Writer’s Block – The Legend of Blackwater Cove
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Until I can get some actual good posts going on here, I thought I would post a short story I wrote on my other blog at http://www.stevesaylor.net. I'm not sure if I want to move my whole blog to here yet, but I really like Vox and what it has to offer. It is so easy to post anything. Once again thanks to Leo for turning me to this service.
So until I figure out the move, enjoy the short story. And let me know what you think.
The Legend of Blackwater Cove – by Steve Saylor
The winds were howling, the sea was roaring, it was all the crew of the Tyndale could do to keep their ship from being taken into Mother Nature’s fierce control. She had been pounding on this defenseless ship for days now, and there was no end in sight. The crew became weary. Her captain loosing all hope of not only making out of the storm alive, but keeping the morale of his crew up as best as it could be. They had stopped trying to fight the storm a day ago, and just let Mother have her way, until she grew tired of playing with her ship in a bottle and move on.
Seventy-two hours have passed since the Tyndale was making it’s voyage from Port George in what is now south of Nevus in the Southern Caribbean; to it’s final destination in Kingston, Jamaica. Carrying with her cargo that would only benefit a small starving village than to any Pirates that were frequent among these waters. The most well known of legends in these waters was that of a ship called the Wellington. She went down with all hands from a mysterious white covered ship that was waiting in the reefs while the storm blew the Wellington past it’s wake, but it was almost as if the Wellington was drawn to it’s splendor cousin ship, with it’s white shimmering sails, and it’s slender white build. Legend has it, that this “Ghost Ship” as it was commonly called, would fade in and out of reality, that the sailor on the crows nest would have to look very closely to make out it’s sails, and know exactly what to look for. Legend also tells of it’s “Ghost Captain” as well. No one knows the true name of him. To the world he does not exist. No port in all of Eastern India and the rest of the uncivilized Caribbean knew anything about him, but his legend grew on. He is said to have cut out men’s eyes and use them as buttons for his cloak if a sailor under his crew would lust after a shilling more than his share. Also he would rip out a sailor’s hair and force him to weave his own hanging noose, and throw himself off of the highest sail, just for crossing his Captain. And the legends only grew from there. So to say that the crew of the Tyndale were worried of receiving said tortures while the sea bashed at it’s hull would be an understatement.
Seventy-five hours have passed, and still no sign of the storm letting the Tyndale go free.
“This is utterly ridiculous!”, screamed the Captain of the Tyndale throwing maps across his cabin. “How am I supposed to just sit here and let this happen!”
“I don’t know sir,” said his first mate, “We have tried all that we can to free us of this storm, but it is useless.”
“I don’t want mindless stating of the obvious Davies, I want solutions! I want to get out of this bloody drift.”
The ship lunched to port suddenly, while the First Mate Davies, and the captain held on to the support beams of the Captain’s Cabin.
“I’m getting mighty tiresome of that,” said Davies.
“As am I,” said the Captain.
“Sir, may I ask a question?” Davies asked reluctantly.
“You want to know if I think the legends are true?” the Captain replied.
“Aye.”
“It’s just superstition Davies. Legends are mostly built on it. They are overly exaggerated, and have no truth in them at all. This Ghost Ship and it’s Captain are not real.”
“Oh I don’t know, I think I look real to me.” said a deep grisly mysterious voice in the corner of the cabin.
The Captain and Davies shot out of their chairs, and drew their swords trembling and startled. They searched the room. No sign of whoever was making that voice.
The Cabin’s lanterns were then blown out as the doors to the Cabin blew open. A loud howling wind pierced the ears of Davies and the Captain. The wind was so piercing, a loud ringing sound were pounding their ear drums.
Papers, and items that were loose around the Cabin blew all around, with such a force that a small dagger that was laying on the table shortly before shot from the table and darted and struck a picture hanging on the wall, and stuck to the wooden wall behind it.
The sound was becoming deafening, Davies and the Captain were now bleeding from their ears and they were now receiving cuts from being struck by the items that were blowing around the room. They held their ears in their hands and fell to the floor, dropping their swords in the process.
And just as suddenly as it all began, the wind was gone, the doors closed, the lanterns now burst into large flames and illuminated the mysterious stranger.
The Captain looked up from the ground, he saw standing before him a ragged man dressed in dirty white clothes. His cloak would reach the floor, and wore it loosely around his muscular frame. He carried two large cutlasses on both sides, and a revolver stuck barrel in to his belt. He had two belts crossed around his chest of bullets, where the remnants of what was the shirt and vest of the Majesty’s Navy underneath. He had a large White beard that was breaded with shells, and revolver balls. He had a large noticeable red scar across his cheek and when he grinned it would stretch across his left cheek making it bleed. His white hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and was amazingly neat compared to the rest of his appearance. His eyes were that of cold blue steel, and when the Captain’s eyes met his, those steel eyes would change color from Cold blue to fiery red as if his whole body were filled with fire, and his eyes were the only window to what was inside the man. Hist black hat was wide brimmed and had chains of gold looped around it. He stood tall and looked down upon the Captain as he lay prostrated in front of this creature. He grinned an evil grin at the Captain, amused that this once proud Captain was now laying on the ground like a weeping infant.
The Captain tried to reach for his sword on the ground but the white clothed monster pressed his foot against the handle along with the Captains hand. The Captain winced in pain. The pressed boot only pressed harder.
Davies seeing the opportunity of distraction, went to grab his sword, and as quickly as he shot up to grab it, this monster without even looking at Davies, drew his revolver from his belt, cocked it, and shot the hand that grabbed his sword. He then cocked his revolver again, and shot Davies’ leg. Davies fell to the ground in pain clutching his leg with his only free hand.
Without even taking an eye off of the Captain, he grinned even more and knelt down without loosing the Captains gaze.
“Do I look real now, captain?” He said with his grizzly, low deep voice. He laughed a loud menacing laugh, amused at the predicament his two captives were in. “Now where is the hospitality Captain, I’ve been here several minutes and you have not even offered me a drink of Rum. Tsk, Tsk.” He then, released his foot from the Captain’s hand, and taking his own sword pierced the same hand with it, forcing it straight through his hand to pin it to the floor boards.
“Don’t get up, I’ll get it myself.” he said as he walked towards the Wine rack that was hanging on his wall. There were only a few bottles of Rum remaining, so after careful look at each bottle, uncorking each one, and sniffing the liquid inside to decide on which blend and year to choose. After settling on a 10 year old bottle, he then walked over to the Captain’s chair that was behind the desk. He pulled it out, sat in it and rested his feet on top of the desk, while his two battered victims were laying helpless. One pinned to the floor, while the other rested against the wall clutching his leg. The sitting stranger looked down on them both as if they were both dogs begging for scraps at the table.
“Now, Captain, we need to discuss a matter of great importance.” the stranger said while taking a long swig from the bottle of Rum.
“W-who are you, and w-what are you d-doing on my ship?” the Captain said shaking.
“That is not important at this time. You are heading to my Cove. Why?”
“You answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”
“Don’t try to play games with me Captain, I have taken down far better men than you, and your co-hort over there. Now I say again,” the stranger took his feet off the table and leaned his head down towards the Captain, “why are you sailing to my Cove?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” the Captain said trying to regain his strength.
“Fine then, ” the stranger said as he slapped his hands on his knees and got up. He walked over to Davies, knelt down so his face was face to face with Davies. “Now maybe you can tell me, why are you sailing to my Cove?”
“Don’t tell him any–”, as the Captain was trying to finish his sentence, the stranger drew his other sword and cut off a piece of the Captains tongue. The Captain screamed.
“Quiet! I’m talking to my new friend, what is it?” the Stranger queried
“D-Davies sir, J-John Davies,” Davies said trembling.
“Well, J-John Davies, good solid name, can you tell me the reason why you are sailing to my Cove, and please no lies or tricks. I have no time for said things, and I may be persuaded to leave now, if you answer me that simple question.”
“S-sir, no disrespect, b-but I do not know what you are t-talking about.”
Frustrated, the stranger said, “Fine! Here, I’ll show you.” He grabs Davies by the hair, and drags him across the room to a map that was lying on the ground. He took Davies’ finger and pointed it to a Cove on the map that was listed as 5 leagues dead ahead of the Tyndale’s current position.
“Here. Blackwater Cove. Why are you heading towards Blackwater Cove?!” The stranger yelled in Davies’ ear. “Don’t make me ask again!”
It was then that the doors to the Cabin rattled as the crew could hear the strange noises coming from the cabin, and came to investigate. The doors were locked, and no one could get in. The stranger then grew restless, and continued to yell at Davies. Davie’s then screamed, “We are trying to get out of the storm!!! We are trying to get out of the storm!!!” Now blubbering, tears streaming down Davie’s cheeks dropping down on the map, the Stranger stood up. Adjusted his hat, and his cloak walked towards the port hole of the Cabin. He could see the Cove in the distance.
“Now that is a satisfactory answer.” the Stranger said with a creepy calm demeanor, which only seconds before, there was no trace of. “I must bid you good day Captain, and John Davies. I appreciate your hospitality, and the fine drink. Don’t mind me, I’ll see myself out.”
And with a flash of flames from the Cabin’s lanterns the stranger disappeared. The doors to the Cabin then burst open and the crew came rushing in. They stopped dead in their tracks, seeing their Captain and first mate lying on the floor. One of the crew mates went and gently grabbed the sword that was still pinning the Captain’s hand to the floor, and removed it from the Captain’s hand. He looked at the gold encrusted handle that adorned the bloody sword. He looked closely and saw an engraving on it’s hilt. It read only this, “Captain John Snowbeard, 1696″
At that same moment across the waters at the Cove the stranger stood looking at the Tyndale in his scope grinning. As he looked through the scope he saw suddenly the Tyndale explode in a massive cloud of flames lighting the night stormy sky. As the ship was sinking to the bottom of the sea, the stranger closed his scope and said, “Beware of strangers in stormy waters, lest they cross Captain John Henry Snowbeard.” He then smiled.
The End
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About The Author
Steve Saylor
Steve Saylor is currently the Web Content Editor at Blackburn Radio in Wingham Ontario for CKNX AM920, 101.7 The ONE and 94.5 The BULL. Steve is a New Media Specialist and has worked in this field since Spring of 2005. He is a self-published author, a techie and a geek. To read more about Steve, click HERE
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