She didn’t know a damn thing.
“Okay. I’ll come out.”
HALE WATCHED AS THE CULPRIT TRIED TO AVOID THE POKES and prods from the six men encircling him. The prisoner rounded the timber post, the flames on the candles dancing, like him, to the fiddler’s tune. He hugged the timber, drawing close, but his men showed no mercy. Nor should they. This man had attacked their sanctuary. He was part of the enemy trying to imprison them all. He’d made that clear to each one of them earlier, and they’d understood their duty.
One of the men jabbed his shovel, a sucking sound indicating that the sharpened blade had penetrated deep. The culprit lurched forward and grabbed for his left thigh, staggering around the post, trying to avoid the others. He’d cautioned them against finishing him too soon. That was the thing about the sweat. It could last as long as the captain desired.
Blood stained the man’s pants, oozing from fingers that tried to keep the wound contained.
Wax dripped from the candles. Perspiration beaded on the victim’s brow. He raised a halting hand.
The music stopped.
His men ceased their prodding.
“Are you ready to answer my question?” he asked.
The culprit panted, trying to grab his breath. “NIA,” the man finally said.
Just as he suspected.
He motioned to one of the men holding a knife. Two of the others dropped their tools and grabbed the wounded man by the shoulders and arms, forcing him down to his knees. A third locked his fingers onto a handful of hair and angled the head back. The man with the knife approached and, with one slice, removed the prisoner’s right ear.
A howl filled the prison.
Hale stepped over, retrieved the ear, and ordered, “Open his mouth.”
They did.
He stuffed the ear past the man’s front teeth and protesting tongue.
“Eat it,” he said, “or I’ll cut the other one off.”
The man’s eyes went wild at the thought.
“Chew it,” he screamed.
The man shook his head and gurgled as he fought for breath.
Hale motioned and his men released their grip.
He raised the gun he was holding and shot the man in the face.
CASSIOPEIA HAD SEEN PEOPLE DIE BEFORE, BUT IT SICKENED her still. Stephanie, too, was surely hardened. But Shirley Kaiser apparently had never witnessed a murder. She heard Kaiser’s gasp and watched as the older woman turned away.
Stephanie offered comfort.
Cassiopeia kept her gaze on Hale. He stared over at her, past the bars, and pointed with the gun.
“Now, little lady. It’s your turn to answer questions.”
SEVENTY-SEVEN
and tied with ribbons. A sling draped his broad shoulders and held a brace of pistols. Smart, politically astute, and bold beyond measure. No one knew his real name. Thatch? Tache? He chose Edward Teach, but his nickname was the one that everyone remembered.
Black Beard.
Born in Bristol but raised in the West Indies he’d served with Jamaican-based privateers during the War of Spanish Succession. After, he arrived in the Bahamas and signed on with the pirate Hornigold, learning the trade, and eventually acquiring his own ship. In January 1718 he came to Bath Town and established a base at the mouth of the Pamlico River, on Ocracoke Island. From there he pillaged ships and bribed the local governor for protection. He cruised the Caribbean and blockaded Charles Town harbor. Then he retired, sold his plunder, bought a house in Bath, and secured a pardon for all his past acts. He even managed to gain title to the vessels he’d captured. All of which made the adjacent colony of Virginia both angry and nervous. So much so that its governor vowed to flush out the pirate’s nest that was Bath Town.
Two armed sloops arrived at sundown on November 21, 1718, stopping just outside Ocracoke Inlet, far enough away so that the unfamiliar shoals and channels would not pose a danger. Royal Navy fighting men crewed the boats and Lieutenant Robert Maynard commanded them, an experienced officer of great bravery and resolution.
Black Beard, aboard his anchored ship Adventure, paid the vessels little mind. He was through with fighting. For six months he’d plied the local waters unmolested. His crew was greatly reduced, as there was no profit associating with a man who no longer looted vessels. Most of his experienced shipmates were either long gone or ashore in Bath. All that remained on board were twenty or so, a third of whom were Negroes.
Some precautions, though, were taken.
Powder, balls, and scrap were stacked near the eight mounted guns. Blankets were soaked and hung around the magazine, there for any deck fires that might occur. Pistols and cutlasses were piled near battle stations. All routine. Just in case. But they would not dare attack him, Black Beard was heard to say.
The assault began in the early gray light of dawn.
Maynard’s force outnumbered Black Beard’s three to one. But in their haste to gain an advantage, Maynard’s sloops ran aground in the shallow water. Black Beard could have easily fled northward, but he was no coward. Instead he hoisted a mug of liquor and yelled across the water, “Damnation seize my soul if I give you quarter or take any from you.”
Maynard hollered back, “I expect no quarter from you, nor shall I give any.”
They both knew. This would be a fight to the death.
Black Beard aimed his eight cannons at the two sloops and barraged them with mortars. One sloop was disabled, the other badly damaged. But the effort caused Adventure to ground on a shoal, too. Maynard, seeing his adversaries’ predicament, ordered all water barrels staved and ballast jettisoned. Then, like a hand from providence, a stiff breeze blew in from the sea and pushed him free of the sandbar, sending him straight for Adventure.
Maynard ordered all his men belowdecks, their pistols and swords ready for close fighting. He himself hid belowdecks with them, a midshipman at the helm. The idea was to draw his adversary into boarding.
Black Beard alerted his men to ready their grappling irons and weapons. He also produced an invention of his own. Bottles filled with powder, shot, and pieces of iron and lead, ignited by fuses worked into the center. Later generations would call them hand grenades. He used them to create havoc and pandemonium.
The explosives landed on Maynard’s sloop and enveloped the deck in dense smoke. But since most of the men were below, they had little effect. Seeing so few hands on board, Black Beard shouted, “They are all knocked on the head but three or four. Board her and cut them to pieces.”
The ships touched. Grappling irons clanked across the bulwarks.
Black Beard was the first to board.
Ten of his men followed.
Shots were fired at anything that moved.
Maynard timed his response with precision, waiting until nearly all of his opponent’s men were aboard, then allowing his forces to burst from the hold.
Confusion reigned.
The surprise worked.
Black Beard immediately grasped the problem and rallied his men. Each fight became hand-to-hand. Blood slicked the deck. Maynard fought his quarry directly and leveled a pistol. Black Beard did the same. The pirate
