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    The Rough Rude Sea: A pirate adventure
    The Rough Rude Sea: A pirate adventure
    The Rough Rude Sea: A pirate adventure
    Ebook302 pages3 hours

    The Rough Rude Sea: A pirate adventure

    By William Stafford

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    About this ebook

    Fresh off the boat and newly married to the Governor's daughter, Dominic Drubbins finds his new life in the Caribbean thrown into turmoil by a pirate attack unlike no other. Enthralled by the dashing Sebastian, Dominic takes to the high seas but as he learns more about his enigmatic companion and the ways of the world, he comes to realise what must be done if he is to have his happy ever after. William Stafford, author of Leporello on the Lam, returns to historical fantasy with this action-packed adventure, a tale of piracy, derring-do and love.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAG Books
    Release dateMar 14, 2016
    ISBN9781782348856
    The Rough Rude Sea: A pirate adventure

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      Book preview

      The Rough Rude Sea - William Stafford

      1988

      1.

      I met the love of my life at my wedding reception. Lousy timing has plagued me all my days.

      We made eye contact across a crowded room - corny, I know but that’s how it happened. I was gazing, absent-mindedly, from the top table, looking out on the sea of faces, wigs and assorted headwear as my wedding guests - our wedding guests, rather; I must acclimatise myself to pluralising all my possessive pronouns - as they tucked into the veritable feast my new father-in-law had laid on, like so many hogs at so many troughs. I had no idea who most of them were, being newly arrived in the colony. My ship had been delayed for want of wind - a pity the same could not be said for those who had supplied the speeches.

      And then I saw him, gliding through the guzzling horde like a swan. His back was straight and his head was held high, balancing on it a prim, unadorned white wig; in his hand a silver platter on which he was conveying goblets of Rhenish wine. My eyes tracked his progress across the room. He seemed to me an ethereal being, made of light and beauty, untouched by the sweating, grunting and gobbling of the mere mortals around him.

      Dominic? A small hand squeezed my thigh. I turned to see the inquiring face of the bride to my right. My bride! My wife! Are you quite well, my love?

      I was unable to find words. The hand rose from my leg and pinched my chin. The silk of her glove was smooth against my skin. Only two hours before had I shaved for the first time in weeks.

      You’re gaping like a landed fish! this girl, my wife, laughed. Is there something wrong with your repast?

      I continued to gape at this pretty stranger to whom I was bound eternally. Her eyes seemed inordinately large to me. They searched mine, trying to read me. I hate it when people try to read me. I closed my eyes and got to my feet, pushing my heavy chair backwards with a scrape. I tore my napkin from my shirt front and discarded it. Everyone was looking at me, in anticipation or indeed dread of yet another interminable speech.

      Cecily, I... I murmured. She continued to look up at me, smiling in a manner that was at once patient and patronising. I felt sick. I stooped to whisper to her. I have to make water.

      She blushed and nodded. Suddenly her smile seemed to be for display purposes only. She returned her attention to her own plate, pecking at it with her fork. If her appetite were to continue in this vein, she would not cost me much to keep.

      I made my way across the platform and stepped down onto the floor proper. Relieved that I was not going to make a general address, the guests got back to their muttons, figuratively and literally.

      A bewigged servant - not the vision I had spotted earlier - bowed his head and opened the door. I thanked him even though you must never thank the servants - how many times had Mother drubbed that into me, in the hope that one day I would better myself and attain a social standing that obliged me to have servants?

      Well, Mother, I mused as I strode along the corridor and away from the banquet, how do you like me now? Have I climbed a high enough ladder for you yet?

      Governor Wilkins’s mansion sported more in the way of corridors than most. The walls were lined with portraits, darkening paint in gilded frames: former governors, friends and family, worthies of history... all pompous arses by the look of them. I felt their eyes upon me as I, lowly Dominic Drubbins from Bristol, walked among them. I could almost hear their disdain. I could almost feel the air being sucked into their flaring nostrils. I could imagine their affronted questions. What’s he doing here? Things have reached a pretty pass indeed if we are to admit the likes of him into our ranks!

      Where I was going, I didn’t know. As I said, I was newly arrived in the colony and had not yet had the opportunity to explore the grand mansion that was to be my home and place of work. My buckled shoes, new and pinching my heels somewhat, made satisfying clip-clops as I strode along the chequerboard tiles.

      I could keep walking, I realised. I could be out of there and down at the docks in minutes. I could jump on a ship - any ship! - and be away from the bride with the big eyes and her insufferable pompous arse of a father and the life that had been laid out for me with very little consultation of yours truly.

      I didn’t want to be the Governor’s clerk. I didn’t want to be married to his daughter, however pretty and sweet she may be. How I had come to be in this sorry situation I wasn’t entirely certain. Mother of course had had a lot to do with it. Forever pushing me forward, recommending me here, introducing me there, shoving me into places I didn’t want to go every-bloody-where. Her scheming and machinations had backfired on her somewhat when it became apparent that my social climbing involved separation from her by the width of an entire ocean. She had sobbed into her scented handkerchiefs as she had waved me off but her eyes were full of pride for a job well done.

      I think I had allowed myself to be swept along with all of this just to be free of her at last. And what had happened? After the most tedious and uneventful and slow progress across the Atlantic I had arrived on the day set for my wedding and was thrown into a blur of activity, tossed from barber to tailor to priest like a doll.

      I should keep walking. I really should. Take charge of my own destiny for once.

      I was about to do so, having located the back door of the mansion where my egress could occur with the minimum or even the complete absence of attention when my bladder informed me that it would be better for the both of us if I were to empty it first. You can’t argue with reasoning like that.

      I scanned about, looking for the necessary. The third door I tried opened onto a closet in which stood a huge copper pot already half full and heady with urine. Governor Wilkins would not require his guests to step outside to the latrine on as special an occasion as his daughter’s wedding day.

      I unfastened my breeches and, taking myself in hand, let nature do its work. Ahh! Is there any relief like it? My water splashed into the copper, a strong and admirable jet to put a racehorse to shame and I was just shaking off the last drops when I heard the door open behind me.

      Er - just a minute, please! I called over my shoulder, still shaking myself. I tucked myself away, certain a drop or two were still very much with me and turned to find myself facing the servant from before.

      He was taller than me and slender. A smile was playing on his generous lips and his eyes - turquoise and bright - bore into mine. He raised a long finger to my lips and pulled the door closed behind him.

      Hello, he said in a breathy whisper. I’m Sebastian.

      I kissed his finger.

      It began.

      ***

      I will spare you the details of what we did in that water closet. Frankly it’s none of your business but it was a turning point in my life. I was twenty years old and up to that point I’d thought I was the only one.

      Of course, I knew I wasn’t. Even Bristol has its molly-houses and we all know what goes on during long sea voyages but I had thought, above all the pushing and the grunting and the physical necessity, I was the only man capable of loving another. The Ancient Greeks of my classical education were long dead and gone. So too was Shakespeare - although I suspected I was the only one to interpret certain lines of his in a certain way - and they were all fiction anyway, and -

      I must slow down. The thoughts that overwhelmed me as the beautiful Sebastian unfastened first my breeches and then his own all tried to imprint themselves on my consciousness at the same time. My confusion must have registered on my countenance because the slightest wrinkle appeared at the top of his nose. His beautiful, straight nose.

      Now’s not the time for thinking. His words were hot against my neck. He reached back and removed his wig, releasing with a toss of his head his long brown hair.

      Ah. I remember I wasn’t going to go into detail.

      We were so far from the banqueting hall it was certain no one would overhear our exertions. I was stricken with a longing and a hunger that seemed to have been lying in wait for me all these years.

      I gave as good as I got.

      And I didn’t mind the stench of the piss pot even though we knocked against it a couple of times, sending up fresh bursts of its fragrance. It wasn’t the place, time or circumstances I had expected for my deflowering but I wouldn’t alter a single detail.

      How long we were in there I couldn’t say. An hour perhaps. Give or take a few kisses - I mean, minutes.

      Buttoned up and bewigged, Sebastian opened the door and peered out into the corridor.

      It’s quiet, he said.

      That’s good, isn’t it? No one about?

      Sebastian stepped out and beckoned me to follow. He advanced a few steps along the corridor that led, eventually, back to the banqueting hall, then stopped. He listened. It’s too quiet.

      I joined him, straining my ears. There was no sound at all. A room full of people feeding their faces or talking or dancing or snoring through speeches must make some kind of noise. But there was only silence.

      I reddened. Perhaps they had all been listening! Perhaps every sound, sigh and grunt from the water closet had been audible, amplified somehow by the dimensions of the corridor! I shuddered in shame at the idea.

      Sebastian took my hand and clutched it tightly. Come on, he said.

      He led me back to the banqueting hall. I tried to hold back, reluctant to face their judgmental stares - as if the bloody paintings weren’t enough.

      Something’s happened, Sebastian said. He looked over his shoulder and his eyes locked onto mine like magnets. I’ll look after you, he said.

      I believed him.

      He pushed the door slowly with the flat of his free hand. The silence remained. It was rather unsettling by this point. I tried to see beyond him and into the room.

      Careful, said Sebastian and allowed me to go in.

      Everyone was still there, just as I had left them. Except that they were all dead. Slaughtered where they sat, throats cut, chests and backs stabbed, heads removed. Some were still holding food ready to devour with mouths they no longer possessed.

      There was not a drop of blood to be seen. Edges of wounds glistened red and wet where blades had thrust in and out but that was that. You would think the place would be awash.

      Up on the platform, the honoured guests at the top table had fared no better. Governor Wilkins had been sliced in twain from head to groin. His wife was headless, her own dead eyes gazing up at her from her plate. The priest lolled back in his chair, a new, wider mouth yawning in his gorge.

      Of Cecily, the new Mrs Drubbins, there was no sign.

      I looked under the tablecloth in case she was lying there, perhaps cowering, perhaps still living.

      She wasn’t.

      What happened here? I asked the room in general. Sebastian pulled me to him, his embrace a comfort.

      His warm breath tickled my ear.

      Pirates, he said.

      ***

      Pirates!

      The word was enough to strike terror into the stoutest heart. They were the scourge of the seven seas; everyone knew that. In truth, I had expected to encounter examples of their kind on my crossing from England but, as I mentioned, it had been the singularly most uneventful journey known to Man.

      At home, we would hear reports of ships assailed, crews and cargo appropriated, maidens ravished. Rape, pillage and plunder! Names came to the fore and became as well-known as our royal family. Kidd, Teach, Calico Jack, Ann Bonney... It was almost an honour to have your ship scuppered and your throat cut by one of these celebrities.

      But the scene of carnage that surrounded me did not match anything I had heard in those tales. It wasn’t carnage-y enough, for one thing. The loss of life was one thing but the absence of blood was puzzling to say the least.

      Once again, Sebastian seemed to read my thoughts. Don’t even think it! he warned me with a raised finger.

      Think what? I pushed the finger aside before he could press it to my lips. Vampires?

      It’s not vampires! He surveyed the scene, taking in all those people who had once had lives now nothing more than sculptures fashioned from meat. Trust me.

      His eyes held mine. I trusted him.

      Wilkins had an arsenal, I imagine. Sebastian rubbed his chin. It was slightly stubblier than mine and I recalled a brief instance of when it had rasped against my neck. Dominic?

      The sound of my name in his voice brought me back to myself. Um, what?

      Wilkins. Arsenal. Where is it?

      I tried to explain that I wasn’t entirely sure, being new to the island and all that. And then I remembered what had been in our hold along with the small chest that contained my meagre belongings. We had been bringing arms and ammunition from the mother country to restock Wilkins’s cellar.

      Downstairs! I exclaimed, pleased with myself for not disappointing this startling young man. I wondered if the ship had been unloaded and again I puzzled over our lack of engagement on the journey over. Surely word would have got out? Surely any pirate worth his salt (saltwater?) would be eager to seize the latest in muskets and blunderbusses, complete with shot and bullets? But no, as I said, we had gone untroubled.

      Sebastian patted my face twice, grinning his gratitude. He hurried from the room. I took one last glance at my deceased father in law, his innards held in place as though glazed on a pastry.

      Dominic! Sebastian summoned me from the doorway. I hurried to be near him, loath to let him out of my sight.

      It occurred to me as I followed him down dank and stony steps that I couldn’t remember ever telling him my name.

      ***

      The cellar, with its thick walls and iron gates, had indeed been piled high with crates I recognised from the ship. Sebastian jemmied a couple open, pulling out firearms and examining them in the thin light that trickled in from a high grille.

      He seemed disappointed. He seemed to be an expert.

      I didn’t realise handling weapons was part of silver service, I tried to sound casual in my probing of his past. I wanted to know everything about him, but perhaps this was not the best time to ask.

      He looked away from the flintlock he was inspecting and his eyes glinted blue in the dim illumination. Handled your weapon all right, did I not? He grinned to see me fluster with embarrassment. My breeches twitched.

      Sebastian selected a variety of guns and secured them behind the belt that encircled his slim waist. He instructed me to do the same. I reached for weapons similar to his selection. He watched me with amusement.

      I’ve never touched a - a - gun before, I told him, embarrassed again.

      He reached out and cupped the back of my head in his palm. So much to teach you! he sighed but his smile told me he was looking forward to class.

      We filled our pockets with bullets and heavy pouches of shot. I was worried my breeches would fall down. Sebastian chuckled at my ungainly willingness to please and assured me, he would take charge if we encountered any hostile persons on our way to the docks.

      The docks! I exclaimed and at once felt foolish. Of course the docks! We couldn’t exactly stay where we were, could we?

      Sebastian watched me, seemingly reading my thoughts, as I worked this out for myself.

      Stay close! he urged, as if I needed encouragement on that score. He led me back up the stony steps, from the mustiness of the cellar.

      And into the barrel of a blunderbuss.

      ***

      Now let me see if I’ve got this straight. The broad-chested fellow in the three-cornered hat was pacing up and down the Governor’s office with one hand behind his back. The blunderbuss with which he had greeted us was in the crook of his other arm. Sebastian, standing behind my chair, eyed it warily as though it might attack at any second. You and your manservant here were arming yourselves for fear of another attack.

      That is quite correct, I nodded, trying to imitate the imperious way the late Governor Wilkins had addressed me.

      Attack from what, is what I want to know, the man’s eyebrows leapt up like furry butterfly larvae bouncing on a mattress.

      Why, the - the pirates, of course!

      The larvae rose further still.

      I saw no pirates, he sneered sourly. I was late for the wedding, I’ll grant you that. If you says you’re the groom then I suppose I shall have to take your word for it, given your fancy togs and all. Just arrived in Pierrepoint today, you say?

      This very morning.

      He nodded as though that confirmed something or other. I decided to take the initiative and assert myself in this interview.

      You have yet to introduce yourself, sirrah, I reminded him.

      The fellow smiled and it was an unexpected smile, like one you’d be surprised to see on a bull’s lips or a pig’s. Oh, everybody here knows me, he touched the foremost corner of his hat with his free hand. But of course you’re not from around here, you say.

      I do say, I nodded. I became aware of Sebastian looming a little closer.

      I’m the Constable, the fellow indicated his dark blue attire as if that meant something. I mean, anyone can wear a cloak of serge and a big pair of boots. Jinks is the name. Archibald to my nears and dears. Your man, here. He jerked the blunderbuss towards Sebastian.

      What of him?

      Make the crossing with you, did he? I thought I knew all of the Governor’s staff by sight.

      He, um, ah... I stammered. Sebastian cleared his throat.

      Permit me, Master, he nodded. With an ingratiating smile he addressed the Constable, explaining how he had been engaged specifically that morning to be Master Drubbins’s man. The Governor - may the Lord rest him - had deemed it necessary.

      Is this true? Jinks’s red eyes swivelled around to me. I was marvelling at how slick and easy the lies dripped from Sebastian’s mouth. It was a talent that, at the time, I admired.

      Of course it is, man! I did my best to sound affronted.

      And where are they now, these pirates of yours? Where did they go? How did they get in?

      They were all valid questions but I had no answers, not even tenuous ones.

      And, Jinks leaned in and the waft of stale breath that assailed my nose betrayed the reason for his late arrival. The man had been sleeping off a large quantity of rum and now, embarrassed he had missed the overt slaughter of the Governor and dozens of others, was taking it out on me, how comes you weren’t dispatched along with the rest of them? How come you’re still here, in the pink and pretty as a picture? Answer me that.

      Again I could only um and ah.

      Constable, if I may? Sebastian beckoned with his head for the policeman to join him in a corner of the room. They conversed in low tones. Jinks looked across at me and appeared highly amused.

      They returned. Sebastian resumed his station behind my chair and Jinks, his eyes twinkling, raised his blunderbuss.

      If what your man has just told me is true, then your absence from the banquet is understandable, but I’m not sure I’m buying into that.

      I cast a puzzled look over my shoulder at Sebastian but he was staring directly ahead, his expression inscrutable.

      Be that as it may, and all other questions aside, there is still the matter of the Governor’s daughter. Your good lady wife, sir.

      What of her?

      That’s exactly my question! Jinks aimed the gun at my chest. What’s become of her? There’s neither hide nor hair of her in that room. Where is she?

      I don’t bloody know! I protested, going cross-eyed looking at the open mouth of the gun barrel.

      If you, in your eagerness, have done something to her, now’s the time to speak up and we’ll take it from there.

      My eagerness for what? I have done nothing to her or with her! I resent your implications, sirrah. You fail to realise that since the Governor’s demise, I assume responsibility for this outpost.

      That was true. Because everyone else had been bumped off, I was the only one left to run the place and I was pretty sure I outranked some jumped-up Constable.

      I’ll grant you that, sir, Jinks touched his hat again. On account of that, I am prepared to give you a little leeway. I won’t just shoot you here, sir. We’ll go down to the gaol where you can await trial and then hanging. It’s only right and proper.

      Don’t do me any favours, I grumbled. Sebastian’s hand brushed my shoulder, ever so lightly. I thought I’d imagined it and I’m guessing Jinks didn’t see it. That fleeting touch, imagined or no, put steel in my backbone.

      Constable, I began, calmly pushing the gun aside, you cannot possibly imagine that I, even with the assistance of my man here, could stage a scene of such widespread slaughter in the time it took you to stagger up from the gaol house to the mansion, with nary a mark upon me and not a drop of blood in the whole place.

      Jinks opened his mouth and closed it again. His jowls continued to wobble afterwards.

      Who perpetrated this abominable act, this atrocity on a grand scale, I do not know. What became of my darling Cecily... I broke off for a judicious clearing of my throat, I cannot say. Would that I knew she was living still!

      Thankfully, before my grammar could deteriorate further, Sebastian made his move. While I had been banging on, he had stole around the room and, seizing one of the Governor’s ornamental china vases, launched it at the Constable’s head. It was enough to surprise the man. Sebastian sprang on him and within seconds, the portly figure of Jinks was tied to the chair, bound by the ornate fabric of the bell pull and gagged by his own grubby handkerchief. He fought against his confinement but was stilled by the barrel of the blunderbuss touching his fleshy nose.

      By my side, Sebastian trained pistols on the man despite my assertion that they would not be necessary.

      I shall find my Cecily, I told the lawman, I shall bring her here as proof of her continuing existence and my innocence. I suggest you spend the interim fashioning your best apology.

      Jinks squirmed and wriggled and harrumphed. Sebastian brained him with the butt of a pistol.

      What did you do that for? I asked.

      Why did you tell him you’d - oh! Sebastian was exasperated. Then he seemed to change. His expression softened. "I am sorry. You are

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