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ALL WRITTEN TEXT IS COPYRIGHT (c) 2009 BY TED ANTHONY ROBERTS. NOTHING WRITTEN HEREIN OR TITLES MAY BE DUPLICATED WITHOUT PERMISSION.

 

 

CAPTAIN SKULL

 

A Swashbuckling, Romantic Adventure

by: Ted Anthony Roberts

 

 

 

Chapter 1

Meet Captain Skull

 

My name is Sir Charles of Riley, and I was a lad of only seven and a half years when I first remember hearing the infamous name of Captain Skull. "He is nothing more than a Tyrant!" I had heard. "An eight foot tall Tyrant." And this is all I remember hearing about the captain from my youth - a Tyrant! But later I was to realize that none of the exaggerated statements about the captain were true. He was certainly no Tyrant! And as far as his great height was concerned, he only reached that of six feet. And how should I know this, one may curiously ask? I happen to have been in the great captain's service for nearly ten years, and I lack only a few inches of reaching his presumed un-reachable height. I am proud to recall, as I am reminiscing of those former glorious days, that I was not too far from the captain in rank. I would say first mate, but that would be an awkward statement, seeing as there was another who always stood with the captain and me upon the main deck of our ship. This other man, my near ranking officer friend, who was by birth (and noticeably by his dignified mannerism) a full-blooded Frenchman, had a head full of blonde hair - the which he kept excellent care of; he elegantly wore a light blonde moustache - that he carefully trimmed every morning; he had a slim figure - of which he continually kept in shape by constant fencing exercises; and he had a set of mysteriously deep blue eyes - that could hold the darkest of secrets without fear of being revealed even to the keenest of observers. And yet this latter stated description, that is, the mentioning of his eyes, were a complete opposite of mine, of which are only a dark brown, and that could not hold a secret to save my life. Not only are my eyes brown, but also my long hair, that I always take special care of. I am, myself, clean-shaven, as many Englishmen are - England being my native country - and my physique, I do dare say, is slightly more muscular than that of my fine French friend.

 

But, alas!, even though these before mentioned qualities, which I even took care to hold back some extreme details of, belonged to the proud natures that I and my French ship mate shared, they were not even comparable to those exceptional qualities of Captain Skull - of whom I carefully make mention of in this telling with the greatest of details. For though he were a nature full of mysteries, his outward appearance told everything, without he having to even open his mouth. His eyes, as if he were the Frenchman’s brother, were as blue crystals - always magnificently catching the glimmer shed by the sun, and always sparkling, as if the oceans (all seven) were enclosed within them. Their colour could pass for an aqua blue, though an occasional dullness would shoot through them whenever he became angered; which, in all honesty, did not occur often enough to even be mentioned, for his was a nature that was the most patient and mild-mannered that ever I’d seen the likes of! These deep blue eyes could have had him pass for a fine Irishman, though his looks revealed a French origin. However, his hair, being very long, straight and black would have him being a Spanish nobleman. But the main question always was where he had come from. But to this, no one knew, for none of the crew had any idea. And if there were any persons living at that time that had the answers to his birth, they had not, and even unto this day, revealed their presence. So, therefore, the question then remains unanswered. I myself on several occasions had heard him speak French, Spanish, English (for, of course, English is my language - the only one I could speak, and still the only one I completely know), and even once did I hear him speak German.

 

The captain always wore black, from head to foot, and an occasional white or silver, set here and about, to add interest to his elaborate costumes; full of lace and plumes they were! He was a mighty man of valor, indeed, who never spoke much, and never even opened his lips unless a situation commanded him to. Sometimes I saw days go by that he would not utter a word; then, on other occasions, he would speak nearly all afternoon. And when his lips were not in motion, even though they usually delivered, as if it were, words of gold, then he was always in deep thought, and readily giving himself, what I considered, thorough sound advice. These silent days did not mean, however, that he was locked up tight in his cabin; but to the contrary, he was always standing with us, shaking or nodding his head ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to answer small questions. But when he did speak, as I had just before said, it was only to important matters, having no nonsense or jesting within the speech; which was very much unlike me, and especially my dandy French friend, who, as myself, had always a ready, witty and sometimes comical saying for any occasion that demanded a light response.

 

The captain’s presence secured intelligence, braveness, shrewdness, and outright strength! He was the greatest - I do here proclaim - the greatest of all Pirates! For this was our profession, and such a one that deserved honest respect . . . . Honest respect? Piracy? Can that really be so? Verily, for half the crew, as incredible as it may seem, were noblemen! Aye – noblemen, who were banished from nearly every country in Europe. This, what I am saying, is no jest, and it had constituted from the strangest of events, for these exiled lords and nobles (I know not for what crimes - for it was something that was not asked, neither was it told), made our Spanish Galleon seem, as if it were, the grandest of any royal court - to which nobles paid homage only to themselves. Quiet unique, no doubt, but unbelievably true. Captain Skull had made for himself a small, should I say – underground - reputation for being a Gentleman Tyrant. Always when he boarded a ship, he killed only those whom he had a necessity to kill, and spared those who wished their lives spared; and even, if they liked, to let some of them join his crew - for, indeed, he did need man-power to run his ship. Could it be imagined that noblemen acted as mere sailors? That would have been a thought unworthy to even be mentioned on board! So therefore, to this result, seeing as Captain Skull was a somewhat respected practicing Pirate, and nobleman and lords who had no other means of accumulating tons of gold unto their person, they readily grasped the idea of Piracy, and they joined Captain Skull on his quest for . . . for what? . . . what would almost seem to be revenge. But the reason for this revenge, if such was indeed the case, was another one of those questions that remained unanswered! My thoughts on this subject, seeing that I know the captain as I do, is that the captain himself was a banished noble or lord, and took on Piracy for revenge to corrupted and pampered nations who did not treat their nobles appropriately. But honestly though, perhaps the greatest reason for this adopted occupation of his may lye in the fact that he desired the accumulation of much gold! Verily, and admittedly, he had a love for treasure!

 

Piracy is an easy profession, and can make one rich almost overnight. So, therefore, in response to all these happenings, half the crew were sailors, who kept the ship assail, and the other half were of high bred birth, whose work only came when duty called for the use of their swords, which, I will admit, was a grand display in fencing, fighting, cannonading, and, as funny as it is to hear - robbery!

 

 

 

Chapter 2

My Personal Adventure, And How I got my Start

 

I can remember vividly those days when I first met the captain, back when I was a young lad, who was hastily looking forward to starting a life, and to begin an adventure! Back in England, however, that adventure was a far cry away, for I was working odd-jobs here and about, living on the streets, being orphaned from birth, and I found it difficult to even keep up with normal life – whatever that meant! Dreaming of nothing but a grand life in some tropical locale, I did somehow, in all that busy ruckus, manage to pull enough money together for a sea voyage to the New World, called the Americas! What an exciting day that was, and I had my mind all made up, for I was going there never to return to England again. I was finished with the rough life on the English streets, and I wanted to become a sugar planter in the West Indies - that new Garden of Eden!

 

Looking back to those glorious days of exciting youth, filled with hopes and dreams, I remember my first day out to sea as if it were but yesterday. I never had been to sea before, and I was very surprised that I did not at all become ill on that entire journey, from which would have been caused by sea-sickness. So exciting, so mysterious, and much fun as well, but my greatest memory of that journey came at a certain evening, when the sun could just barley be seen dipping into the sea from afar. The beauty of that entire painting before me was breath-taking; yet, despite it all, it compared but little to the beauty that stood only a few feet away, who was also admiring the departing sun as much as I.

 

She had brown flowing, straight beautiful hair, which delicately laid upon her shoulders, and it draped lightly upon the lace of her collar. The hard-hitting sea wind would flip it back away from her face every so often, revealing a lightly tanned, smooth face that it had been softly caressing. Her lips were red and full, and her eyes, being as brown as her hair, were very soft ovals of loveliness - all combining together to tell any man that a rare flower was in their presence! Of course, I have no need to mention that her body was as delicate as her facial features - but they were! And, alas!, I did notice.

 

I would find myself, as I now muse to say, slowly edging my way toward her. As young and clueless as I was at that time in my life, which was when I was only eighteen years of age, I imagined that the young lady did not even notice my advancements toward her. That is, until I heard some laughter coming from her direction. At first I refused to accept that she was laughing at me!

 

"If you edge your way any nearer," she finally ventured to say to me, still looking out toward the sunset, "then I would have to make you sit upon my lap, for you are in danger of coming that close to me!" Upon this last sentence, she finally turned toward me, and I could see how stunning she was in that evening light! More beautiful than what I had realized that she was.

 

"Excuse me?" I stupidly replied, embarrassed, and having a most woeful expression upon my face, for she had caught me off-guard.

 

Her only response was more laughter. At this, I had caught on that her musing was indeed directed toward me, and so I gladly yielded in!

 

"And if I did come to sit upon your lap," I dared to suggest, with a gleeful smile upon my lips, "would that be a bad thing?"

 

As she was about to reply, a man had come up toward us both.

 

"My dear," he said to the girl, acting as if I were not even there. "The dancing is almost over, and I still have not had a chance to dance with the prettiest girl yet."

 

She looked at him with a smile, then looked back at me with that same smile, and walked away into the direction from which the man came. He started to follow her, so I sorrowfully returned to my view over the sea, being extremely disappointed. To my surprise, however, the man came back out, and walked toward my direction. And when he had stopped right in front of me, I turned to face him.

 

"And as for you, sir," he said, in a most threatening and dignified tone, his eyes sparkling with anger, "you will never speak to her again. Or I will be forced," he continued, while grabbing the pommel of his sword, "to run you through. Do you understand?"

 

I said nothing - merely stared.

 

Upon my hesitation, I guess he took it that I did understand, for he replied: "Very good." And then he walked back into where the dancing was being done.

 

I cannot even begin to explain how I felt at that very moment. Usually, when I had been insulted, I would immediately throw my fist into the offender's face! But this was a different matter, though, for I was not in a dirty London alley, nor at a quarrel with a common street lad - this man was a gentleman, and obviously a swordsman as well. Being from the streets, I naturally knew nothing about fencing, except the two or three times I had seen a demonstration in my neighborhood by local nobleman's children, who were musing themselves for the benefit of the other lads. Therefore, I could not challenge the wretch, or else he would, as he had said, run me through! So, what was I to do? Perhaps forget the whole matter like a wise man would do? Sure, that would have been easy, if I wasn't Charles! But since I am Charles, I know that I am not a wise man. So, again, what was I to do? . . . . My solution? Yes, it was a crazy one!

 

Walking up slowly toward the captain of the vessel, I casually struck up a conversation with him. An Irishman of some years, I could see that the man was very sea-worthy, as an old favorite vessel might be - that is, very tried at the challenges of the ocean. A captain's hat, a patch over the left eye, and a pipe completed a costume that already very much screamed of the sea.

 

In my conversation with him, having had other intentions, I made it seem that I wished to have just a friendly chat with the man, so I threw a few questions to him concerning his ship, of how long he had been at sea, his age, about his family - you know, everything that I really did not wish to know! So, after having him become very friendly toward me, considering that I was having him talk to me about his favorite subjects, which was himself, I was finally coming to the point:

 

"Tell me, captain," I begun, "Are there wild natives on Jamaica?"

 

"Wild natives?" he repeated, knitting his brows, a little surprised at the question. "I do not think so, my lad. They are, I believe, on the other islands."

 

"I see." I said, also knitting my brows, trying to imitate the old seaman. "But, what I mean, are there things there that one would have to defend themselves from?"

 

"Well, of course, lad," he said, placing his hands behind his back, while holding his head slightly in the air, and looking straight at me, "that is the way of life." he added, while raising his eyebrows. "You have to be able to defend yourself anywhere ye be in this world."

 

"True." I admitted. "But when I lived on the streets of London, all I had to know was how to make a good fist!" And I demonstrated by shaking my fist in the air.

 

"Yes, you have a point, my boy." He said, laughing a little at my flying fist.

 

"But where we are going," I continued, coming closer to my point, and having already put my hand down, "that skill may be useless, do you not think, captain?"

 

"You perhaps may be right."

 

"I bet," I said, trying not to miss a single expression on his face, "I bet that you are an excellent swordsman yourself."

 

"Oh, I wouldn't say excellent," he said, continuing to smile at me, "but I do have a fair hand at it."

 

"Oh, that's great!" I exclaimed. "Could you show me some basic moves?" I added, finally coming to the point. "I mean, just a few quick ones, where I can defend myself from any harm at Jamaica?"

 

At this, the captain was speechless - he didn't even see it coming! His eyes knitted more than they had done before. And all the poor man could do was to stammer out a few words: "Well . . . I, ugh . . . I don't know . . . I, ugh . . . ."

 

"Oh, I'm sure that it wouldn't take long - just a few basic moves."

 

"Well," he said, smiling once again, "what would be the harm?"

 

I really have no need to say that my intentions were less than honest, for I merely wanted to learn fencing so I could kill that buffoon for his insolent remarks.

 

"Mark!" the old sea captain called out, motioning for his first mate to come near him. Upon this, a young seaman came toward us.

 

"Sir?" asked the man, who I could see was a true man of the sea, with a red sash at his waist, and a red bandana around his head.

 

"Loan the lad yer sword." said the old man, while pointing me out. "He wishes for me to teach him a few moves on the blade."

 

At this, the first mate seemed to be a little taken aback, while glancing at me a little nervous. But then his nervous expression took on a more cheerful smile while observing me. "Why, sure." he quickly said, while unbuckling his sword.

 

He then handed it directly to me.

 

As that wondrous sword was being handed to me, a surge of unexplainable joy went all through my body! What a feeling this blade produced over me, and somehow I knew the blade would play a unique role in my life.

 

 

 

Chapter 3

I Approach the Buffoon, But Then Something Happens!

 

After about an hour of extreme basic lessons from the worn out sea captain, I felt assured of my new found talent. Yes, talent, as it would be assumed by the over-zealous thinking of youth! Even though the captain did tell me to immediately find his first mate to return the sword to him, I did intentionally keep it a little longer, hoping to settle my differences with that lace-filled buffoon before doing so. Upon this idea, of which I whole-heartedly entertained myself with – imagining with my every step toward him that I was running the insolent fellow through with the first mate’s sword, I did quicken my pace to try to find him. Tucking the sword into my belt, so as to appear non-threatening to the other passengers, I then proceeded into the dining hall of the ship, which was the last place I had seen them go into, and hoping that they would still be there.

 

Upon my entrance, the first site that I was met with was a rather small, dimly lit room, with a few tables scattered about. At first, my scan of the area was fixed upon the few couples who were dancing to the two or three instruments that were humming out a tune that all the courtiers were familiar with in London. But my man was not there, so my scan quickly moved to the tables, and, yes, there he was, with his insolent smile embedded upon his face! Oh, how I wanted to remove that sarcastic-looking grimace with my . . . I mean, with the first mate’s sword!

 

I took a step into the room, where I found myself making a quick stop! I did not notice that sitting across from him was the beautiful young lady, of whom I had but briefly met a little over an hour before, and who was gazing at the moon just as I. Ah, what a rare gem she was! But why was she sitting at the table with that insolent man? Honestly, why would she even want to associate with him at all? Seeing as he was probably her brother, I might be able to see, out of family necessity, of course, that she would sit with him. If he were my brother, however, I don’t know if I could stomach the man’s presence, even if the saying was true that blood is thicker than water! And if the worst case scenario could even be possible that he might be courting her (perish the thought!), then certainly her brains had departed her senses just as far as north is from south.

 

However, I mustn’t keep thinking of her beauty at a time like this, when my honor was at stake! For there was always a possibility that the girl, by that time, might bethought me a huge coward; that is, of course, if that rotten gentleman had told her anything - and that would just never do! So, at this conclusion, I continued my advancement toward my determined destination, gripping tightly the pommel of the first mate’s sword. Surely, the buffoon would regret the day that he ever spoke to me in such a manner as he did – should that not be so?

 

As I approached their table, I stood directly beside the two of them, having one hand upon the pommel of the sword, and my other fisted hand was resting upon my side. I opened my mouth, and I quickly prepared a fitting speech, ready to address it toward this loathsome sight, when suddenly a passenger came running into the dining hall, screaming at the top of his lungs: “A ship has been spotted off the star-board bow! This could mean trouble.”

 

At this, everyone in the entire dining hall rushed out, heading toward the star-board bow, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sighted ship. Yes, everyone left out, except me – I, who was still standing in that same ridiculous position that I had been standing in for the past five seconds: that was, with one fisted-hand still upon my hip, one hand still on the pommel of the sword, and my mouth was still wide open, ready to speak to that rotten gentleman who was no longer there. And not only he, but neither the beautiful girl, nor any other passenger who had been sitting or dancing in the dining hall . . . in fact, it was so dead quiet in there, that even the creaking of the ship’s boards could be considered loud at that time!

 

So I took my ridiculous-looking self slowly out of the dining hall to join the others at the star-board bow, who were all anxiously gazing at the other ship with gripping anticipation of what she could be. Of course, I was so upset, that I could care less at that moment what is going on with that other ship.

 

As I nonchalantly leaned upon the banister, and after I squeezed through the thick crowd to get there, I began to look at nothing in particular – not even at the other ship. I was letting my gaze float from passenger to passenger, while I was set in deep thought. But suddenly I saw, staring directly at me, that beautiful girl, who had a delightful smile embedded upon her face. I was so taken aback with that sweet gesture that I froze, not knowing how to respond. I was, however, able to break free from my spell, and I started to return her smile with one of my own. But just as quickly, though, as my frown turned upside down into that sparkling grin, it returned to its frowning state once more, for my view of that beautiful girl had been obscured suddenly from sight by the leaning forward form of her buffoon friend, which purposefully came in-between our gaze. And then all I could see, instead of the sweet good natured countenance, was a strong and hateful frown, which was directed right at me from my most hated adversary!    

 

But before anything else could happen, I received a tap upon my shoulder. Jumping slightly, for the tap had given me a start, I quickly spun around to face a smiling first mate, who was laughing slightly because he had made me jump so.

 

“I need my sword back, please.” said he to me, still smiling.

 

“Oh, sure.” I replied, quickly handing it back to him. It was very obvious that I wasn’t going to need it anyway at that time to settle my fury with that terrible man.

 

It was now getting close to either nine or ten in the evening, and it was really dark upon the ocean, and only the form of the other ship could barely be seen in the distance, being lightly clothed upon by the moonlight; these things I started to observe, deciding to go ahead and avert my attention to the newest happenings - seeing that I could do nothing about the other anyway. These events about this other ship approaching actually lasted the rest of the night, and through to the early morning hours. Surely, she must be rather large, like a Galleon, for it seemed to approach us with a very slow speed.

 

As it neared about three in the morning, the watchman up in the crow’s nest, which was nestled just above two massive sheets of canvas (a part of our sails), kept hollering that the other ship’s flag still could not be seen in the darkness through his looking-glass telescope, even though the other ship was in greater visible sight than it had been previously, and was getting closer to our vessel. Throughout these slow hours I could hear some of the ladies crying, saying that they were going to be killed by Pirates, and the men were busy in their duties of comforting, assuring them that such would not be the case. Now, this whole scene continued through the entire morning hours, as more passengers awoke, joining the late-niters upon the main deck, and who all hovered near the edge, trying their best to make out the ever approaching ship – for it, indeed, was coming closer and closer by every approaching hour. As all that was going on, while trying to work through the ruckus that all this was causing on board, the old sea captain was trying his best to give orders to his crewmen, just in case of an emergency.

 

As six in the morning had approached, the nightly darkness was beginning to fade, and the sun was starting to make his appearance on the opposite side of the ocean. Leaning forward even more, the crewman up in the crow’s nest began to shout heartedly, “She’s waving an English flag!”

 

At this announcement, all on board shouted a cry of relief; a cry which, no doubt, could have been heard by the occupants of the approaching ship. However, I was not in voice with the others; not because I was still mad, mind you – no! – for that had all but ceased within me by that time, but it was instead upon a suspicion, for I had wondered if it may be no more than a trick from the other ship, as Pirates sometimes were noted to do: that is, to hide their true colors until there could be no escape from any victims that they may run upon. But I believe that the only other person on board who slightly shared my feelings concerning this matter was the old sea captain, whom I could hear in the distance saying things like: “It doesn’t matter, you stay your post!” and: “Tend your duty, you are a member of this crew, so stay your ground!”

 

As the other ship approached within canon range, most of our crew was thinking that the Englishmen on board the mysterious ship wanted to board us for some political reason, but some of our passengers noted that they merely wanted to greet us, which I thought would be a rather silly reason. My thoughts were quite the contrary to these, hearing of all types of sea battles in the past, I still felt that there was something wrong here.

 

The mood on our ship had drastically changed since the other ship was first sighted earlier that morning. No longer were some of the women crying, and neither were there gloomy looks upon some of the men’s faces. Instead, people were actually laughing, and having conversations concerning if they may actually know some of the passengers on the other ship. I myself kept looking up at the crewman perched high up in the crow’s nest, for his gaze seemed unmovable since he first spotted the ship earlier in the morning. I figured that by this time, since we came into canon range (as I just mentioned) that he would be describing the activity that was happening on board the mysterious vessel. After all, there was enough light by then for him to be able to see something going on there. But nay a word was being said by him, and the looking glass seemed to be permanently stuck to his eye. Surely, something was wrong, for he should have spoken of something by now.

 

“Ho!” he finally yelled. “I am beginning to see some activity on board the other ship.”

 

At his words, all on board our ship had stopped their talking and walking about to hear the news. Even the old sea captain stopped his activities with the crew members to listen in.

 

“What’s this I see?” he continued, high above, and in a slightly agitated voice. All of us strained our ears to hear.

 

Quickly pulling the glass away from his eye, his gaze then turned to find the captain. “They are taking down their flag!” he yelled to him.

 

All on board, including myself, ran back to the edge of the ship once again to have a look. Sure enough, the glorious English colors were quickly taken down, as could be seen in the not too far off distance, and we all held our breath!

 

Suddenly, there arose cries and shrieks from our ship, as the unmistakable image of the black flag of skull and cross-bones defiantly replaced the more gentle sight of a much friendlier flag. And as an almost eerie mechanical response to our cries and wailings that had filled the morning air around us, a war-like roar rose from the other ship, as the crewmen of the Pirate vessel were now visible, and were raising their weapons up, so that we could see them, and fear!