, and two handguns, one in the
glove compartment and one on the driver’s person. Reginald tried to convince
Karl to take one of these, but he refused on the grounds that, with a weapon,
he was exponentially more likely to be shot. After Karl showed Reginald and Kaloo
how to use their weapons, Reginald announced his plan. The plan, to Karl,
seemed outrageous, but possibly (and absurdly) feasible. It was, of course, a
long shot that any of them would survive, but this fact did not seem to dampen
the pirates’ spirits. They sang songs of bloodlust at the top of their voices
the whole way up Beak Hill Road. Karl, disturbed by their singing, walked ahead
of the rest of the men, with Manny by his side. He was extremely nervous. His
armpits were pouring sweat, and the weight of his apprehension was so great
that he felt as if his spine would collapse. He kept looking at Manny, who reassured
him by saying, “We’ll be fine, Karl. Just stay calm.” As he looked at his
shaking hands, Karl thought of his son and granddaughter. He tried to put a
face to the little girl he had never met, and just as soon as her imagined
features presented themselves in his mind’s eye, they were gone, like a warm
summer breeze.
About a quarter
mile from the gate, the pirates entered the grove at the side of the road,
where they wouldn’t be visible as they approached. Karl and Manny, however,
continued on the road to the gate. The same guard that had been on duty
yesterday was there. Karl held up his hand in greeting. The guard did the same.
Then, as Karl came closer, the expression on the guard’s face changed. He
looked unsettled, and it occurred to Karl that he must have known about the
Captain’s plans for him. Then, just as the guard was reaching for his weapon,
the pirates rushed out from behind the trees and opened fire. The guard went
down. Karl ran up to the body, ducking and half expecting to be gunned down by
an unseen guard, and found the key to the gate on the guard’s person. He and
the men went inside. As they approached the entrance to the mansion, two more
guards came running from around the side, with guns in their hands. They took
aim, but Kaloo and Reginald shot them before they could open fire. The pirates,
along with Karl and Manny, went for the main entrance, but it was locked. “Step
aside,” said Reginald from behind. Karl and Manny moved aside, and Reginald
blasted through the lock with his shotgun. “Who needs a key when you have this
wonderful beast?” he said, and kicked in the door. They walked into the
entrance hall. It all seemed too easy.
“The safe is on
the bottom floor,” said Karl, leading the way.
“Yes, ma’ lad,”
said Reginald. “We shall get the treasure soon. But first, we have business
with the Captain and Envilisa.”
“Indeed you do,”
said a woman’s voice behind them. Karl and the pirates turned. Standing there
were the Captain and Envilisa, with sly smiles on their faces. Reginald, Kaloo,
and the two pirates with handguns raised their weapons, but with a wave of her hand,
Envilisa knocked the guns to the ground. Then, with an upward flick of her
wrists, she lifted Karl and the pirates into the air. “So you thought you could
just waltz into the home of Envilisa uninvited, did you?” she said, her voice
full of thunder and irony. “Fools! You should not have returned. Though, I must
admit, there is nothing I have desired more. Ever since I cast that spell, I
have regretted giving you the peace of infinite oblivion instead of infinite
pain. Well, I can’t give you infinite
pain, perhaps. But it will certainly seem like it to you!”
When the sorceress
was finished speaking, she clenched her fists and Karl felt the same horrible
pain he had felt earlier at her hands. The Captain walked up to the men,
inspecting them with malicious delight as they writhed in pain—much like, as
Karl thought, a critic inspecting poorly made paintings on a wall. He clucked
his tongue. “Look at you,” he said. “What are you without your Captain? Just a
band of ragged oafs bumbling your way through a miserable existence. Well, that
existence is about to end, my friends.” Out of the corner of his eye, Karl saw
Manny, who had been standing in the doorway to the entrance hall all the while,
suddenly dash headlong at Envilisa. Noticing the dog, she turned and waved her
hands at him. The spell on the men was released, and they fell to the floor. Before
getting up, Karl looked at Manny, and was shocked by what he saw. He had turned
to stone. Karl didn’t even have time to cry out before Reginald called to him.
“Come along, lad!” he said, getting to his feet. Karl got up, feeling heavy
with the weight of his sorrow, and he and the rest of the men ran into the next
room.
The room they ran
into was large and filled with taxidermy. Buck heads lined the wall, and a
giant grizzly bear stood menacingly in the corner. The room was also,
unfortunately, a dead end.
“Now,” said Envilisa,
as she and the Captain entered the room. “Where were we?”
She raised her
arms, and Karl and the rest of the men were frozen. Karl again began to feel
the pain in his chest. It was like a hand had reached in and taken hold of his
heart, and was slowly tightening its grip. The pain was sharp, but he felt
himself growing faint, and seemed to be losing consciousness. In his mind’s eye
he saw his son, and his granddaughter, and in his heart he began to repent for
his stubbornness, and to say his goodbyes. But then, with all the pangs of
deliverance, his soul gave birth to a new and indefatigable will.
“Wait!” he cried.
The Captain and Envilisa looked at him, their eyes narrow and sharp. “Before
you kill us, let me ask the Captain a question.”
Envilisa looked at
Captain Desperteaux with sly inquisitiveness, and the Captain nodded his
assent. “Very well,” said Envilisa, looking again at Karl. “Speak.”
“It seems very
cowardly of you, Captain,” said Karl, “to stand there and watch as your wife
gets rid of all of your problems. I must say, I’m rather surprised. Reginald
told me you were courageous—the type of man who likes to do his own dirty work.
So, if you really are as brave as I have heard, I have a proposition for you.”
The Captain’s face
betrayed his umbrage. Envilisa also looked offended.
“Fight me,” said
Karl, “and should you lose, you must set us free. Of course, we promise to
leave and never return, and we’ll ask for none of your treasure. I’m sure the
pirates will agree. Isn’t that right, men?”
“Ay!” cried
Reginald. “That’s right. You have our word.”
“You,” said the
Captain smugly, “want to challenge me
to a duel?”
“That’s right,” said
Karl. “A duel to the death.”
The Captain
laughed haughtily. “Very well,” he said, with a look of restrained delight.
“Let it be so. Envilisa, release him.”
Karl felt the pain
in his chest subside, and he was released from the spell. The Captain took down
two swords that were hanging on the wall, and gave one to Karl. Karl held the
sword lightly in his hand, and inwardly he said a prayer: “Lord, whatever skill
I have, let it not fail me now.” The two men faced each other in the center of
the room, and took fighting stances. The Captain smiled as Karl raised his
sword in an impressive stance. “So,” he said, “you have studied the art of
swordsmanship. Let’s see if you have mastered it.” And then, his face taking on
a horrible aspect, he came at Karl in a vicious flurry. Karl blocked him, but
not with ease, and backed away. “Indeed you have skill,” said the Captain, “but
you lack the killer’s instinct. That is something that only comes when one has
spent his entire life laughing in the face of death!” Again, the Captain came
at him, and this time he nearly pierced Karl’s stomach, but Karl was quick, and
the Captain’s blade went into the wall. Seeing his chance, Karl swung at him,
but before he could strike him, the Captain removed his blade and blocked him,
giving him a look of astonishment and terror. Then, in a wave of desperate
fury, the Captain unleashed a series of strikes that baffled Karl. He was able
to block him, but the Captain tripped him, and he fell. The Captain swung his
blade down like an executioner, but Karl rolled and came to his feet, agile as
a cat. He noticed a vase sitting on a table, and the next time the Captain came
at him, he dodged the Captain’s sword, grabbed the vase, and bashed him over
the head with it. The Captain fell, and Karl placed the edge of his blade on
the Captain’s neck.
“Kill him!” cried
Reginald.
Karl looked at the
Captain. There was a look of sheer terror in his eyes. He dropped his sword.
“No,” he said. “I’ve defeated him. I won’t stoop to his level and become a
murderer.” He turned around and faced Envilisa. “Now you have to fulfill your
promise,” he said. “Release them.” Envilisa stared at him, full of wrath. Just
as she was about to speak, Karl heard Reginald’s voice from behind her.
“Karl, move!”
Karl turned around.
The Captain was coming at him with the tip of his blade pointed directly at his
heart. Sensing death, again Karl’s indefatigable will revealed itself, and he
swerved aside. The Captain’s blade went right into Envilisa’s breast. Looking
down at her wound, Envilisa’s mouth fell open and she gasped. She looked up at
her lover with confounded and accusatory eyes. “Envilisa!” the Captain cried,
horror-stricken. Envilisa let out a horrible, piercing cry that sounded to Karl
like the screaming of a thousand eagles. An aura of green light slowly began to
materialize around her figure, and her eyes, once beautiful, now bulged, rolled
back, and turned sallow. And then, the light around her expanded to fill the
room, there was a loud explosion like a bolt of lightning, and she was gone in
a puff of smoke. The Captain, amazed, let out a low, pitiful grunt and fell to
his knees. The pirates, now free of Envilisa’s spell, moved toward him. “Give
me your sword,” said Reginald to Karl. Karl, as if hypnotized, picked up his
sword and handed it to Reginald. But just then, they heard a low melodic hum
coming from where Envilisa had stood. Karl followed the Captain’s frightful
eyes to the Diamond of Candoleen, which lay on the ground, glowing. Then he
heard the Captain begin to gag. He turned, and saw that the Captain’s face,
which had once been so youthful, was beginning to take on a haggard aspect. His
skin began to shrivel. His eyes, as Envilisa’s had, turned sallow, and then
they began to seep out of their sockets, and landed on the floor. The Captain
put his hands to his face, and tried to let out a scream, but to no avail—only
blood flowed from mouth. His flesh slowly turned to dust, and his skeleton lay
motionless on the floor.
Karl realized that
the spell that had been keeping Envilisa and Captain Desperteaux alive had been
broken. As he looked in amazement upon the Captain’s lifeless bones, he heard Reginald
and the pirates celebrating around him. “What a plan!” cried Reginald, slapping
him on the back. “You, my friend, are a regular genius!”
Karl suddenly
remembered Manny. He turned and began to walk toward the other room, full of
hope, and full of doubt. And even before he could walk through the door, there
he was, his old furry self again, wagging his tail and jumping into his arms. “Oh,
Manny!” cried Karl as Manny licked his face. “I thought I’d lost you!”
“I’m here,” said
Manny. “I’m with you. And I always will be!”
Man and beast, as
they had done so many times before—only now with renewed relish—expressed their
love for one another, and the pirates, seeing Manny themselves, redoubled their
celebration.
Chapter
23: Loading the Treasure
After
their celebration of the Captain and Envilisa’s defeat, Karl led the men
through several rooms and down a flight of stairs to the bottom level of the
mansion. There, he found the room with the painting. “This is it,” he said. He
removed the painting from the wall, and he and the men stood looking at the
safe. “This could be a problem,” said Karl. “I don’t know the combination.”
“Try
4-17-4,” said Reginald. “That’s the date we set sail for Kojiwana.”
Karl
turned the knob, and heard a click. The safe came open. They walked in and Karl
found the light, which he flicked on. A collective gasp was heard.
As
the pirates stood staring at the treasure, Karl watched their faces. Their
expressions were indescribable. They radiated joy, like children after
unwrapping a long-desired gift on Christmas morning. Reginald was the first to speak.
“’Tis ours, lads!” he cried. “The Treasure of Candoleen is ours!” He dug his
arms into a mound of gold coins and let them overflow out of his hands. The
other men walked about, astonished, their eyes wide and their mouths agape.
Tears of joy began to flow from Kaloo’s eyes. Karl watched them and for the
first time felt he truly understood who these pirates were. These men, who were
capable of such atrocities, were in fact merely children—children who, with no
regard for societal convention or practical wisdom, had dared to follow an
unlikely dream to its end, and had prevailed.
They
found bags to load the treasure in the stock room, and stole one of the
Captain’s cars to carry it down to the ship. They couldn’t carry all of it in
one trip of course, but after a night and a day of loading, they managed to get
most of it onto the Beacon. During the final loading, near sundown, as Karl was
carrying a bag of treasure up the ramp from the dock to the ship, a young boy walking
along the wharf with his parents saw him and asked him what it was he was carrying.
Karl couldn’t help but smile. “Treasure,” he said. The boy’s mouth fell open,
and his parents smiled at Karl, who smiled back and continued loading.
As
they loaded the final batch, the men sang a raucous song, and Karl thought he
noted a new tone in their voices. It was a tone of contentment.
Gold, rubies, diamonds and pearls,
We have the treasure, so look out girls!
The diamonds we’ve found will look nice on
your ears.
Our wealth will last for a thousand years!
The nights ahead will be filled with joy!
In the finest style we’ll travel the world!
Gold, rubies, diamonds and pearls!
Finally,
when their song was over, Karl spoke up. “Wait a minute, guys,” he said. “You’re
men of the modern world now. You ought to know some modern tunes. Here’s one
you should remember.” He began singing “Baby, You’re a Rich Man,” by The
Beatles. The men looked at him like he was nuts.
When
Karl was finished singing, the men broke out into peels of laughter. “Wait a
minute, lads,” said Reginald. “I kind of like it. How does it go again, Karl?”
Again,
Karl sang the song. This time, all the pirates joined in for the chorus: “Baby
you’re a rich man, baby you’re a rich man, baby you’re a rich man, too. You
keep all your money in a big black book, inside a zoo. What a thing to do!”
“I
love it,” said Reginald, smiling. “Not quite a pirate song. But then, I suppose
we aren’t pirates anymore.” A look of pensiveness came to his face. Then, with
a shrug, he turned away to continue loading the treasure, humming “Baby You’re
A Rich Man” as he went.
Chapter
25: Saying Goodbye
At Karl’s
recommendation, it was decided the Beacon would set sail for Switzerland, where
the men would put their treasure up for auction, split the income, and set up
private accounts. From there, Karl would head home—in fine style. The Diamond
of Candoleen, it was decided, would go to him. He knew that the diamond would
bring him a fortune beyond any of his wildest dreams, but that was the furthest
thing from his mind. He was ready to go home and see his son and granddaughter,
and tell them his wild story (with some parts left out for discretion, of
course). Nearly losing his life several times in the last several months had
given him a healthy dose of perspective, and it was now apparent that whatever
animosity he had felt towards his son had been rooted in selfishness. That selfishness
now cleared away like rainclouds after a violent storm, revealing the bright
impassioned rays of forgiveness.
The men celebrated
the whole way to Switzerland with drink and song. Karl did not partake in any
of the drinking, however. He just stood by with Manny, laughing at the men’s
antics like a father watching over his children at play. The men would often
recount Karl’s various exploits on the journey, from his getting struck by
lightning to his defeating Captain Desperteaux in a duel. Karl just laughed at
these stories, and the men, lifting their drinks in his direction, would toast
him and his good health.
They reached
Switzerland after a week of smooth sailing. The custom’s officials were highly
suspicious, and though Reginald wanted to kill them off, Karl managed to
convince him to pay them off with some of the treasure instead. Needless to
say, with the amount of wealth involved, they were complicit. After this, Karl
and the men set up an appointment with the auction house, and about two weeks
later (a span of time which was spent in lavish excess for Karl and the
pirates) the auction was held. The treasure sold for a total of around thirty
billion dollars, enough to make them overnight celebrities.
After the auction,
Karl spent a week touring Switzerland with the men. They went to the finest
salon in Zurich, where the men were shaved and given the day’s most stylish
haircuts. Then they went to a tailor’s, where they were fitted for the finest
suits money could buy. These men, thought Karl as he gazed at them in their
newfound stateliness, who had once been so ragged and gruff, could now pass for
stockbrokers or business executives, and as they walked the streets and got
looks from the beautiful Swiss women, Karl thought they carried it off
surprisingly well.
Finally, the day
arrived when Karl would disembark for home. He and the pirates smoked Cuban
cigars and drank fine champagne in the stretch limousine they took from the
hotel to the dock. Karl was wearing a new fine-tailored suit with a check for
nearly a billion dollars in his briefcase. The Diamond of Candoleen was in an
indestructible, specially made black case with a gold combination lock, with
his name embroidered in gold plated letters on the front.
When they arrived,
everyone got out of the car and looked up at the grand luxury liner that
rested, towering and majestic, before the swarming dock. Well-dressed men and
women were carrying their luggage up the ramp, and a group of people stood on
deck, waving goodbye to their friends and loved ones. Karl looked at Manny. “It
seems our ship’s come in,” he said.
“Indeed it has,
Karl,” said Manny. “Indeed it has.”
Karl shook each man’s hand, wishing them
good luck and happiness. Kaloo gripped his hand tightly, and the two men for a
moment once again felt the other’s strength bearing down on the other’s. “Next
time,” said Kaloo, “I will beat you.” Karl smiled warmly.
Finally, it was
time to say goodbye to Reginald.
“Well lad,” said
Reginald, showing his newly brightened teeth in a broad smile. “Didn’t I tell
you it would be an adventure?”
Karl nodded.
“You go home and
see your grandchild now,” said Reginald. “And when she’s old enough, tell her
the tale of how you sailed with the pirates of the Beacon, and helped them
regain what was rightfully theirs.” He held out his hand.
Karl looked at
Reginald’s hand—his big, brawny, workmanlike hand—the hand of a man who had
taken many lives, but a hand which he had come to respect nonetheless. Karl
smiled and embraced Reginald, hugging him tightly. “You be good,” he said.
Reginald laughed. “And find yourself a wife.”
“I will, my lad,”
said Reginald. “I will.”
Karl
said his final goodbyes and turned and began to walk up the ramp. Manny stood
still for a moment on the dock, looking at the men and wagging his tail. “Come
on, Manny!” cried Karl. Reginald patted Manny’s head, and the dog licked his
hand. Then, he turned and followed Karl up the ramp. As Karl made his way, he
had the feeling that, though his adventure with the pirates of the Beacon was
coming to an end, the adventure of his life was just beginning. And as he
reached the deck and looked at all the wealthy couples and families milling
about, a smile of gratitude crept over his face. He looked up at the clear blue
sky and basked in the warmth of the sun, which was high overhead.
“Manny,” he said.
“I don’t know about you, but I could use a nap!”
Chapter 26: Arrival
Karl’s ship took
him south through the Atlantic, across the Panama Canal, and then north to San
Francisco. In total, the trip lasted just over two weeks, nearly four times
shorter than it would have taken the Beacon. Karl spent the majority of this
trip lying in the lounge chairs on deck with Manny by his side, soaking up the
rays of the sun and reading a book he had bought in an English language
bookstore in Zurich. The book was the complete poems of Pablo Neruda. Karl had
never really read much poetry, but he had always heard that Neruda was the poet
of the sea, and during his voyage on the Beacon, he had learned to appreciate
the divine mystery of the ocean, and the poetry of Neruda encapsulated that
mystery. Evenings he would take his meals alone, enjoying the gourmet food in a
way he never had before, savoring each flavor and the warmth of a fully
nourished body. Then he would go back on deck to enjoy a cigar and gaze out at
the sea. The thought of what he had been through, and the end result, which, he
felt, was not yet reached but which he anticipated, thrilled him. He’d stay up
well into the night, gazing out at the darkness. Sometimes Manny would look up
at him and say, “Isn’t it time for bed, Karl?” But Karl would just smile, shake
his head and say, “Not yet, Manny. Not yet.” And then the dog would seem to
sigh, and close its eyes to sleep at Karl’s feet.
When Karl’s ship
arrived in San Francisco, he did not go home. Instead, he bought a new, bright
red convertible and drove straight to San Diego to see his son. There was
hardly any traffic on the highway as he drove, and the open road gave him
plenty of time and space to think. He thought mostly about his son. He
remembered when his son was very little, and Karl would bring him to the park
with Linda to watch him swing on the swing set and play with other children. He
had always been such a clever, sociable child. There were never any lengths to
which he wouldn’t go to make his friends happy. Just as this thought crossed his
mind, the radio began to play Chicago’s “Color My World.” This had always been
Linda’s favorite song. They had danced to it at their wedding. Thinking of her
now, he began to feel a swell of emotion. Tears began streaming from his eyes.
He pulled his car over to the side of the highway, and wept as he hadn’t wept
in many years. And as he wept, he realized that this was the first time he had
truly grieved for his wife. He thought of his adventures, and the Diamond of Candoleen,
which sat in its case in the back seat, and he knew now that, wherever Linda
was, she was looking down on him with pride for having taken the step into the
unknown, and triumphed. His tears spent, Karl looked up at the sky. The sun was
just going down on the horizon. It was a beautiful, clear evening. He sighed
deeply.
“Are you OK, Karl?”
Manny asked, licking his cheek.
“Yes, Manny,” he
said. “I am.”
When he finally
arrived at his son’s house, he saw that all the lights were on inside. He
imagined his son and his son’s wife gathered with their young daughter, perhaps
reading a book, or playing a game. Karl got out and took the case with the
diamond inside from the back seat. Manny watched him, looking at the case, as
if he could sense the value of what lay inside. Karl again looked at the sky.
In the twilight, all of the colors seemed to mirror the colors in his soul.
Now, like an artist ready to display his masterpiece, he felt fear and
exhilaration. He thought of all the years he had spent alone in his little
shack, all those books he had read. It seemed like a dream to him. He had a
real story to tell now—his story, and it was twice as magical as any he had
ever read in any book. Would they believe him? He wondered. But perhaps it
didn’t even matter. He would shower them with love, and that, he thought, was
something that could not be denied.
He and Manny went up the walkway and
onto the porch. Karl stood for a moment, hesitant. He looked down at Manny.
“What are you
waiting for?” Manny asked.
Karl smiled.
Nothing. He had no need to wait anymore. His life was beginning all over again,
at the age of sixty-five. He never felt more alive, or more worthy of being
alive. “Well,” he said, “here goes nothing.” He knocked on the door.
Chapter 27: Home
Karl’s son
answered the door and his mouth fell open at the sight of his father. He was
dressed in a silver button-down shirt, black pants, and black framed glasses. Like
his father, he was handsome—tall, with silvered black hair, and an intelligent
face. David looked at his father with wide, questioning eyes.
“David,” said
Karl. He looked down at the ground, embarrassed. “I’ve come to tell you
that...I’m sorry. You were right about everything. I was messed up, for a long
time. I needed help, and I...”
“Daddy!” A young
girl with sandy blonde hair came running towards David from the other room,
wrapping her arms around her father’s leg. She saw Manny and her face
brightened. Manny approached her, and licked her hand. She laughed. Then she
looked up at Karl. Her eyes were dark, and wondrous. “Who’s this man?” she
asked her father.
“This,” said
David, smiling, “is your grandfather.”
Karl
smiled warmly at his granddaughter. “Hello, Sarah!” he said, waving. Sarah
shied behind her father’s leg, sucking her thumb. Karl looked back up at David,
and the two men looked at each other for a long time. In David’s calm, handsome
face was the tender look of bountiful and redemptive forgiveness. He nodded.
“Come
in,” David said. “Make yourself at home.”
Karl
and Manny joined David and his family in the living room. David’s wife,
Theresa, was overjoyed to see Karl. She grabbed his face and placed a warm kiss
on his cheek, and embraced him. “Karl,” she said. “It’s been too long.” Karl
placed the case with the Diamond of Candoleen on the coffee table. “I have a
surprise for you all,” he said, and opened the case. David and Theresa gasped.
His granddaughter stood in wide-eyed amazement. “What is it?” she cried,
touching the large white diamond.
“That,” said Karl,
“is the Diamond of Candoleen.”
“Where on Earth
did you get it?” said Theresa.
“Let’s sit down,”
said Karl, “and I’ll tell you.” Theresa brought in tea and they sat down to
listen to Karl’s story. When he was finished telling them how he had released
the men of the Beacon and joined them on their quest, David and Theresa sat
silent for a long time, staring at the diamond. “I really can’t believe it,”
said David, breaking the silence. “But I suppose I have no choice. If you say
it happened as it did, well, then I suppose it must be true.” Karl was
delighted. His granddaughter ran over to him, laughing, and he lifted her into
his arms.
Theresa prepared a
late meal for Karl, and the child was put to bed. The three adults sat up most
of the night, talking about Karl’s adventures. Karl gave them a full account of
what had happened, and Karl’s son and his wife listened raptly, cringing when
he told them about his bout with crabs, and ringing their hands in suspense at
Manny’s battle with the mastiff.
“You ought to
write a book,” said Theresa when Karl was done telling his story. “It would be
a best-seller.”
Karl laughed. “I
don’t think I’ll need the money,” he said, and gazed at the diamond as it
shimmered in the light.
Epilogue
Karl stayed with
his son for about a week, and then went and sold the Diamond of Candoleen to
the Smithsonian for a total of 1.2 billion dollars. With the money he had, he
bought a large home in San Diego on the beach, and invited his son and family
to stay with him. They gladly accepted. There he spent his days, watching his
granddaughter grow into a beautiful young woman. He set up a trust fund for her
in hopes that she would receive the highest level of education. Most of the
money he gave to charity—primarily to cancer research organizations, in honor
of his late wife. When Manny died three years later, he had his body cremated
and scattered his ashes in the sea. He lived out his old age in complete peace,
writing his memoirs about his adventures aboard the Beacon. He often received
letters from Reginald and the other pirates, which he read with keen interest
and delight. Reginald had become mayor of a small town in Connecticut, and Karl
was happy to hear that he had found a wife. Karl continued to sleep very
little, but his mind remained sharp and his body healthy. After his memoir was
published, he began to receive a great deal of fan mail, and often curiosity
seekers would come to talk to him. He would always treat these people with the
utmost respect, and indulged them in all of their questioning. Every evening he
would take a walk along the beach with his family. One night, Karl continued
walking long after his family had gone back to the house. He walked the entire
night, listening to the sound of the sea, watching the tides change by the
light of the moon and stars. And as he walked, a question began to form in his
mind, a question which as of yet he could not put into words. But when the
first rays of morning light began to glint on the Eastern horizon, the question
became clear, and so too, simultaneously, did the answer. Who was he, and what
did his life mean? The sea, which had always seemed to be calling to him, now
seemed to be laughing, and so too did his heart. He was a man with a restless
spirit that would never stop wandering, and his life, like the stars above—which
were beginning to fade—was an endless series of lights to be looked upon and
cherished by all those who would otherwise would be in darkness. And he knew,
when the sun was high and the stars no longer visible, they would still be up
there, burning with the passion of a life well lived, forever.
Often he’d stay
out on the beach until sunrise, watching the tides change by the light of the
moon and stars. One night, as he sat alone, dreaming of Linda and Manny, Reginald,
Kaloo, and the other pirates, a question began to form in his mind. A question
which as of yet he could not put into words. But, as the first glint of morning
light appeared in the East, the question became clear. And so, too,
simultaneously, did the answer. Who was he, and what did his life mean? It was
so simple. He was a restless soul that would never stop wandering, and his
life, like the stars which were beginning to fade, was a light to be looked
upon, and cherished by those who would come after. And when the sun rose, and
the stars were no longer visible, he knew that they were still up there,
burning, waiting for the dark of night to give hope to those would otherwise be
in darkness once again.
