Pirates! 8

Silky was waiting for them. Pete's boys, save Francois, took the gangplank. As quickly as they could, they settled onto their benches. Pete had already ordered the mast raised, before this business was ever undertook, and the ship's anchor was ready to raise. The two crewman that remained aboard took the covering fire, and the ship was ready to depart by the time the ammunition ran low. The Colonel ran inside the house, to the parapet, where the seadog had stood with his only love moments before.

Inigo saw the black man running across the open ground. He sized up his shot carefully, and discharged his weapon when the fellow had come within fifty paces. The aim was true.

The man was dying when Inigo approached his body:

"You one of Pete's boys?" he asked.

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"I-I is."

"You look familiar to me…" the Spaniard said.

The Haitian took shallow breaths betwixt e'ry word:

"I worked for de Spanish Silver fleet, - de Platt. You are Ini-go Castillo. I worked…for…you years ago."

"So you did," smiled Inigo. "I thought I knew you." And he cooly placed his pistol against the man's head and finished the work.


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The Lusty Lady was sailing out of sight. The Colonel stood o' the parapet with his telescope, securing that his daughter was still in the good graces of those pirates. For the first time in his years, the old man was crying like a child. He could see the man in the red great-coat at the wheel. They were flying a Jolly Roger.

Hildy, the maidservant, came slowly behind him.

"Colonel O' Shea?"

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He swallowed his own voice to speak and said "Yes?"

"I-I did not want to tell you this, Mister, but I feel you should know."

"What is it?"

"Miss Rachel- she- she went with those pirates of her own volition."

The Colonel looked her directly in the eyes. "What are you saying."

"I am saying that Miss Rachel left because she arranged it so."

Rage and fear came over the Irishman's face.

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"How do you know this?"

"I heard everything. She could have killed the Whiskey man, and instead they embraced. I heard everything."

The Colonel could not control the tears. The maid tried to rub his shoulder, but he shrugged away.

"Leave me," he moaned.

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No one is certain what happened next. Perhaps the old man had felt betrayed by his little girl. Perhaps he was an angered that his map was lost to the fortune of fools. Maybe he just went one sail to the wind.

But what happened will live in the lore of St. Simmons forever. Ya see, on the same parapet where his daughter looked o'er the sea, wishin' for her freedom, was an old six-pounder cannon taken as a souvenir of his days in the service. All on the island thought it was just that; a souvenir. But no one suspected, nay had they an inklin' that the Colonel would load that cannon, point it to the sea, and with tears in his redded eyes strike a flint…

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And send the shell that sent his only daughter to hell.

The End

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