The Black River Pirates by Don Clark

Author:Don Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781412216777
Publisher: Trafford Publishing
Published: 2006-05-19T00:00:00+00:00

18

One Bird to Another

The black pirate gunboat and its target, the battered and patched-up Sea Witch, tossed up and down in the same sea. Only a tiny green island separated good from evil.

One can’t really say ‘funny’ at a time like this but it was funny in a way, a tough pirate gang with a speedy, well-armed gunship, just minutes away from what should be an easy victim, yet there wasn’t a thing they could do about it. The Black River killers had pushed too far, too fast. Their hungry gas tanks were bone dry. Not a drop left.

The good ship Sea Witch hugged the rugged shoreline just around the corner. She had sails and she had the wind needed to push her, but the question was which way, and when? Captain Barnacle scratched his head in amazement. The helicopter should have been shooting by now or, at least, heading their way at full speed.

“Blistering barnacles!” he thundered, “Why don’t they do something? On the other hand, why don’t we?”

Back on the other side of the tiny island, the red-faced pirate captain gave instructions to his pilot. The one-eyed man wiped his goggles with a greasy rag and squeezed into his waiting helicopter. The engine snorted, burped and finally roared into life to lift the whirling machine above the cloud of blue smoke it made.

“What’s going on now?” Captain Barnacle bellowed. He answered his own question. “If I don’t miss my guess, those rascals have run out of gas, or diesel, or whatever they burn in that tub. If they can’t move, that means we’d better get going, fast.”

He did a quick study of the islands.

“There, over there,” he pointed. “Let’s get over to that bigger island where we’ve got a better chance to get this old schooner under cover.”

The Sea Witch turned to pick up the wind and fled for the larger island. As they circled it clockwise, everyone was ordered to line-up on the starboard side to look for any kind of a little bay or inlet where they could hide. In many places the mangrove trees grew right down to the water. In others, steep cliffs rose hundreds of feet into the air, like castle walls you can’t climb.

It had been quiet for nearly twenty minutes when Peter let out a yell. Everyone turned.

“Hey! There’s something. Right there.” He pointed to a small, almost invisible opening in the dense trees that crowded the shoreline. “It’s kind of a river or inlet or something..”

He didn’t finish because the Sea Witch sailed right on by. It wasn’t like having a motor that you can stop or start, or go slow or fast. And, a sailboat doesn’t have brakes.

“I’ll bring her around,” the captain shouted.

He gave the big wheel a vigorous turn. The weary old schooner slowly wheeled into the wind and headed back toward the opening in the tree line. It was slow going because when you sail into the wind you’ve got to tack. That is, go left for a while then right, then back and forth, so the sails will pick up the wind.

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