The Curse of Blackbane - Chapter 9
I’m Supposed to be Immortal!
Only 1 chapter of free reading left for this story.
Chapter 9
The dead crewmen stopped at the order.
The demon stepped into view; his foul face twisted into something akin to a triumphant smile. Beelzebub pulled a blacksmith tong from his black belt.
“I’ll strip you of your flesh while you scream for mercy. Then I’ll give your flesh to feed your crew,” the demon roared as he stepped closer.
The two ghouls pulled the struggling Blackbane tight against the wheel. The captain’s face turned red as he struggled to breathe from the pressure on his windpipe. His free hand pulled and scratched at the brawny arm of the ghoul with no effect.
Beelzebub brought the tong pincers toward the pinned arm of the captain. The creature’s mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish. However, the demon failed to see Blackbane drop his free hand and begin searching on his belt. An instant later, Beelzebub’s howls filled the air. The beast backed away in fear, holding his belly. Blackbane lifted the Saint Gennaro dagger, then slammed it back next to his head. The blade penetrated the eye of the ghoul behind Blackbane. With a hideous scream, the dead crewman released the pirate captain. Blackbane yelled out, then sliced into the second ghoul who bit his arm during the fierce struggle. The creature fell away.
Finally released, Blackbane’s eyes focused on Beelzebub, who continued to back away while eyeing the dagger in the pirate’s hand.
“Rip him apart,” the demon ordered the few remaining undead.
Aware that he had little time as the dead crew came after him, Blackbane went after the monster again. Beelzebub recognized the attack, and the creature swung at him with the tong. Blackbane sidestepped the blow and continued his advance. He slid around the demon and tried to strike at the monster’s side with his dagger. However, a ghoul caught Blackbane by the leg first. The action sent the captain against the rail at the edge of the ship. Beelzebub struck his opponent’s arm with the tong, sending the dagger sliding along the deck. Blackbane again launched himself at the demon, trying to push the creature away. His clumsy attempt to buy time failed when the force of his charge struck the beast.
Beelzebub and Blackbane fell over the railing into the black water together. Desperately pulling himself to the surface, Blackbane struggled in the cold water. The captain could barely swim on a smooth day. Now, he was in the water with a fearful demon who once released the powerful Abezethibou from the Red Sea. Blackbane started swimming for the side of the ship, barely outlined in the night’s blackness. Just as he reached the wooden planks, the captain felt pressure immediately, followed by pain in his ankle. Blackbane couldn’t even gasp as Beelzebub dragged the man under the water. As the demon descended into the depths, the captain struggled. Soon, his lungs felt like they were on fire, and the man realized he was drowning.
I’m supposed to be immortal!
It wasn’t prayer; it was more of an observation. Blackbane decided the angel lied to him. He would sink into the dark depths where he would become fish food. The suffocating pressure and darkness pierced through the captain’s thoughts. Then he saw a blue light that gradually filled his mind. Blackbane’s lungs finally collapsed. The man heard the breaking bones, yet he felt no pain. Even the agony of his leg left when the demon released him.
The light intensified, and his vision showed him a vague outline of a person. The captain felt himself floating toward the person. Slowly, he recognized it was more than one person. His body passed through the shadowy forms, which slowly walked in a line. They walked on a grassy trail that reminded Blackbane of his past. He recognized the path lead to a familiar plot of land outside of Boston. William Marshall grew to a young lad on the farm.
That was before his mother became a whore on the docks!
Frequently, the thought of his childhood sent Blackbane into a rage. However, he felt calm, which seldom came to the pirate. As his floating form swept around the farmhouse, he wanted to stop and look into his old home, to step through the green-painted door. Somehow, he knew his father sat at the table inside while his mother served the family their typical meal of pease porridge with coarse rye bread.
However, Marshall had no control over the journey. Instead, his drifting soul came to a line of spirits. As he came upon the first one, he recognized the face: John Eliot, a missionary to the savages in New England. Marshall remembered seeing a painting of the man in the church his father took the family to each Sunday. The man, dourly dressed in black clothing, strolled along with a thick bible in his hand.
Behind Eliot, a small young woman clad in the ancient style white toga carried an open gold box. Somehow, he knew that her heart lay inside the box. She smiled at him as his vision faded. The line of men and women behind the woman disappeared. Only her angelic face remained in his sight. A voice whispered her name.
Julia of Carthage awaits you, William Marshall. I shall bring you peace with the touch of my hand.
~~~
A fresh breeze across his face woke Blackbane. His eyes stared momentarily at the flapping sail several feet above him. On the headsail above him, two men worked on the leech line. As he looked around the unfamiliar deck, the man heard a voice behind him.
“You Anglais?” Her hard-gray eyes observed him.
Blackbane glanced back to see a large woman on the wheel. Her tanned face had deep wrinkles and her dark blue coat barely contained her gigantic frame, emphasizing her large chest. Strands of her dark blonde hair escaped from under the woman’s red stocking cap and flittered in the breeze.
Blackbane nodded at her question.
“No francais,” he tried to explain he didn’t speak French.
“I speak your language; she told him with a scowl—Anglais husband before he drown. I’m Jacotte, captain of the l’Archimèdes.”
“What of my ship?” He asked as he sat up. His leg movement halted. Looking down at the leg iron attached to the mainmast, he frowned.
“We found your ship abandonné, cassé…broken on a reef. We go for salvage. You lie with the dead. The men were missing their eyes. They looked pluck out by mouette. We took fine cloths with your…how you say… la cargaison,” Jacotte told him.
“You mean my cargo?” Blackbane stated as he looked back at the barrels in the open hold. There were a few cannon lashed down the top of the deck as well. He guessed the remaining clothes and weapons went to the captain’s cabin for storage.
“How did I get back?” He turned back to the woman.
Jacotte gave him an odd look, appearing not to understand.
“My boy, Gascon, recognized the symbol of God on your throat. He reached for the coat, and you coughed out seawater. You cursed out your name.”
Blackbane rubbed his neck and felt the cursed sign grow hot to his touch. The boy she referred to was a large man who slid down a rope to land next to the prisoner. Gascon glared at Blackbane before Jacotte sent him away.
“Did you get my charts and instruments?” Blackbane asked the woman.
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“William Marshall signed the charts. Is that you?” She asked. Blackbane nodded.
“The ship we found was the Diano Marina. I’ve heard rumors that a devil named Blackbane is the captain of such a ship.”
The hard-bitten woman kept her eyes locked on his.
“While I don’t believe all the tall tales about that ship, the corpses around your living body tell me you might be the devil. Maybe you might bring in a handsome reward? We shall see.”
“What about my ship?” Blackbane asked.
“The Diano Marina sank just as we took off the last cannon that my small ship could handle. We’ll do well no matter what happens with you,” she replied. “However, I suspect you have interesting stories.”
Jacotte gave him a smug, toothy smile
“With the cannon, weapons, and barrels of gunpowder, we’ll make more than three trips filled with fish.”
Blackbane held his hand up to shade his eyes from the sun. He recognized their direction.
“You must be heading to France.”
“We’re going to Le Havre. We’ll take you to the Intendant. He’ll decide what to do with you,” she explained. “If you are Blackbane, he’ll hang you. I’ll get silver livre for your capture.”
“You only have a story about dead men on a ship which sank,” Blackbane suggested as he tried to stand. The low boom of the sail moved when the wind changed and forced him back to the deck. He looked at the woman.
“Perhaps we can make a bargain?”
Jacotte laughed at him.
“With no money and no ship, you have nothing, Marshall. Only the dagger my son found on you is worth something. And you no longer have that to bargain with. You cause trouble; then my men throw you into the sea. Understand Anglais?”
“Yeah, it won’t do you much good, but I understand,” he leaned back against the mast.
Like this and other stories? Consider becoming a paid subscriber.
Discover all my books at the link below.
