AN// Not good! I promised myself to update and I got swamped with work so... *kneels down and begs forgiveness* Oh yea.. can someone tell me what "FAFFHOO" stands for please? Thanks.
Chapter 09::
Patricia eyes landed on a date, beginning an entry. It was in the middle of journal but it caught her eye when it said '... cargo of gold...' She looked up for a second and saw Jack and Will looking at her to begin reading...
"'12 October 1651,
My crew has remained loyal since our departure from England. It has been two months and our passage is nearly ending across the wide Atlantic. My crew's lack of want for the gold... that concept is staggering enough. Beneath our very feet.... beneath the wooden planks, is a cargo of gold so rich that it strains the mind to think of its value. A mutiny would only hold true to the nature of humanity but my crew is a rare find.
14 October 1651,
It seems that I may have spoken too soon. A sour trail appears through the lines of my men and it all seems to lead back to the one I never would have thought capable of thinking such despicable thoughts... Robert, my own son... my namesake.
It hurts to believe that he would be capable of this. To believe that he would go against so close to the end of our journey hurts me. Of course, what I hear is only a rumor. I shall give him the benefit of the doubt. I cannot raise unsupported decisions especially against Robert.
'"Father, may I speak to you?" a voice called from the door. The older Robert closed his journal suddenly and slipped it underneath the papers and maps strewn on his table.
"Come in, Robert," the Captain answered. A blond man strode into the room and as he shut the door, Abegnale saw the rest of the crew peering into the room and his heart skipped a beat when he thought he saw the glint of a sword in the moonlight. "How may I hel--?" But he was interrupted by a sword drawn and placed on his neck. Robert looked at his father's eyes with an ultimatum.
"You know what I'm about to ask, Father." The metal took a small nick of the skin just to emphasize his seriousness. "This gold is not meant to be kept in British hands."
"You couldn't possibly wish to sail away with the gold, Robert?"
"Why must we do this, Father?" Robert exclaimed indignantly.
"Do what?"
"We are the ones that toil and suffer in the sun for months at a time! We are torn from our families and yet we do not even have a fraction of the fortunes those ignorant lazy mules gain! We DESERVE this gold!" Robert shouted.
"It's our work!" Robert pushed the sword again and Abegnale's heart skipped a beat. His older heart could not take this pressure and was beating dangerously wild. "Fine!! What do you wish of me?"
"Father, I do not want to harm you," Robert put down his sword. "You're blood still runs through my veins... but those men out there..." He motioned towards the door. "If you deny us our wishes, your blood will run through the planks and stain the waters..."
"You give me very little choice, my son," Abegnale murmured, putting his head in his hands.
"That's exactly how I wanted it."
"What do you want?!"
"We take the gold..."
"That has been long established."
"To the colonies in the Indies..."
"What?! We'll be caught if we go there, if you plan to do as you propose! It's British colonies!"
"We shall be going to the native islands, uninhabited by our comrades..."
"I will die if I do not comply, won't I?"
"Yes you will and I'll have no power to stop them..." Robert's otherwise handsome face twisted into a mad grin. "And I wouldn't complain with one less man to share the spoils." Abegnale stopped breathing altogether. He didn't want to. His values, ethics... his loyalty to Britain... He was being told to strip it all away or strip away his life. Weren't they the same thing? He looked up at the son he couldn't recognize and made a coward's decision.
"If I'm given an oath that I will not be harmed by any man on this ship, I will agree to your mutiny."
"This is hardly a mutiny... More of a change of management." Robert looked at his father with a cold stare. "Will you step down from your appointment as Captain of the Maiden?"
"I shall," Abegnale sighed, reluctantly. He took out his golden badge that represented his rank and handed it over with shaking hands to his son.
"Then it's done!" '
19 October 1651
I am no longer the Captain of the Maiden. I have put away my job and handed it over to Robert. Out course now head due west. We head for the Indies and British Colonies there. Haiti is our destination. Needless to say, I believe that what we are doing is wrong. I don't want to do this! I'm happy with the life I was living before. I sailed not for the fortunes but for the sea. Nothing else. I thought that maybe the love of the ocean would have been passed on to my son but clearly I was wrong. I shall have to go along with this. The crew has seemed serious. We are due for the Caribbean in a week or so. I shall continue my writing then.
30 October 1651
Our luck has seemed to come against us. We have begun this voyage with twenty six men and we have stayed that number till the night before. I now write in this journal in fear that I'm the next one to die. It was all going so well! But our luck has changed since yesterday...
' "Land Ho!" a sailor shouted. After a week's trip along the coast of the America's the crew of the Maiden Blue could see the destination of Haiti. It had been so long since they had seen land. Three staggering months of nothing but blue water and crystal skies was enough for most of the men. Some still contained their sanity but, for the most part, the crew was going insane.
"What do you see?" Robert shouted from his position on the deck to the crow's nest.
"I believe it to be Haiti off the port side! There are natives on shore and they seem to have seen us! They're just waiting there!"
Abegnale watched as his son sent a half dozen scouts on to shore. They could see nor hear anything from their distance... but it SEEMED peaceful. The natives seemed to have some grasp of the English language for they were communicating well. Then, the men were led into the forest. Abegnale had a suspicious feeling that all wasn't right as he watched the scene unfold upon him but he now knew better than to try to correct his egotistical son's decisions. The welts on his back had yet to heal...
Two men stayed behind on the Maiden as the rest of the crew, twenty two in all, piled into six other boats and headed for shore... and only five managed to return to the ship that day. None were unscathed. The rest were killed.
"...I was left with two others on the island. I can only guess that they thought us dead as well. I myself have a wound but 'tis nothing but a scratch. As it turned out the natives were none too friendly. We were led to where our scouts were led into and found ourselves looking into the most horrific sight.
ALL six of the men sent there before us were killed... And not just by simple murder of a stab in the heart but a complete disembowelment... A scene so macabre that even our strongest men couldn't hold in our horror and our meals. Before anymore reaction could have been made, the natives were sent upon us with knives just used on our comrades. With the seven on board the Maiden that escaped, there are two left, myself included who did not reach a boat. Even as I write by the light of the full moon, the natives search for me... I almost believe that my blood leaves a stench to follow so I must keep moving but my olden heart betrays my will to live.. I can barely go on.
12 November 1651
First I shall tell you a bit of good news. I write this entry aboard the Maiden. I was saved in the night before and taken back on board to be kept safe.
Now on toward ill news: The crew refuses to leave. They are blinded by hatred and revenge and they refuse to leave this horrible place. And something else is terribly wrong...
All those who were wounded in our battles haven't healed. Even my own cut has not even remotely clotted. 'Tis strange... My old friend, Cornelius, has already died from spilling all his blood.... He died a man shriveled up like a dried grape. His skin was a pasty white and all his strength had left him. This occurrence bothers me... Especially when I notice how my flesh is rotting at the edges of my wound... This is far from normal... I am no physician but this is FAR from normal. My strength is leaving me as well... What on Earth is going on?"
Patricia bit her lip... She didn't know what to make of this strange tale and she was wondering how it went on. She turned the page and saw that there was one last entry, four lines deep and in another's handwriting.
"15 November 1651,
My name is Nicolai Andrige. As I do not feel right this journal for my own use I shall end it with these thoughts.
Captain Robert Abegnale of the Maiden Blue
9 January 1602 – 14 November 1651"
"He died..." Patricia murmured, setting down the journal. "But that's not right... What did he mean the wounds never healed?"
Will could just look at her confused eyes and shake his head. Then he looked down and saw how her hands were shaking uncontrollably and then up to see that her face had gone ghostly white.
"What's wrong?" he asked. He stepped up and took her into his arms. He could still feel her shivering.
"I shouldn't have read it... I shouldn't have read the journal. It wasn't mine to take... Throw it back, Will. Another man's blood stains that gold," she whispered feverishly.
"What?! Hell no!" Jack yelled. "My gold now if you don't want it!"
"How could you possibly want a dead man's gold?!" she snapped at him.
"That's what treasure always is, love. Otherwise, if he were alive, I wouldn't have been able to take it!"
"That's one, if not the most!, morbid thing I've ever heard," she spat out at him.
"Stop it, both of you," Will interrupted. Patricia stuck out her tongue at Jack and hid her face in Will's tunic just as Jack stuck her tongue out at her. "Are we at Tortuga yet?"
"In an hour or so..." Jack answered, peeved and sitting on the treasure to keep their hands off of it.
"We'll decide what to do with it then," Will answered.
"Fine," Patricia whispered.
"FINE!" Jack said indignantly and stomped out still covered with his various golden accessories looking like a corss between a king and a homeless drunkard.
AN// I'm grounded and on the comp without permission so must keep this short. Sorry took so long to update. Working on next chapter as we speak. Shall continue the rest of my stories as well. Sorry took so long again and I'll update as soon as I can...