Tales of the Barnacle

Copyright © 2016 by G. D. Haverland.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2016908866

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5245-0541-7

      Softcover      978-1-5245-0540-0

      eBook         978-1-5245-0539-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

(Err it be the cat ‘o nine tails fer ye!)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 06/07/2016

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Contents

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Ahoy to ye shipmates and land lubbers.

In this tale of adventure, I endeavored to blend a wee bit of historical fact with imagination. Though the story is fictional, I tried to convey a small feeling of those days and some who lived them, as I understand them, with a bit of a lighthearted twist. Some places like Rupert Island do not exist, not under that name at any rate, nor does the monastery. The captain and crew of The Barnacle and The Etarip, and other ships are fictional, as are the Governor and Assistant Governor of the Carolinas. This was done for the sake of the story. Though characters such as Barrow, Hornigold, Rackham, and others did exist. As well places like Hole in The Wall, Cat Island, Rum Cay and others mentioned in the story.

So sit ye down n ‘ave a good reed. I bid a fair wind and follerin sea t’ ye all.

300 BCE Greeks coin the term ‘Peiratēs’ ‘one who attacks’ aka, ‘PIRATE’.

A ugust 25, 1714; 4 bells of the night watch, (10:00 PM of the clock,) the anchor strikes water and lines are set.

Keep a sharp eye lad. Slacken as she rises Captain Daniel Quillian called up from the wharf as lines were set.

Aye Capt’n The lad proudly replied.

And tighten ‘er she fall.

Aye sir. That I will.

Do ya no’ think ya be given ‘im too much sir? His first mate cautioned.

Martin McCleary was a bull of an Irishman with flaming red hair, and a beard he kept well trimmed. He signed up with Daniel on his first Privateer voyage six years ago in Jamaica as a boson’s mate, and quickly became chief bo’s’n. He soon was more than a friend to Captain Daniel, and became his closest confidant. Daniel spoke with him on things he didn’t even talk to Quartermaster Paul Dufý about, who had been with him three years longer.

I think no.’ the tall English captain replied. ‘He be thirt’en come Friday. Time ‘e take on more responserbility.’ he replied. Then calling back up to the lad with a grin, left index finger raised and shaken in warning ‘And no drinkin’ mind ye.

Aye Capt’n. Nary a drop. little Michael chuckled back.

’Ere’s a good lad.

I still think ya be bringin ‘im along too fast sir. Iffin ya don’t mind me sayin.

Perhaps I do, and don’t mind a’tall. Is what I keep ya round fer Martin.’ he laughed, slapping his first mate solidly on the back. ‘Me own conscience be times too shy t’ speak. ‘Sides. Thomas‘ll be there all while t’ keep a close eye on ‘im.

The crew had taken quite a shine to young Michael when they first pulled him from the sea after a storm some three year back. They found him floating in a jumble of debris off Bermuda, nursed him back to good health, and after serving aboard as cabin boy for three months, he refused to leave when they reached Port Royal Jamaica. He’d run from an orphanage work house in Sussex, and stowed away on a merchant vessel bound for the colonies. It never made it. All he knew was that he was born sometime in the spring, or maybe summer, and was nine or ten years of age when they plucked him from the waters. So they set his birthday on the same day they hauled his wet carcass on deck. August the twenty-eighth, 1701.

He learned fast, and put hand to every task he could, from cabin boy to standing watch in the foretop, and climbed the shrouds like a monkey. And Thomas, ‘Ol’ Thom’ to the crew, took the boy under his wing to show him the ropes as it were. The boy showed good timber after being wounded in the leg by a piece of grapeshot that first year, showing little sign of pain, and gave no complaint. The crew soon found they could hardly do without him, nor had they wish to do so. He picked a small mandolin out of the crews discards of a Spanish merchant that second year, and in time, played well enough.

This was their first time in this particular port, and knew little of those they would have to deal with. They were met by the dock master escorted by two armed men in heavy blue uniforms, and requested, though not so politely, to sign in the name of their ship and its captain. They’d heard roomers of this new governor from locals of a little spit of an island to the nor-east when they last stopped to refresh their water casks, so were on guard. But not to be questioned further as to their purpose, cargo, and the like was puzzling.

Thankfully they had an in. Jason Dartmon was born not far from there, and although he’d been away for some years, he still had some familiarity with several of the locals. The innkeeper of The Silver Anchor Inn for starters, which was their first call in this sleepy little harbor. Plodding through the dim streets as a light rain began to fall, was both welcomed and cursed. Though it did moderately well to flush out the reek of the dung and swill covered streets, it brought a new chill to the bones. And once off the main road from the harbor, which was the only cobble-paved street there was, the rain turned the bare roads into little more than mud tracks.

It was nigh on midnight when they reached the Silver Anchor Inn, and entering the odd structure, they were greeted by a parrot chanting ‘Piece of eight, welcome aboard.’ Which he repeated twice more as they entered till the door closed. Jay led them to an out-of-the-way table near the counter, and the back door. There were few patrons at this hour, so it wasn’t long before the proprietor approached their table. He was a stout man that looked to be more at home in the smoky confines of a smithy than behind the counter of a less than stately inn.

And what fer can I do ye gents? he grumbled wiping his hands on a corner of his grease and beer stained apron.

Three bowls of the stuff you calls barley soup,’ Jay began, ‘soda bread wit sweet butter, dark ale, n’ the keys to the palace.

The keys to the…’ Pauley sputtered, then bent low to get a better look at this whelp under the broad brimmed hat. Early twenties, dark hair, well built, a small scar across the bridge of his nose… ‘No. Can it be? Damn my eyes if I’ ain’t! Lil Jay! Not seen ya in ages. An’ no’ so little I’d say.

How be ya Pauley?

Fine lad. Fine as angel ‘air. Who be yer friends lad?

More ‘n friends Pauley. Capt’n Daniel Quillian ‘ee be, n first mate Martin McCleary. We c’n speak of things further when ya brings the vitments. he grinned.

I be doin bet’r than barley swill.’ he replied with a wide grin. ‘Welcome ‘ome Jason. and giving Jay a smart slap on the shoulder, vanished somewhere behind the counter.

Moments later, the bar maid, perhaps twenty, brought them each a pint of ale as dark as the streets that wound their way through this beleaguered edge of town. She was calmly to look upon with sassy red hair, flashing green eyes, and walked with a confidant, if not defiant, stride. There was something about her Jason just couldn’t put his finger on. No sooner than she set the ales before them, she turned and vanished behind the counter.

When asked several weeks ago about anchoring here, Jason spoke of an open port that accepted anyone so long as they held their peace, brought in trade, and kept their revelry to the east side where they were now. Though the moment they entered New Barrow Harbor, they noticed that feeling was as far away as Davey Jones himself. They wondered about signing in and not being charged, or even questioned upon docking. Though they were looked over quite closely by the men at post between the wharf and the main avenue of Kern’s Lane. And one could hardly swing a ditty bag on Main Street without hitting one of Her Majesty’s men. Those in blue seemed to be restricted to the harbor, while red and gray coats wandered the streets. The farther they had stepped into this burg, the gloomier the feeling became. There was a heavy feel to the air with the threat of some dire event boiling just below the surface. They sat quietly sipping their ale till Pauley and the lass arrived with their meal on wooden platters. Pauley was pleasant enough, but the lass’s manner was as guarded and uneasy as those few they saw in the dark streets. And with nary a word, and somewhat bitter glance toward Jason, she again turned and vanished into the kitchen.

What gives Pauley?’ Jason quietly asked. ‘This be not the place I left eight yearn ago.

Nor near as eight months back lad.’ he replied taking a quick glance about, then a cautious seat at the end of the table. ‘Tis this new gov’nor lad. He and ‘is men be slippin a noose round the whole of all Rupert Island. The first thing he did was throw Governor Bowden in jail. They tried ‘im for treason in the matter of, misappropriation of funds, and knowingly engaging with pirates, and hung ‘im the same week. An’ three others with ‘im. One of ‘em were old Tobe. And if ‘e were a pirate, I’m the bloomin King of England. He’s raised new taxes, limited travel, n restricted traffic in n out a port. I’m sure ya noticed ‘ow easy it were to tie up, no questions asked? Just sign in?

Aye, we did that. Martin replied.

You’ll not ‘ave so easy a time departin. That I’ll warrant ya. Any can enter, but there be a charge fer leavin. As much as one third yer cargo. Those who can’t, er refuse to pay, they and their ship be seized, lest they sign a charter swearin service t’ him. Our esteemed Governor, Andrew Munford. And mind ya, be ya pirate or no, he’ll brand ya the same iffin he gets a feelin to, and believes he can get away with it. As there be none to appose ‘im. Or so ‘e thinks.

Well!’ Martin jokingly began; ‘Seems the biggest pirate in these ‘ere waters, be in the Gov’nor’s chair.

Mind yer tongue man.’ Daniel scolded. ‘We abides by a code, though a bit loose it may be. Where seams the Gov’ write ‘is own. I’ll count ‘im not among the brother’ood.

Surely ‘es not the Queen’s sanction.’ injected Martin. ‘Not that I care a wit to what ‘er royal arse does or not approve. Still…

"What sanction? And it not be the King who appointed ‘im, but the gov’nr of Jamaica. I’m sure t’was done to be rid of ‘im. Every six months he sends a report, and tribute to Jamaica. Though the report be fact only in ‘is mind, and the tribute be not all he collects, to be sure. The man’s a clubfooted fool when it comes to administrative duties, but a good chess player putting one again another. He’s quite mad. The man be evil itself. Plague rot ‘im. Were the Queen not failed of ill humors…‘od keep her.

Do they know of Shadow Bay? Jason asked.

Nay. And good thing too. Strange ya should ask.

Why be that? Capt’n. Daniel inquired

There be revolt in the sands lads, and the tide be risen if ya catch my drift.

Not the full force of it. But I think I see yer headin sir. Tell more. Daniel replied.

Ya heard Jay here speak o’ Shadow Bay. Was, and still is at times, a rumrunner’s hide. Well, there be three ships with over two hundred stout hearted lads awaitin the word, and a militia on the north of town, primed and ready. We plans on …

Just then the door banged open and two men of the ‘Red Coat’ strode in with an ill look about them. And to their displeasure being cued by the color of their coats, the parrot chimed; ‘Abandon ship, abandon ship’. Muskets at the ready and ignoring the feathered nuisance, they approached the counter as though they owned the place. Demanding hot barley beef and ale, they glanced about the dim confines of the tavern, but quickly turned their attention to the young lady as she appeared behind the counter. Pauley quickly joined her, and with mock joviality took their order, and busied himself with its preparation. It was an uneasy passage of time while they leisurely took of their meal. But at length, they departed for more demanding duty. A few moments later, Daniel and party were joined by Pauley and three men who had kept to a dark corner.

Many on the island are primed for revolt.’ Pauley continued. ‘There be also nearly two hundred good men scattered about town awaitin dawns first light, and the ringin of the church bell.

Seems we’ve little choice in the matter iffin we wishes to leave with all out parts, so any ‘and we can put to it, we shall. Daniel assured him.

You have a good ship, and I’m sure as good a crew, but ya can’t win much with such a skiff. No offence mind ya.

None taken.’ Daniel replied. ‘And so’s ya know, that not be our ship, but what little thing we, acquired. Our ship be The Barnacle. A two masted brig, manned and well armed, under watch of my navigator. A hot-blooded Spaniard by name o’ Christopher. It lies off the coast in coral bay with orders, that iffin we not be heard from by dawn, he’s to sail in, guns a’the ready. We ‘eard tell, not all be fair weather here when we ‘eld over at Samana Cay fer water.

"We’ve covered all points ‘cept’n one.’ one of the three injected. He was a short square built man with a ragged upturned ‘y’ shaped scar from his brow down his left cheek, his eye socket a sunken and twisted mass of flesh. ‘We be week on the north end o’ the port.