The Pirate's Legacy: New Identities

Chapter 12: Ebony and Ivory

"Roll the powder to the main hatch—no, the main hatch!"

Michael rolled his eyes in mild frustration. It was early morning and already his nerves were being worn out. Only a little more than half of the old crew had decided to return. This meant that later he'd have to go recruiting. Currently, the first mate was directing the transfer of gunpowder barrels over to the center of the main deck. The wooden lattice cover of the main hatch had been removed. A large net lay flat beside the square opening, ready to receive the barrels and bring them below deck. With the way the men's movements were still sluggish from sleep and last night's activities, Michael wished almost that the captain were here to set them straight and get them running more efficiently.

"Merciful Calypso," he muttered as he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He walked blindly down the gangplank, stopping once he stepped onto the dock. "What day is it?"

"The third of Agosto," said a familiar voice in front of him.

Michael snapped open his eyes and saw only one of the Twins. "Where's Daryl?" He scanned his surroundings in case the Twins were plotting something.

Craig seemed to read his thoughts and forced a grin. "He fell ill last night when we went into town," he explained. "He's recov'rin' under Moira's care." Michael turned his entire attention to Craig. The boy appeared healthier himself compared to his starved complexion yesterday, but he looked very alone and a bit troubled. Michael assumed it was concern for his brother's weak condition. Craig misinterpreted the first mate's inquisitive stare. "Don't worry. I still did what ya asked," he said reassuringly. "I just had to ask Moira."

Michael straightened immediately. "What do you have for me?"

" 'Tis true some of the Tarymian ports 'round the peninsula's tip are closed off," Craig began rattling off his report. "We can't go there like the cap'n wanted."

Michael grimaced. "We'll just go somewhere else. I'm positive that the captain would want to avoid the country for a while."

Craig scowled but he didn't comment. "Moira tells me ev'ryone in town and all over Pirata are on edge because there's a new threat infestin' the seas. Draconians," he spat the word. "They sail under Tarym's queen, carrying letters of marque, and attacking merchants and pirates left, right, and center. Word is the leader of the Draconian fleet is a man named Lazarus—although," Craig couldn't help adding bitterly, "ya can't really call the beast a man."

Michael shifted uncomfortably as his thoughts went to Roger, but the boy didn't notice as he continued.

"There's been rumors late that they want to invade Pirata once they've tested the waters, with a goal of makin' the island their home base 'fore goin' after Politicka. The turrets are on alert and armed with round-the-clock watches." The turrets were large towers on either side of the loading docks within which guns were mounted. They were virtually impenetrable and the greatest defense against enemy attacks on sea. "But that's not the worst of it," Craig said darkly. "Just days ago, Lazarus battled and sank Cap'n Adams. There weren't any prisoners."

Michael felt troubled. Captain Adams was one of the most powerful pirates sailing the Three Seas. Though the man couldn't have necessarily beaten Dread Pirate Robin in a fair fight, Captain Adams would have at least put up a vicious one. Michael could now relate to the sullen look on Craig's youthful face. "Is that all you have?" he asked with a heavy sigh.

Craig's face darkened. His brows scrunched together on his forehead in consternation. "Unfortunately, mate, no." He reached behind him and pulled out from his back pocket a roll of parchment. He opened it with a smart snap and held it up.