The Curse of Blackbane - Chapter 11

In Jail with the Black Monk

I have plenty of more chapters to go. You should become a paying subscriber to finish this and all the other novels on my site with art work for various scenes.

Chapter 11

After waking from another nightmare, Marshall lay on his back. He heard, then felt a rat hurry by him. The rodent continued past him. They usually nibbled on those prisoners who were too ill and weak to resist. When the captain heard the jangle of keys, he looked over at the noise as the night watch pushed the door open. The soft light of an oil lantern poked through the entrance. Standing in the view was the rotund figure of the Leiras, who hurried through the opening. Almost immediately, the door closed, leaving the darkness inside the large cell.

It wasn’t much of an escape!

Marshall turned away. Two days before, he overheard Leiras promise the jailer of a fortune in silver to let him escape. It appeared the idea of treasure finally overcome the jailer’s fear of Auguste. Marshall listened to the whispered chatter of a couple of prisoners who watched the escape with envy.

As the sun went down, the Black Monk took a spot near the door, and Marshall joined him. They found their places to sleep that night before the single ray of sunlight left the jail. Leiras told Marshall that he expected to escape that night. He whispered his promise to return to the pirate captain the next night.

Marshall did not believe it!

Aside from his knowledge that the monk carried strange beliefs, the pirate harbored no illusions about Leiras. No person risked their neck for the sake of a passing friendship. Bonds formed through battle and hardship carried weight in the violent world of piracy.

Marshall listened to the snores coming from a nearby prisoner, trying to forget the death of Bingham. When he asked about the body of his trusted friend, Jocatte told him that no other officers were aboard the ship. She explained that only dead men covered the decks. That meant that Bingham drowned, probably along with his woman.

What was her name? That’s it, Druda!

He recalled her jumping into the sea after Bingham went over. As the man replayed the events in his head, he realized he had misjudged the woman. Bingham was a good man, and despite being a pirate, carried a sense of honor. The connection between his first mate and Druda caused them to defend each other to death. Some called it love, although such an idea made little sense to Marshall. Indeed, the women he knew carried little sentimentality. He’d seen enough bodies with slit throats in the alleys behind brothels. Prostitutes were as cold and bloodthirsty as pirates. A buccaneer entering the whore houses along the docks kept one hand on his moneybag while his other hand remained close to his dagger.

Marshall turned to his side, trying to forget. He desperately wanted a dreamless sleep to fall over him. Yet, the pirate grew to understand that such relief would never come. The worst dreams came from his time in the Caribbean and the only pure love of his life, Emma Watson.

Emma was the daughter of a prominent doctor in Jamaica. During his brief time visiting the island, Marshall became enamored with the fair-skinned beauty. However, his penchant for smuggling led to a deadly duel against the son of a plantation owner. Rumors reach him about soldiers looking for him. While Marshall ordered his men to prepare the ship to flee, he went to Emma to coax her to join him. However, she refused at first. Finally, on his last night on the island, she agreed to leave with him.

Then fate intervened.