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Authors: Brad Taylor
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regretting making any comments about pirates. Grolier Recovery Services had been “asked” to stay in Jamaica until the local authorities could sort through the mess, and the Jamaicans were tossing around legal precedents from the 1700s, all involving some hanging of a pirate.
Drinking a beer across from me at a beat-up wooden picnic table, Brett said, “Looks like Knuckles gets his vacation after all.”
I watched him and Jennifer at the small bar—really no more than a plank of wood hammered into the side of a marina—and said, “Yeah, well, I ought to kick both of your asses for the privilege. Knuckles will be paying the tab for the honor; that’s for damn sure.”
“You think the Taskforce will pull some weight?”
“Not likely.”
The Taskforce had thrown us to the wolves. Kurt Hale, the commander, could not believe what we’d gotten involved in. I’d tried to toss Brett and Knuckles under the bus, since he’d sent them to me and it was their damn fault, but he was having none of it. He seemed to find it humorous that the Jamaicans were looking to accuse us of piracy. I’d begged for some official help, but all I’d gotten in return was, “You built the ship—you sail it.”
The only things going for us were the pirates Brett and Jennifer had captured. Luckily they weren’t killed like every other buccaneer on the boat. They were turning on each other and backing up our story, but we were still asked to remain. While the attack had occurred outside of Jamaican territorial waters, the container ship was from their harbor and was still within the economic zone. They were a little miffed that we hadn’t contacted them and incredulous that we had assaulted on our own.
Like I was going to trust Brett’s and Jennifer’s lives to a bunch of reggae sailors from the Jamaica Defence Force.
We were staying in the small town of Port Royal, just on the other side of the international airport and across the bay from the capitol of Kingston. The Jamaicans were paying our hotel bill—as a “courtesy”—which meant we weren’t going to be living it up at Hedonism or Sandals.
Brett watched Jennifer order and said, “You want to trade roommates? Knuckles is a little bit OCD. He has a cow if I don’t put the cap on the toothpaste, and he folds the towels for the maids.”
The Jamaicans had saved more money by making us double up. Which meant Brett got to put up with Knuckles, and I got to play Brer Rabbit in the briar patch.
“No way. I’ve had to live with him for years on deployments. Your turn now.”
Jennifer walked up holding some tall thing with a pineapple and an umbrella. She sat down across from me, with a view across the bay.
She said, “You know, at the end of the day, those pirates picked the right place to launch from. Port Royal used to be swashbuckler central. This whole city was a walking pirate zoo. Blackbeard, Calico Jack, Henry Morgan, they all came here. In fact, this place was so infested, the city enlisted the aid of the pirates to defend it against Spain.”
I said, “Then why are they so fired up about using some ancient law against us? Seems they would understand.”
She said, “Well, that was all before they started hanging pirates.”
“Great. Perfect.”
“You know Calico Jack had a couple of female pirates. Anne Bonny and Mary Read.”
“What’s that matter?”
“Well, they hung his ass, but the females were only locked up. Anne actually made it back to her home. Charleston, South Carolina.”
I looked at her sideways and Brett started laughing. She grinned. “Just sayin’.”
Knuckles walked up with two more drinks, both like Jennifer’s, with a pineapple and an umbrella. He handed me one and I said, “What the hell is this?”
“A rumrunner. Hey, listen, the bartender says that if there
were
any treasure from Port Royal, it would be over on Lime Cay. And guess what? There’s a shuttle boat that goes there right from this bar.”
I looked at him
Drinking a beer across from me at a beat-up wooden picnic table, Brett said, “Looks like Knuckles gets his vacation after all.”
I watched him and Jennifer at the small bar—really no more than a plank of wood hammered into the side of a marina—and said, “Yeah, well, I ought to kick both of your asses for the privilege. Knuckles will be paying the tab for the honor; that’s for damn sure.”
“You think the Taskforce will pull some weight?”
“Not likely.”
The Taskforce had thrown us to the wolves. Kurt Hale, the commander, could not believe what we’d gotten involved in. I’d tried to toss Brett and Knuckles under the bus, since he’d sent them to me and it was their damn fault, but he was having none of it. He seemed to find it humorous that the Jamaicans were looking to accuse us of piracy. I’d begged for some official help, but all I’d gotten in return was, “You built the ship—you sail it.”
The only things going for us were the pirates Brett and Jennifer had captured. Luckily they weren’t killed like every other buccaneer on the boat. They were turning on each other and backing up our story, but we were still asked to remain. While the attack had occurred outside of Jamaican territorial waters, the container ship was from their harbor and was still within the economic zone. They were a little miffed that we hadn’t contacted them and incredulous that we had assaulted on our own.
Like I was going to trust Brett’s and Jennifer’s lives to a bunch of reggae sailors from the Jamaica Defence Force.
We were staying in the small town of Port Royal, just on the other side of the international airport and across the bay from the capitol of Kingston. The Jamaicans were paying our hotel bill—as a “courtesy”—which meant we weren’t going to be living it up at Hedonism or Sandals.
Brett watched Jennifer order and said, “You want to trade roommates? Knuckles is a little bit OCD. He has a cow if I don’t put the cap on the toothpaste, and he folds the towels for the maids.”
The Jamaicans had saved more money by making us double up. Which meant Brett got to put up with Knuckles, and I got to play Brer Rabbit in the briar patch.
“No way. I’ve had to live with him for years on deployments. Your turn now.”
Jennifer walked up holding some tall thing with a pineapple and an umbrella. She sat down across from me, with a view across the bay.
She said, “You know, at the end of the day, those pirates picked the right place to launch from. Port Royal used to be swashbuckler central. This whole city was a walking pirate zoo. Blackbeard, Calico Jack, Henry Morgan, they all came here. In fact, this place was so infested, the city enlisted the aid of the pirates to defend it against Spain.”
I said, “Then why are they so fired up about using some ancient law against us? Seems they would understand.”
She said, “Well, that was all before they started hanging pirates.”
“Great. Perfect.”
“You know Calico Jack had a couple of female pirates. Anne Bonny and Mary Read.”
“What’s that matter?”
“Well, they hung his ass, but the females were only locked up. Anne actually made it back to her home. Charleston, South Carolina.”
I looked at her sideways and Brett started laughing. She grinned. “Just sayin’.”
Knuckles walked up with two more drinks, both like Jennifer’s, with a pineapple and an umbrella. He handed me one and I said, “What the hell is this?”
“A rumrunner. Hey, listen, the bartender says that if there
were
any treasure from Port Royal, it would be over on Lime Cay. And guess what? There’s a shuttle boat that goes there right from this bar.”
I looked at him
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