sails and make fast to the bottom. I be coming aboard thy vessel.”
Marty Read strolled across the main deck and joined Warren at the railing. The two friends watched with fascination as the helmsman aboard Crowley listened to Blackbeard’s words and absorbed the meaning of his demands.
“What do you think he’ll do?” Warren asked. “Will he try to run past us to the sea? We don’t have any sails up. He could go right by.”
Marty smiled and shook his head. “Me thinks not,” he said. “The captain will cast such a fright into that ship, I vouch he’ll heave to.”
Activity at Crowley’s helm station suddenly burst into a fever pitch. A second sailor dashed to the wheel and began to frantically tug on the spokes in an effort to turn the ship around. The original master fought the maneuver and pulled in the opposite direction.
“Fire the cannon,” Blackbeard shouted.
The pirate holding the burning stick touched the end to the wick. The charge exploded and the cannonball was propelled toward Crowley through a nearly perfect ring of smoke.
A loud crack sounded from the passenger ship as the flying cannonball smacked into the mast. Splinters sprayed into the air and the top of the tall mast drooped at an alarming angle. The billowing fabric of the sail crumpled as half the air escaped.
“Ahoy, the Crowley ,” Blackbeard called when the chaos settled on the helm station. “Luff thy sails and come alongside. None aboard need die if ye act with thy brains and not thy hearts.”
When Crowley was secured to the port side of Queen Anne’s Revenge , Captain Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet crossed to the captured ship’s deck and gathered the entire host of passengers and its crew.
Crowley’s captain was a man named Oliver Marks. He stepped forward and introduced himself. “Damnation, sir,” he said to Blackbeard with annoyance. “What be ye vile pirates doing in these waters? We be a peaceful ship on passage to New York with prominent citizens of Charles Town. I thought the likes of ye villains confined thyselves to the Caribbean.”
“Per chance the pickings be sweeter in these waters,” Blackbeard said. “I seek medical supplies and drink for me crew and the gold jingling loose in thy pockets.”
A man stepped forward dressed in a silk shirt and a tailored suit. He wore a tall, round hat. A brightly colored ascot was fastened around his neck. A diamond pin was stuck in the silk accoutrement.
“My name, sir,” he said haughtily to Blackbeard, “is Mr. Samuel Wragg, president of the Council of the Province of Carolina. How dare ye interrupt our lawful voyage on the high seas? And from what benighted family doest thou hail?”
A strange smile inched across Blackbeard’s bewhiskered face. His expression personified evil. The curling tendrils of smoke surrounding his large head added a satanic aura.
“Ye failed to notice me banner?” he said with a wry grin. “Canst thou not see I’m the devil incarnate? Do ye wish to challenge me the right to lighten thy pockets of all thy pieces of eight?”
“I . . . I’m not a fighting man, sir,” Wragg stammered.
“Then I suggest ye step back and hear me demands,” Blackbeard growled. “All the passengers of Crowley are me captives. I’ll be sending thy Captain Marks back to Charles Town for the medicine and rum we require and certain quantities of gold. If he fails to return in two days, I’ll remove the head from every last one of ye and send them to the governor. Then I will burn every ship in the Charles Town harbor.”
Samuel Wragg’s face blanched when he heard Blackbeard’s terms. His throat constricted and he couldn’t swallow. “I’ll write a letter to the governor for Captain Marks to carry,” he said when he had gathered his voice. “But ye must agree to release us when the medicine and gold arrives.”
“Ye have me word, sir,” Blackbeard vowed.
“I’ll secure the prisoners below,” Stede Bonnet offered. “Perhaps ye
Marty Read strolled across the main deck and joined Warren at the railing. The two friends watched with fascination as the helmsman aboard Crowley listened to Blackbeard’s words and absorbed the meaning of his demands.
“What do you think he’ll do?” Warren asked. “Will he try to run past us to the sea? We don’t have any sails up. He could go right by.”
Marty smiled and shook his head. “Me thinks not,” he said. “The captain will cast such a fright into that ship, I vouch he’ll heave to.”
Activity at Crowley’s helm station suddenly burst into a fever pitch. A second sailor dashed to the wheel and began to frantically tug on the spokes in an effort to turn the ship around. The original master fought the maneuver and pulled in the opposite direction.
“Fire the cannon,” Blackbeard shouted.
The pirate holding the burning stick touched the end to the wick. The charge exploded and the cannonball was propelled toward Crowley through a nearly perfect ring of smoke.
A loud crack sounded from the passenger ship as the flying cannonball smacked into the mast. Splinters sprayed into the air and the top of the tall mast drooped at an alarming angle. The billowing fabric of the sail crumpled as half the air escaped.
“Ahoy, the Crowley ,” Blackbeard called when the chaos settled on the helm station. “Luff thy sails and come alongside. None aboard need die if ye act with thy brains and not thy hearts.”
When Crowley was secured to the port side of Queen Anne’s Revenge , Captain Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet crossed to the captured ship’s deck and gathered the entire host of passengers and its crew.
Crowley’s captain was a man named Oliver Marks. He stepped forward and introduced himself. “Damnation, sir,” he said to Blackbeard with annoyance. “What be ye vile pirates doing in these waters? We be a peaceful ship on passage to New York with prominent citizens of Charles Town. I thought the likes of ye villains confined thyselves to the Caribbean.”
“Per chance the pickings be sweeter in these waters,” Blackbeard said. “I seek medical supplies and drink for me crew and the gold jingling loose in thy pockets.”
A man stepped forward dressed in a silk shirt and a tailored suit. He wore a tall, round hat. A brightly colored ascot was fastened around his neck. A diamond pin was stuck in the silk accoutrement.
“My name, sir,” he said haughtily to Blackbeard, “is Mr. Samuel Wragg, president of the Council of the Province of Carolina. How dare ye interrupt our lawful voyage on the high seas? And from what benighted family doest thou hail?”
A strange smile inched across Blackbeard’s bewhiskered face. His expression personified evil. The curling tendrils of smoke surrounding his large head added a satanic aura.
“Ye failed to notice me banner?” he said with a wry grin. “Canst thou not see I’m the devil incarnate? Do ye wish to challenge me the right to lighten thy pockets of all thy pieces of eight?”
“I . . . I’m not a fighting man, sir,” Wragg stammered.
“Then I suggest ye step back and hear me demands,” Blackbeard growled. “All the passengers of Crowley are me captives. I’ll be sending thy Captain Marks back to Charles Town for the medicine and rum we require and certain quantities of gold. If he fails to return in two days, I’ll remove the head from every last one of ye and send them to the governor. Then I will burn every ship in the Charles Town harbor.”
Samuel Wragg’s face blanched when he heard Blackbeard’s terms. His throat constricted and he couldn’t swallow. “I’ll write a letter to the governor for Captain Marks to carry,” he said when he had gathered his voice. “But ye must agree to release us when the medicine and gold arrives.”
“Ye have me word, sir,” Blackbeard vowed.
“I’ll secure the prisoners below,” Stede Bonnet offered. “Perhaps ye
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