The Pirate

My name is Mark Wallace, and I am not a son parents should be proud of. I began stealing hubcaps at age fourteen. Back then, hubcaps were beautiful and fetched a good price on the Southern California black market. The older I got, the more advanced I became in the art of theft. Then came the robbery that turned terribly wrong. A fence had planned the robbery of a high-priced jewelry store. My friend Jerry and I broke through the back door at two AM Sunday morning. We had almost finished stuffing the jewels into our bag when the owner burst through the front door. He had a pistol and yelled incomprehensible words. I believe he was Korean. Jerry carried a .22 caliber pistol that belonged to his father. He pulled out his gun and fired once, hitting the owner somewhere, but it only slowed him down. The owner began blasting away with a much larger caliber gun that knocked Jerry off his feet, his pistol flying. I hit the floor, trying to seek shelter behind the counter. Jerry lay dead, sprawled on the floor. Blood pooled from the multiple wounds he’d received. The owner said something I didn’t understand, then fell face-first. I grabbed the bag of jewels and ran for the back door. A large black man dressed in blue, very strong and angry, stood in my way. The judge sentenced me to thirty years to life.

I had settled into the prison routine when a scientist approached me with a proposition I found impossible to refuse. Doctor Ernst March was small in stature but innovative. He wrote a grant proposing a time machine where the subject would undergo molecular disassembly and reassembly in the past. Their search for subjects to test their time machine gave me a chance to shorten my sentence. I accepted the offer and have taken three hair-raising adventures back in time as far as the Roman Empire. Dr. Marsh is entering my cell now to discuss a new  adventure.

“Mister Wallace, I presume you have recovered from your last adventure. The reason I’m asking you again so soon is because of its historical and financial importance. Are you well enough to take another?”

“That depends on where it is and what you need me to find out. I still have headaches from the concussion, and the cracked ribs are no fun.”

“This trip should be easier than the previous one, and the warden has agreed to deduct five years from your sentence as a reward for undertaking it.”

This caught my attention. “I have nothing better to do. What is of such great importance?”

“Please take a seat. This is the story of James Bellamy. Born in London in 1723, he began his career as a petty thief. In 1744, the English high court forced him into servitude on board a schooner bound for the Caribbean. The crew mutinied and killed the captain. Within a year, James became captain of a pirate ship named Lonesome, which sailed out of Jamaica. In 1746, they seized an Indian convoy traveling to the Holy Land on a pilgrimage. The vessel contained vast quantities of gold, silver, and precious jewels valued today at 104 million. We have on record only one pirate who buried his treasure. Most pirate careers spanned 3-5 years before they were caught and hanged or died in battle. The experts think neither was true for Bellamy. A fishing boat discovered Lonesome floating adrift twenty kilometers off the tiny island of Barbuda in the Caribbean Sea. Struck by a plague, all the crew were dead except for Captain Bellamy, the first mate, and maybe two or three others. Some historians suggest Bellamy murdered the crew and fled with the treasure. Provided this is true, where and how did he leave? Despite extensive efforts, the authorities have not located the stolen treasure. Our department has received a substantial grant to find out from Captain Bellamy himself where he hid the treasure. The success of this trip has huge ramifications for you and my time machine.”

I like mysteries and found this one interesting. Could I pull it off? How do I gain the trust of this pirate, whom I have never met, and who has never met me? I would have to be involved in the sequence of events leading to the treasure’s disappearance.

March added another caveat. “Here is the tricky part. We don’t want to leave you at Bellamy’s mercy any longer than possible. He is a very dangerous man. We think we can narrow the time to six days.”

“What do I stand to gain if I am successful?”

After they release you from prison, there will be ten thousand dollars waiting for you in the bank, plus a five-year reduction in your sentence.

I looked around the barren cell. What could I lose? More than I expected. They outfitted me with typical sailor’s gear during that time period. A short tan jacket made of fustian, a linen collarless shirt, and baggy bell-bottom trousers. They put a silk sash across one shoulder to hold my antique pistol. Round-toed leather shoes tied with a buckle. They seem to have forgotten my cutlass. Seated in the transparent export cage, I pondered where I would end up this time.

                                                                             ***

A little disoriented from being reassembled, and the motion of the ship and the wind made it worse. I looked around at men who dressed like me but were a good bit shorter. Being six foot four and 235 pounds, I stand out when I go back in time. Someone was shouting at me over the wind and pointing to another smaller ship following behind. They were attempting to bring her alongside and secure her to my ship, which I assumed to be Lonesome. I joined others, and we pulled on ropes until the smaller ship lay secured alongside.

“You there. Come to my cabin.”

I saw a man dressed much the same as me, except for a bright red coat that came to his waist. There were two pistols in his sash, along with a cutlass and a dagger. I followed him below deck into what I assumed was the captain’s cabin. Captain James Bellamy, the man Dr. Marsh sent me to meet.

He studied me before speaking in a rough, unrefined manner. “I don’t believe we have met before. Where did you come aboard?”

“Back in Jamaica, sir. The carpenter on your crew got injured in a drunken brawl and couldn’t rejoin the ship. I volunteered to fill his position.”

“As I am sure you are aware, the plague, or some other disease, perhaps measles, has decimated the crew. No one will survive if we remain on this vessel. You seem to be untouched by the illness. Locate any men who are not sick and transfer the treasure to the other ship. The men who are dead or sick will be left behind on the ship. I am going aboard the other ship to direct the transfer. The skeleton crew on that ship is disease free and will stay where they are.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll begin right away.” I left and joined three crew members, heading for the room housing the treasure. We opened the door, and I stood there in awe. There were wooden boxes of all shapes and sizes, filled to the brim with glittering gold bars and silver coins. Jewels crammed into whatever containers were available.

It took the rest of the afternoon to transfer the loot to the hold of the other ship. I now understand half of the mystery of the missing treasure. I had to find out what happened to it now.

Captain Bellamy motioned for me to join him. “You transferred the merchandise in record time, which is good. Several more of my crew have fallen ill. I have a serious shortage of able-bodied men to crew this smaller ship to Santo Domingo. Do you have any sailing skills other than your role as a carpenter?”

I guess that means the treasure is going to Santo Domingo. Where on that island will he hide it? I had to follow the treasure. “If the sail master or pilot will be on board, I can assist them. How far are we from Santo Domingo?”

“That all depends on the wind. They are strong right now, and we should be there in two days if it continues to blow. I’m afraid the sail master is dead. The boatswain is still with us and five of the crew. We will have to make do with that.”

I looked for ways to assist the men suffering on the Lonesome. There must have been sixty dead and dying. I recognized it wasn’t smallpox. It was a plague carried by rats or fleas. Some men were bleeding from their mouths. Most of them had large pustules that had ruptured and oozed a pus-like material. I worried because I had protection against smallpox, but not against the plague. I transferred to the other boat as swiftly as possible.

Captain Bellamy was not a bad sort. He became somewhat emotional as we set Lonesome adrift. I’m uncertain whether the man is grieving over the loss of his men or losing his famous ship. The wind stayed favorable, and the captain gave me a lesson on how to steer a sailing ship. A sturdy rope fastens the transom, which is connected to the deck wheel. He allowed me to steer the ship for an hour while he took a break. When he returned, I asked where he intended to store the treasure. He told me I would see soon enough.

Late in the evening on the second day of travel, we entered the harbor. Two of the crew rowed the captain ashore, and the rest of us stayed with the ship. It was early morning before he returned. With him was a Spaniard who must have been in his eighties. He had a long grey beard and a black patch over his left eye. He used a cane and walked with a noticeable limp. I later learned his name was Rodrigo de Sevilla, a former pirate captain who retired after losing an eye and sustaining other injuries in battle. He went below deck with Captain Bellamy to view the treasure. After a considerable amount of time had elapsed, they returned, and they rowed Rodrigo back to shore. Captain Bellamy announced we would take the treasure ashore after midnight.

Midnight came, and we began rowing boatloads of treasure to the dock. Rodrigo was waiting for us with a horse and a long-bed wagon. We loaded the first load onto the wagon and covered it with a tarp. To my surprise, we headed into downtown and not to some cave inland. We were heading for a church Rodrigo called the Pantheon.

Rodrigo told me a story in broken English as we rode in the wagon. “The structure is being built by a man named Geronimo Garcon and will be a Jesuit church. It has taken us over thirty years, and we are just putting the finishing touches on the interior. I joined early on to assist in the design and direct the actual construction. I built a vault under the church at the behest of Mr. Garcon, who is now deceased. Over the years, all the workers have died or moved, and I am the only man alive today who knows the secret location of that room. It has remained unopened since its construction in 1718.”

I smiled to myself. This answers the last piece of the puzzle. I still had one lingering question. “Rodrigo, why are you doing this for Captain Bellamy? How did the two of you meet?”

Rodrigo laughed. “That is another story in itself and should be told over a beer. Perhaps we can do that after the job is done. We are just about at our destination.”

I didn’t wish to press him, so I let it go. A magnificent structure loomed before me. Built of stone, with scattered small windows and at least one portico. Rodrigo led us along a dirt path beside the building. The foundation of another structure was being dug close to the path. At the right rear corner, Rodrigo stopped and told all of us to turn around while he opened the vault. I looked back and watched as he removed a stone from the wall. He reached in and pulled something, and a section of the wall, chest-high to me, slid open. We placed the stolen items in a room with a low ceiling and organized them into separate piles of gold, silver, and jewels. It required three trips in Rodrigo’s wagon to store all the loot.

We were all tired, and the four crewmen returned to the ship. I asked Rodrigo if I could stay and enjoy a beer while listening to his promised story. He agreed and took me to a bar that had a table outside, providing a view of the ocean in the distance. Here is his story as told to me.

“I was raised in a poor family in Seville. I was ten when my father, who was a soldier, died in battle. My seafaring career began as a cabin boy on a merchant ship, studying hard to learn the skills of navigation. They offered me a position as second officer on a different ship when I was eighteen. A mutiny occurred, resulting in the captain and multiple officers being marooned on a remote island. Over the next few years, we transformed into a pirate ship and combed the Caribbean for merchant vessels. We made a living, but that was all. One day, we targeted a well-armed ship that was loaded with riches. During the battle, I sustained serious injuries, and they took me captive. There is no doubt they would have hanged me when we returned to port. The following day, our ship found itself under attack from the notorious pirate vessel known as the Lonesome. The merchant ship surrendered, and Captain Bellamy released me and my crew. He dropped us off in Santo Domingo. He gave me a small portion of the prize to help me begin a new career. I owed him my life, and we met again several times over the years. In one meeting, I revealed the secret vault to him. You are aware of the rest. The treasure is safe now for him to do with as he pleases.”

With the sun low on the horizon, I searched for the captain to inform him of my intention to remain in town. All I needed to do was stay safe for three more days until they returned me to my cell. The first mate met me at the dock and said the captain and the rest of the crew were back aboard ship. As we rowed towards the ship, a sense of unease settled deep within me. As soon as I stepped onto the deck, they raised the anchor, and we set sail again.

It was midday when we anchored offshore of a tiny, uninhabited island. Bellamy and the first mate forced us into the skiff and rowed to the island. The captain and first mate faced us with their pistols drawn. The captain had one in each hand. “I’m sorry, men," he said. "This is your new home. Trusting you with the knowledge of the treasure’s location is out of the question.” A crew member swore and attacked the first mate, who shot him in the chest. He had only one shot, and I launched myself toward his knees. The other two crewmen attacked the captain, and he shot both of them. Within minutes, I overpowered the first mate and broke his neck. The captain sprinted toward the skiff. I caught up with him a few yards offshore and overturned the boat. He landed on top of me, and we both went underwater. Fear washed over me, as I had never taken the time to learn how to swim. Turns out I was tall enough to stand on the sandy bottom while the captain struggled to stay afloat. I held him under until he quit struggling.

 I struggled back to the beach and rested on the sand, gazing at the serene blue sky and the four dead men surrounding me. As I watched the overturned skiff drifting about two hundred yards offshore, and beyond that, the schooner was even more distant, making it impossible for me to reach either vessel since I couldn’t swim. All I could do now was lie back and hope Dr. Marsh could bring me home.

***

I awoke in a hospital with Dr. Marsh seated beside the bed. “Well, young man, you must have quite a story to tell. You returned so dehydrated; the doctor said you only had hours to live. I don’t suppose you found out anything about the lost treasure?”

Marsh’s face glowed with excitement as I shared my story of the last five days. When I finished, he took my hand. “We are profoundly grateful. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

"Is there any way I can take swimming lessons in prison?"