Black Sam - Prince of Pirates

Ten - THE FIRE

 Ten – THE FIRE

 May 1717

 Thomas Davis hummed a tune while scratching the thirteenth mark on the old brick wall next to his bed. The jail cell was dank, dark, and lonely. A wool blanket sat folded at the head of a small wooden cot. He lay down with his hands behind his head and stared up into the rafters. The roughhewn wood reminded him of the Whydah. He recalled the time spent at sea looking up at similar wood beams and remembering the sway of the ocean. His memory collided with his current steady state and caused a slight dizzy sensation. He closed his eyes and lingered in nostalgia.

 It was quiet, and though he used to long for such solitude when first subjected to pirate life, he found this to be unnerving. He had never been so lonely, even with other inmates in nearby cells. With all the nights at sea spent away from his wife and kids, nothing compared to the heartache he felt for them tonight.

 “We sailed from the shores away from our homeland.

 We sailed from the shores away from our homes…”

 Thomas stopped singing and sniffed the air. Sitting up straight on his bed, the stench of scorched wood filled his nostrols. He made his way through the darkness to the iron bars, but the smell grew thicker.

 “Can you smell that?” a voice said from the darkness.

 Thomas did not answer.

 “Where do you think it’s coming from?”

 Thomas had a good idea of where it was coming from, but he did not feel like talking. The smoke came on fast and thick. If the jail wasn’t burning yet, the attached courthouse was. It was only a matter of time.

 “It’s the jail, isn’t it? It’s the jail. I know it’s the jail,” Thomas’s neighbor mumbled. “Are we going to die?” Mumbling turned to crying. His voice grated on Thomas’s nerves. “We're going to die; I know we're going to die.” The man’s words echoed loudly against the cold rock walls. He was obviously mad, and Thomas did his best to ignore him.

 The deranged man began to sob hysterically. “We’re going to die.”

 “Shut up you slag.” A different man yelled from the other side of the jail.

 “We’re going to die! I know we’re going to die.”

 “Shut up before I break out of this cell and kill you myself.”

 The room fell silent again except for some sniffles. As the smoke thickened, the air thinned, and it became more difficult to breath. The crazy man’s hacking sounded as though he would expel a lung any moment. Thomas’ breathing became choked. He went back to his bed and sat down. The air was noticeably clearer. He’s right, Thomas thought. Nobody’s going to care about a bunch of pirates burning to death.

                                                                                      ***

 The squatty jailor had fled the inside of the building as soon as he smelled smoke. He watched as the fire consumed the courthouse, spitting flames out the broken windows and into the night sky.

 An ornate carriage flew down the road behind the jailor. The horse’s hooves dug in hard as the driver pulled the reins, bringing the coach to a quick stop. The door flew open and out stepped a man with a grey powdered wig, black cloak, and black goatee.

 “Sir Fitzjames, you gave me such a start.” The jailor tried to catch his breath. “What are you doing here?”

 “It’s just Cade. You got the inmates out, of course,” Cade said walking toward the jailor.