Mulligan stroked his beard. “And what does this David Tanner be lookin’ like?”
“A finger short of two legs tall, young, blonde, and strong. He wears his hair long, and he has a scar going from his right eye to his mouth. Leave him alive, you are free to take the gold and retire. Kill him, and we will find you again and you will… how do you fellows say it? Dance the hempen jig.”
Mulligan smiled. “What do ye say, lads?”
One hundred and fifty voices shouted “AYE!” in unison.
“Commodore Donegal, I do believe we be havin’ an accord.”
The pirate extended his hand through the bars, which Donegal shook.
The twenty five guards hurried down the stairs and stood at attention.
Donegal nodded to the jail keeper. “Captain, you shall find your clothes and weapons on your ship. We’ve stocked you with two weeks of provisions and the Griffon is ready to set sail. Time is of the essence, so you must sail within the hour.”
“Aye!” Mulligan said as the jail keeper unlocked and opened his door. “Come on, lads! There’s piratin’ ta be done!”
* * * * * * *
Fyke walked along the deck of the Waverunner, making sure the crew were doing their jobs and offering assistance when needed. Dunkirk had the crew working like a well oiled miller’s wheel, making everyone’s job easier. He spotted David Tanner at the jib, staring off into the horizon, as he usually was. He decided to pay the young Yeoman a visit.
“Evening, David.”
Tanner jumped a bit, startled. “Oh, hi Corwyn. Sorry, I didn’t hear you sneak up on me.”
“Seen anything today?”
“Just a guild ship, The Inferno, that was about to cross our path. It spotted our colors, reefed its sails and dropped anchor until we had passed.”
Corwyn smiled. “Ah, if only they did that all the time for us.”
“I doubt they do that for their own members.”
“The Inferno, isn’t that Ferndock’s ship?” Corwyn asked.
David nodded. “That man is insane. Had we not been carrying the gold for the bank, he probably would have attacked. Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t anyway against Gaeceric’s orders.”
“Gaeceric would have strung him up by the balls using garrote wire.”
“I suppose,” David said. “But I’ll bet it still chapped his ass to be forced to let us go.”
A couple of dolphins jumped playfully in front of the ship’s keel, alternating which one was in the water and which one was airborne.
Fyke laughed. “Hey Davey, check out those two fish!”
“Dolphins aren’t fish, Corwyn. They are mammals. See that hole on the top of their head? They breathe through it. They don’t lay eggs like other fish; the mother gives birth directly to her calves. They also drink their mother’s milk.”
“Oh, come on, Tanner. How could you know that?”
David shifted uncomfortably. “I told you, my father had me educated.”
“So if they are mammals, can they be trained like dogs?”
The young Yeoman shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
Corwyn grinned. “Maybe after I retire, I’ll see about setting myself up as a dolphin trainer. People would pay a few silver to see a trained dolphin jump through hoops and such, wouldn’t they?”
David considered it for a few second. “I suppose they would! Although the care of the dolphins would be fairly tedious. Plus you would have to have a number of them trained. If one were to die or get sick, it would be important to keep the show going.” David looked over at Fyke. “Why, is it something you are seriously considering?”
“Nah. Not any time in the near future. My place is here, at sea, beside Captain Karinga.”
David returned his gaze to the horizon. “Still, it might be something to consider if the captain ever retired.”
Corwyn chuckled and slapped David on the back. His duty time was almost up, and he was going to get some grog. He never walked away from David Tanner without learning something new.
* * * * * * *
Black Jack Mulligan stomped in his boots around the deck of the Griffon. After four months of captivity, it was great to be back at sea. He spent the last three days getting his sea legs, but he was now back to his old self.
He ran his hand across the surface of the mainmast. For twenty two years, he had been captain of the Griffon. He remembered the day like it was yesterday that he took command. The Gylinian Navy had a reputation for cruelty towards undisciplined sailors, but he had signed on anyway when he turned fifteen. For five years he had worked his fingers to the bone, avoiding all punishment. Then one night, his best friend was five minutes late for his watch. The captain ordered him keelhauled. When they brought him up an hour later, the many cuts left by the barnacles on the side of the ship and made the sharks come calling. His friend was dead, with massive chunks of flesh ripped from his body. Mulligan started the mutiny, and before he knew it, the ship was his. On that night, the legend of Black Jack Mulligan was born.
“Coming up on Port Cauldwell, Captain!” the first mate called.
Mulligan shook himself out of his thoughts. “Aye, Mr. Yates! Strike the colors and take us into the port. Let’s be seein’ if’n the Waverunner beat us here.”
The deck became a flurry of activity as the crew performed their individual tasks to slow the massive ship. The colors came down, the sails were brought down, and the rudder turned to take them into the harbor.
Mulligan pulled out his looking glass and scanned the nine ships at the docks. None of them were the Waverunner. “Looks like we beat them here, lads!”
The crew cheered.
“Mr. Yates, set course for River’s End! I want someone up in the crow’s nest every minute of every day until we find that ship!”
* * * * * * *
The officers of the Waverunner sat around the table in their mess at lunch time, picking at their plates of Salt-pork and brewis, another one of Doc’s many faces of hardtack.
“Dunkirk, what is the mood of the crew?” Karinga asked.
“They have been a might skittish these past four days,” the boatswain answered. “Everyone will breathe a lot easier once we put into Port Cauldwell tomorrow night.”
David sighed. “I really don’t know what everyone is so worried about. I mean, my God! Even Ferndock let us pass!”
“Tanner, it is stressful to them. They are terrified of indentured servitude if anything happens to the gold,” Dunkirk explained. “Besides, there was a red sky this morning.”
The young Yeoman shook his head and tore off a piece of salt pork. “Sailors and their superstitions. In a day and a half, we shall be enjoying our biggest payday yet.”
They went back to quietly eating their meal, when there was a quick knock on the door. Doc opened it, his eyes wide with worry. “Captain, ship dead ahead.”
Dunkirk glared at Tanner. “Superstitions, huh?”
“Coincidence. It is probably just another cargo ship.”
Fyke got up and made his way out onto the deck. It was high noon and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so he had to shield his eyes and let them adjust to the glaring light.
He walked over to Karinga, who was standing at the jib, staring through the looking glass. “That is awfully big to be a cargo ship. It is right in our path. Corwyn, tell the helm to go twenty-five degrees port.”
Fyke turned and yelled “Twenty-five degrees port!”
“Twenty-five degrees port, aye!” the helmsman yelled back.
The ship lurched a little as it altered course, taking it out of the direct path of the unknown vessel. The entire crew stood nervously, waiting to see what the other ship would do. Every second seemed like an eternity as they waited.
“She’s altered course! Looks like she is intent on intercepting us!” Karinga told Fyke. “Let’s not let the crew know just yet. I don’t want them to panic.”<
br />
“Aye, Captain,” Corwyn replied.
They waited, watching the ship become bigger on the horizon. David Tanner had joined them, as had Edge.
“Any idea who they are, Captain?” Edge asked.
“Not yet. I see their flag, but I can’t make it….” All the color drained from Karinga’s face. “Oh dear God. It’s Black Jack Mulligan!”
“It’s Black Jack Mulligan,” Edge yelled. The crew immediately began to panic.
Corwyn’s stomach twisted into knots. Black Jack Mulligan, the most feared pirate to sail the Decian Sea in generations! No one ever escaped him, and he left none of the crew alive.
“Can we outrun him?” Corwyn asked.
“Doubtful,” David replied. “He has a four mast ship, and look at the narrow build. They build ships like that up in Scandinavia. They are made for speed and ramming.
Despair washed over Corwyn’s soul as their last hope of survival had been dashed. He looked down and shook his head.
The captain put his hand on his first mate’s shoulder. “We may die, but we are going to take as many of those pirates with us,” Karinga said.
Fyke looked up as the Griffon moved closer. “Well, at least I got to eat at that Macedonian restaurant before I died.”
David’s eyes went wide. “Macedonian! Fyke, you’re a genius! Captain, I have an idea! Send someone to fetch forty of those decorative shields we are carrying. Bring one to me.”
The captain nodded. “Corwyn, I’ll send Dunkirk to fetch the shields. You try to calm the crew.”
“Don’t worry,” David assured him. “We will make it through this. I’ve never let you down in the past, have I?”
Corwyn nodded. “I trust you, David.” He walked over to the forecastle rail and shouted “Everyone calm down! David’s got a plan! He assures me that we will get through this! Calm down, return to your post!”
“What’s he got?” a crewman asked. “He’s the one who got us into this bloody mess!” The crew murmured with agreement.
“I don’t know, but he’s never let us down. Trust me, if David says we’ll get through this, and then know that in a day and a half, you’ll have more money in your pockets than you know what to do with!”
The crew gradually began to calm. Dunkirk made his way up the forecastle ladder carrying one of the large round shields.
“Captain said you needed this,” he said, handing the shield to David.
“Thanks, William.” David walked next to the first mate holding the shield. “Men, with these shields, we will stop the Griffon it its tracks.” He looked over to the stern of the ship and saw the ship’s cook. “Hey Doc!” he yelled.
“Aye?”
David angled the highly polished inside of the shield so it caught the sun and reflected it into Doc’s eyes.
“Ack! I’m blind!” Doc yelled, covering his eyes.
“Why did you blind Doc?” Corwyn asked.
“He’s not blind; it will wear off in a few seconds.” David got down on his hands and knees and examined the shield. He measured it using his arm, then checked the angle of the curve. He pulled out a piece of charcoal and began scrolling on the deck.
“What are you writing, David?” Corwyn asked.
“I’m trying to calculate the focal point of the shield.”
Corwyn looked at the writing confused. “Math has letters?”
“They are called variables. You substitute numbers in later.”
“What’s that?” Corwyn asked, pointing to a symbol he’d never seen before.
“It’s called a square root.”
Fyke scratched his head. “Squares have roots? Like turnips?”
“Please, Corwyn, I need to think. Go and make sure that everyone on the ship has a shield. Then instruct the helm to turn port sixty-five degrees, reef sails, and drop anchor.”
Fyke’s eyes went wide. “David, that will expose our broad side to their ram!”
“I know. You have to trust me.”
“You are asking quite a lot, my boy.” Fyke climbed down one of the two ladders that led from the forecastle to the main deck. The ship was alive with activity as the crew ran about their respective duties. The sun caught Corwyn in the eyes as he ran past a pile of the round silver shields. He looked around and found the captain up by the helm. He quickly ran up the stairs to the quarterdeck.
“What’s the word, Corwyn?” the captain asked.
“David wants us to turn the ship sixty-five degrees to port! Part of his plan having something to do with the shields!”
Karinga nodded. “Helm, you heard him. Sixty-five degrees to port!”
The helmsman stared at the captain with disbelief. “Captain , you can’t be serious!”
“I gave you an order, mister! Carry it out!”
“Captain, a word,” Corwyn said. The captain and he walked out of earshot of everyone else. “Are you sure? You are putting an awful lot of trust into a plan that I simply can’t fathom. What is he going to do? Blind the Griffon’s crew? That ain’t much of a plan, sir!”
Karinga glanced over at David. He was scratching his head and scribbling on the deck. “Corwyn, as of this moment, we are all dead. Unless someone else has a better idea, I am going to give that lad a chance to save us. He has never let us down in the past, and I don’t think he will this time.”
Fyke gave a resigned sighed. “Aye captain.”
Jax slapped him on the shoulder. “Go see what he needs. Don’t worry, my old friend.”
Corwyn ran down the stairs, dodging crewmen, and made his way back up to the forecastle. “Figured anything yet, David?”
“X equals forty! He has to be forty legs from us, then we’ll be able to stop him dead in his tracks!” The young Yeoman stood up. “Fyke, give everyone a shield and have them stand along the starboard rail.”
* * * * * * *
Mulligan stood at the jib, watching the small ship turn to expose its broad side to him. He stared disbelievingly as they reefed their sails and dropped anchor.
His first mate walked up beside him, noticing his puzzled look. “Captain?”
“I don’t get it, Yates. Why in the bloody hell would they be turnin’ their broadside ta us? They dropped anchor, but haven’t struck their colors! I don’t reckon they be thinkin’ of surrendin’, so what the blazes is they up to?”
“Shall we break out the bows, sir?” Yates asked.
“No, Mr. Yates. We might be hittin’ that there David Tanner fellow. Gads! It looks like they be linin’ up along the rail!”
The large pirate continued to stare in disbelief at the nonsensical actions of the crew of the Waverunner.
* * * * * * *
“Alright, everyone, quite down!” Tanner yelled.
All conversation on the ship stopped and everyone looked to the young Yeoman.
“When the Griffon is forty legs from us, I want everyone to angle their shields so that it reflects the sun onto a single point of her main sail, preferably low. Do you all understand?”
“What good will that do?” Dunkirk asked.
David smiled mischievously. “You’ll see. Here everyone, follow my lead!” He set the shield on the rail so the front of it was facing him. He tilted it back and angled it straight ahead. A small white dot appeared on the Griffon’s main sail. “Right about there, lads!” he yelled.
The main sail of the Griffon looked to come alive as forty white dots danced chaotically around its dull surface. Slowly, they coalesced into a single blindingly white spot.
“Keep them still as best you can, lads!” Tanner yelled.
As the Griffon got closer, the dot began to shrink. Black smoke started to rise as the ship reached the forty leg mark. The crew practically held their breath as the seconds ticked by.
“Any second now…” David said to Corwyn, who was standing to his left.
Suddenly, the sail burst into flames! The fires quic
kly engulfed the entire sail and spread to the rigging. Ropes snapped as the crew of the Griffon ran around frantically in chaos. Another sail caught fire, then another. Finally the main mast started to burn.
The crew of the Waverunner cheered as they cast their shields aside. He had done it! The Griffon was dead in the water, and most likely soon headed to a watery grave.
David sighed. “Thank you Archimedes.”
“Who’s that?” Fyke asked.
“A Macedonian mathematician.”
“Well, if I ever meet him, I’m going to buy him a pint of ale!” Corwyn said.
David couldn’t help but chuckle. “My friend, he’s been dead for centuries.”
“Captain, they’re lowering the lifeboats! Looks like they are still going to try to board us!” Quenton yelled.
David smiled. “This one is going to be a lot easier.” He cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled to the crew. “Anyone who has a good throwing arm and good aim, come here! Dunkirk, have some crew bring up one of the bolts of cloth and six cases of the whiskey!
* * * * * * *
“Get the bloody buckets up ‘ere, ye bloody stupid Jack-tars! We can’t be let’n the fires catch on the bloody deck!” Black Jack Mulligan stormed around the deck of the burning Griffon, shouting orders and trying to reign in the Chaos.
“Captain, the sails are a total loss,” Yates reported. “I recommend we deploy the life boats and abandon ship!”
A punch met the first mate’s stomach. “Damnit, Yates! We won’t be leavin’ the Griffon here ta burn! We put out the damn fires, take the lifeboats over n’ capture that damn ship, then we find out which one of those bastards is the damn pyromancer an’ hang ‘im up by his entrails!”
Mr. Yates tried to compose himself, in spite of the dull pain in his gut. “Sir, do you have a plan to get us back to the Cove?”
“Aye! We’ll put thirty men on the Waverunner and tow the Griffon! Now ye get over to the port side an’ tell them bastards they are goin’ to row towards the Waverunner, an’ if one of those bloody scallywags turns towards shore, I’ll make them eat their own bloody lips!”
“Aye aye, Captain!” The first mate ran over to the port side of the ship.
Mulligan went starboard towards a group of twenty men preparing a lifeboat, drawing his saber. “Oy, ye got grapples in that boat?”