The Spirit Of The Buccaneers
"My frightening experience of that day or rather that night was really wierd. Happened about a month ago... Don’t interrupt; hear me out. The events that I will spell out might sound strange; but the incident, which I will detail, will be the truth, so help me! I was actually sheltered during a heavy rainstorm in a stone manor house belonging to a buccaneer. Yes, buccaneer, a freebooter, call it any name. And there was more to the incident - oaths of treachery, the flow of the traitor’s payment and the final end in the hands of the King’s men at arms. It was if I had travelled back into the past. Of course you’ll find it hard to believe me when the words will be uttered. I’ll understand your doubt. "Let me start from the very beginning... I was travelling along the eastern provinces of Canada; writing a series of travel articles on the area, which was commissioned, for a stateside newspaper. I’m one penman in their stable of travel writers - tell the good readers where to spend their vacation time. I’m not bragging, but I’m well known as a top writer in the field. My speciality is budget travelling. My paunch is proof of my avid attention to delectable and filling meals at low cost, that I advise my readers to taste. Well read to this very day even though the white began to mix with gray of my thinning hair, and the added wrinkles to my smile spread all over my puss. Sorry. Got off the track for a moment. Pardon the lecture! Now where were we? Ohh yes! I" started to tell about the strange events of that day and night. Now... "It was a spring day that woke up to warmth of the sun, the beginning of a perfect day to scout the surrounding area for material for my copy. I was quite busy with scanning the road map, the interviews at the hosteleries, collecting of brochures, tapping on the humming laptop and the clicking of my cameras. But during the late hours of the afternoon, heavily laden clouds gathered and darkened the air about. The former sun-filled day turned to the gloom of gray, which dimmed the very sight; barely able to see layout of the area through the thickness of my specs. "The winds of the Atlantic drove in moisture filled clouds that practically touched the tips of the grey hills. I was driving along a desolate road along an empty stretch between the barren rock-strewn hills and the cold choppy sea when the heavens opened. Now, when it rains in these parts, it really pours. Rushing waters, from the heavy rainfall, filled the gulleys and ravines, racing down to the lowlands. Driving was difficult due to the force of the accompanying fierce winds; the windows as well as my glasses fogged with mist and I was quite busy with cloths. Danger loomed as the winding road was awash with the flowing water, making its boundaries difficult to discern. "Common sense warned me to find a high safe place along the road, which I did. I drove my car to the side of the route near a rising of a hillock: even dashed outside to block the front wheels with heavy rocks. Felt safe as I waited for the skies to clear a bit. The falling rain drummed steadily on the roof, pounding its threat. But I was snug in the warmth of my coupe’ and I felt safe from the threatening storm. I relaxed and heard only the boring rhythm of the falling rain. ‘Plink, plink’ the sound tattooed steadily on the metal; it drove a steady beat that slowly carried me to the goddess of slumber. "I do not know how many hours I had drifted into a stiff-necked sleep, but when I awoke it was dark all around. The gloom of night had fallen, but the storm had abated for a few brief moments in its fierceness. Time to make my departure. I started the engine, which spluttered and coughed until the spark of power ran through the motor. Then I switched on the headlights to high-beam. Flooded fields were all about but the lines of the road was easy to distinguish without much difficulty. "I backed away from the blocking rocks and slowly edged the car foward onto the tarred road, driving carefully through pools of collected water; didn’t want to wet the battery and stall. The blow of the winds had started to increase, forcing me to drive with extreme caution. As I looked ahead I saw in the distance, in the wan light of the moon, added rain clouds blowing in from the Atlantic coast. "Suddenly I spotted, through the gloom and misery of the stormy night, lights pinpointing through the misty air. The brightness grew as I drove towards the welcoming beacon. The road curved and ran down a small hill towards a gravel road leading to a large stone house along the wave-tossed coast. When I drove close to the sighting of the edifice, I noticed shimmery lights shining from its many windows. Hoped-for shelter was in my sight and I prayed that the occupants of the house would understand my predicament and offer respite. "The wide gravel-filled track was on the left of the tarred road, just wide enough to drive my car, without skidding into the muddy fields. The track, I would say was about a quarter of a mile long, winding and curving around huge grey boulders along its route. The road was on level ground and driving was not so difficult; and pretty soon I entered a wide pebbly courtyard in front of the edifice. "The building, seen through the glare of my headlights, was quite impressive; grand I would say. It was a large two-storey mansion built of rough-hewn stone covered with a slateroof. There was no patio leading to the ornate entrance, only a square of cut rough stone. The massive door, I would say, was built of thick oak lumber with bronze hinges and lock plates. Above the center was a heavy knocker; its head was a bit scarey, as it was carved in the semblance of a skull’s head. The entranceway was set in a decorated stone pillars carved with mythical beasts and vine tendrils; and the lintel between the posts was decorated with abstract symbols with the stone heads of two fierce-looking gargoyles set within niches at the ends. "My eyes searched out the facade of this imposing building. Candle light was flickering brilliantly from every window on the bottom floors; I had guessed that the storm might of cut the electric power. But I was wrong in my assumption, as there was no signs of wires bringing current to the house. Strange! Yet the candlelight was strong enough to illuminate the inside rooms and the grounds on the outside. "There seemed to be a party or some sort of celebration taking place as I heard the sound of raucous voices and the cadence of musical instruments. With a bit of curiosity I made my way carefully to one of the windows, trying to hide in the shadows underneath. I peered within and much to my surprise noticed a masquerade party with the men in the dress of seamen of old and the young women as tavern wenches. "Then something strange was sighted when I searched the lighted windows; it looked wierd in my eyes, rather odd. There seemed to be many celebrants in the house, yet when they were near the windows, their shadows were not reflected by the flashes of light on the grounds. ‘Another thing that was noticed or rather not noticed was the absence of vehicles of any sorts only my solitary horsepower. True, the house was large with many rooms, but with such a crowd... Well, I figured that with such jollity, they were guests of the house and were making merry throughout the night. Still it was strange with the absence of any wheels. "The banging of one of the iron shutters in the upper floors caused me to hide deeper in the shadows. I looked up and noticed a large open window and from the dark interior two frilly beribboned sleeves emerged; two gnarled hands grabbed the adjacent shutters and slammed them shut. Wasn’t able to see the face of the chap - too dark. In fact I wasn’t able to see any body except the two frilly sleeved arms. Quickly I hurried back to the doorway - didn’t want to be caught snooping about. "Without warning the flowing winds increased in fury, blowing renewed storms clouds before them. Silver dollar size splatters of rain began to fall, increasing with the blowing of the fierce winds. Shelter was needed quickly, so I grabbed the skull handle knocker and rapped hard on the timbers. The door creakily opened slowly, slowly but no one was seen at the open door frame. Nobody! "The pelting rain forced me to forget my manners and wait for my host; I just entered inside without, ‘if you please’. Still I saw nobody within, ready to greet me and inquire of my presence. Nobody! I closed the door carefully as I entered but the bronze hinges squealed to my entrance. All I saw or rather heard were the festivities carrying on in the other rooms. The corridor door leading to them was closed with a glimmer of light shining through at the bottom. I guessed with such ruckus echoing throughout the mansion that it would be impossible for anyone hearing my knocking. But how did the heavy door open? "I called out loudly ‘anyone here’ as I entered into a large entrance hall, but there was no answer to my call. Another call in a louder tone, but again, no reply. I looked about the interior of the foyer. It was sparsely furnished with only two plush armchairs, a cushioned setee and a large oaken table set near a large hearth roaring warmly with crackling logs. The walls were panelled with dark wood, ornamented with implements of cold steel and shot hanging on bronze hooks. A circular candelbra with dripping lit candles hung from an equally dark wood panelled ceiling set high. I noticed on the far side of the room a winding and wide staircase leading to the upper floor. "A cold chill gripped my body. Maybe it was from the mysterious reception or just the cold from the stormy night. Needed warmth, so I just moseyed over to the inviting fireplace. A few shining silver decanters with ornamented decorations, along with a few pewter mugs were lined on the marble shelf. Could use a spot of something to warm the innards. So, after partaking of the warmth of the welcoming fire, I took leave from my absent host and took one of the containers and a mug, which I placed, on the table. Then, with a comfortable sigh, I spread my tired body onto the comfort of a plush armchair. "Without further ado I removed the crystal glass topper from the silver decanter and decanted a splash of its contents into the pewter. It smelled of rum as the fiery liquid flowed its heat inside my body. I coughed as I imbibed; the potent drink was fiery to the taste. It felt good after I caught my breath and started to enjoy the spirits. After finishing the contents of the mug, I relaxed in the plushness of the chair. "From a distant hall I heard the booming of chiming tones of a clock, ringing out the beat of thetwelfth hour. An eerie silence followed the chiming, not even the sound of revelry. All was quiet. Suddenly I noticed a light coming from the corridors of the upper floor. The light grew brighter as it neared the staircase. Then I saw a gnarled hand from a frilly sleeved arm holding high a candle flickering on large ornate candleholder. My eyes followed the held-lit candle as it made its way down the staircase towards me. A gnarled hand from the second frilly sleeve shot out and beckoned me to stand and followed him or it. I looked hard but I was unable to see the outline of a figure between the arms. I was prickled with fright but I obeyed the beckoning limb. "I followed the frilly sleeves till we came to one end of the hall. A sign ordered me to stop. Then the free gnarled veined hand pressed the top of one of the wood panels and a hidden door swung open creakily onto a dark passage. From its depth I heard the roar of the raging sea and tasted the smell of the salty air. "The gnarled hand signed and I obeyed its command. The flickery candle was held high guiding me through a cold and damp passage. The wan light shadowed my form on the damp wall, but there was no sign of the guiding ghostly limb. "Slowly my trembly legs made their way through the dim passage and wavered unsteadily in indecision. Suddenly the course of the tallow flame directed my steps to a low-ceilinged room; its sealed weathered door had unlocked at a touch. The dank air inside was suffocating when I entered and my breathing labored; but, within a moment or two, fresh, yet salty air flowed in. It refreshed the air and slowly the breathing in my lungs resumed its normal pace. "The hand from the frilly sleeved arm placed the candleholder on a small table. The second withered hand reappeared from the other beribboned sleeve. The thin veined hands were shaking as they removed a small chest from a shelf on the wall, which was placed on the table. The gnarled hands produced a key and with a bit of fiddling opened the chest. The sight was dazzling to the sight. Unbelievable! In front of my eyes was a case with shining gold and silver coins crammed inside. A treasure beyond words. "Somewhere, the hands from the frilly sleeved arms produced a small leathern hunter’s bag. The gnarled hands trembled as they filled the pouch with the gold and silver coins, not pausing until it was filled. Then with a flourish the hands closed the bag with thick leather thongs. A veined hand grabbed the pouch and the frilly sleeved arms came towards me. The coin-filled bag seemed to flow in the air. "Strange words were uttered from my lips. ‘Tis’ not be my price, Ye be a’ needin’ t’ pay more...’ I called out rather loud without understanding the reason for my outcry. "Shet yer yeller tongue, an’ take yer portion and not a shilling more!’ a hidden voice called out from the deep darkness, ‘Ye yellow-bellied scapegrace, yer perfidy should b’ given in hemp, not in silver and gold... blood, blood.’ ‘Before I could answer, the filled leather pouch was thrust against my body. I took hold of it with two hands and felt the heavy weight. Then darkness spun its web around me. ,"The storm had passed the following day and the rays of the early morning sun warmed me as I drove from the gravelly shoulder to the road leading towards my destination. All was quiet; even the Atlantic swells lapped to the shoreline with hardly a murmur. All was empty nothing to be seen except for large cairn at a near-distant cliff facing the shoreline and large boulders lining a wide track leading to the sea. "The mystery of the night before was a memory; thought I took refuge in a large stone two-storeyed house. Perhaps it was a strange nightmare, but there I was making my way quite refreshed. I shrugged my shoulders as if to discount the thought. One of my hands passed over my chin and I found to my surprise that I was clean-shaven and lightly powdered. Strange! I allowed my hand to run over the garments on my body and found they were cleanly ironed and that I was dressed neatly. It was a funny feeling as I thought I had slept in my car; and I should have been a mess. I started to scratch my head in puzzlement and again, to my surprise, my hair was well groomed and slicked with fragrant oils. "A flash of red on the panel of the car disturbed my thoughts. Running low on fuel. Fortunately I sighted a gasoline station close at hand along the winding road. A small town was nearby as I noticed some stone, slate roofed buildings with smoking chimneys all about. I drove into the gas station. Not modern I would say. In fact it reminded me of a relic of the early thirties. It had one pump driven by hand power, a weathered shack was nearby displaying oils and grease. And the attendant was a thin greying geezer, way passed retirement. Well, never mind, I needed gas and shouldn’t be bothered by such scenic sights, but I must remember to include it in my projected article - a visitor should be tanked up in order to avoid such antiques. "Well, the chap’s lingo was Canuck French spattered with broken English, and I only spoke American English sprinkled with French of my memory. Somehow between our languages we were able to make ourselves understood. The attendant hand-pumped a quantity of fuel of an unknown grade into the tank of my two-door. We entered into a bit of conversation, which was mainly about yesterday’s storm. "Told him that I was really lucky as I had sheltered in a large stone mansion during the fury of storm. I explained by words and hand gestures that the house was set along the road a couple of miles back. Somehow I managed to describe the house and that it was lit by candle. Told him that there had been festivities going on. Asked the old timer if there be any holidays celebrated by the good folk at this time - would make an interesting point for my readers. "The veteran stared at me as if I was mad. He yelled at me that I was quite mistaken, as there is no house of that description anywhere nears the settlement. Told him that I wasn’t deaf and he should tone his voice. Well, in a not so quiet voice, he swore that he has lived in these parts for a good deal of years, and to his memory, no such mansion existed. That the nearest building to his settlement was many miles back along the road. ‘ "No house near here, no mansion, non monsieur!" he spluttered. "As we argued back and forth in broken English, stuttering French and hand gestures, a vintage jalopy pulled into the station and parked behind my car. The doors opened and two aged citizens emerged, a withered old crow and a thin old duffer. The attendant rushed to them and with verbal exclamation told them of my so-called craziness. He pointed a finger at me and the threesome gesticulated, shrugged their shoulders and nodded their heads. ‘ "No house, non, non, monsieur! You must be mistaken," he said when he returned. "The station attendant verbally told me that the ancients thought I was ‘fou’ drunk. They told him that the only sign of a building was the ruins of a stone fort belonging to a notorious smuggler of old. A nasty buccaneer, whose two-masted brig terrorized clipper ship owners; his vessel sent shot and ball into honest seafarers’ sails, followed with rapine. The buccaneer got his information on the sailing ships’ course from a renegade in the service of the crown; the sneaky blackguard loved the flow of gold coins running through his fingers and his lips told all. The buccaneer fought the King’s soldiers for many a year until a large force of redcoats stormed his redoubt. Both the pirate and the informant managed to escape the wrath of the King’s men in a longboat rowed by their loyal followers. "As the Majesty’s forces left the fort they reduced it with blasts of powder. A year later the buccaneer and the renegade were tracked down, and marched to the end of the noose to the beat of drums. "I looked into the faces of the attendant and of the ancients whose set faces confirmed their knowledge. Didn’t want to argue. So, I took out my billfold and handed a few Canadian notes to pay for the gas. Quickly I entered my car and started the engine, which coughed and wheezed into life. My wheels hiccupped and belched smoke as it stuttered along the tarmac. I thought, ‘what the hell did he put into my tank?’ "About a half-mile or so, the car belched, buckled, jumped and stalled. One large hiccup jarred me foward on the wheel, straining my straps. Then with a sudden burst of energy the coupe swung into life. Scared the living devil out of me. I braked hard and pulled to the side of road. As the car slid to a stop I heard a loud thud of something falling or hitting the right side of the floorboards. ‘What next!’ I angrily exlaimed. Then I searched to my right to and there it was.... "An old leathern hunter’s pouch had fallen from the seat. Where it came from... don’t know! Must have been covered by my raincoat that was draped on the back of the seat. The pouch had crashed to the floor with a burst scattering coinage all about. My senses were all confused as within my sight was a king’s ransom - Spanish gold doubloons and shining silver reals, gold pieces of eight, old English milled gold guineas, crowns, minted silver shillings. "And..."
Copyright © 2002 Norman A Rubin |