Black Mask & Pale Rider: How I Wish I Was In Sherbrooke Now – Pt. 3

Feel her bow rise free of Mother Sea
In a sunburst cloud of spray
That stings the cheek while the rigging will speak
Of sea-miles gone away
She is always best under full press
Hard over as she’ll lay
And who will know the Bluenose in the sun?

They met Harkness early the next morning.  He never spoke a word as he lead them to his ship, an old fishing trawler, rigged with guns for protection.  Both Shani and Pania knew that in the Isles you had to protect yourself, and this trawler was rigged out to look more like a small naval fighting ship.  Armoured heavily and heavily armed.

The crew was an equally surly bunch, from the bosun to the cook himself.  They had been preparing to sail for a few days, so luck was on Shani and Pania’s side that they found this ship.  As they approached, Pania saw the name of their sea faring mount.  The Fiddler’s Green.  Fitting, to be certain.  The Green held it’s own revere with the elves as a place to look forward to after centuries of adventure and discovery.  The Green itself had also been something old sailors often talked about, a place where a sailor fifty years of service will be granted entrance and offered his wealth in rum and tobacco.

The journey was uneventful until they began to draw closer to the coastline of Cap, connecting to the Oakes.  They could see the old fort in plain view, one held by the French and saw many a long battle.  It’s walls still stood proud, even if the ones who built it no longer served in their shadows.  At least, not those living.  Some said that the fort still contained the ghosts of those who fought many of the battles there.  Pania herself had seen a ghost or two lurking about in the shadows.

The men were feeling uneasy and the elves could feel the tension rising.  Pania moved into the main cabin to look over the charts and see what might tip her off as to where the Revenge might have sunk.  Harkness was at the helm, he didn’t look up when he spoke.

“There be sharks here,” was all he said.  Sure enough, when Pania looked out the windows of the cabin, she could see the tell tale mark of the dorsal fin of man eaters, following the ship in case it gave them a free meal.  “But these aren’t the usual kind o’ sharks.  No, many a sailor has spoken o’ these cursed men who served ‘board vessels, taken by the sea.  These men weren’t just left ta die by some villainous brigand.  They were abandoned by their own captain.

“That’s what I’m ‘ere fer,” Pania whispered.  She looked directly to Harkness, raising her voice just a bit.  “Tales speak o’ the inhuman things Turpin did, the lives he claimed while captainin’ the Revenge.  But it were in death the worst o’ what he did.  Word has it only one man escaped the ship as it sunk, an’ he lived ta tell the tale as he saw Turpin lashin’ his own men down ta the riggin’ o’ the Revenge as he himself launched a life boat an’ escaped.  They were caught by surprise by the French cannons an’ riddled but good.  The Revenge sunk, but…”

“A captain must always go down with ‘is ship,” Harkness finished with a nod.  He understood all too well what Pania and Shani were trying to do.  The cursed men who swam these waters, it wasn’t their fault.  Cutthroats and brigands they may be, but none deserved the fate they received.  Harkness picked up the two way comm, allowing his orders be heard across the ship.  “Leave the sharks.  It’s Turpin we want.”

Pania turned as the door open and Shani rushed in.  “Fog’s beginnin’ ta settle out there.  Be lucky ifn we kin see our hands in front o’ our faces.”

“The sharks’ll know,” Harkness said in his low, gravely tone.  “They’ll guide us, now that we know we’re not here fer them.”

Shani looked to Pania, the elven songstress nodding.  Harkness knew what he was doing.

Then, off in the distance, the fog seemed to break.  They could see the rocky shoreline, and as plain as day stood a shimmering apparition.  “There!”  Pania said as she pointed toward the figure.  “Dick Turpin ‘imself!”

“This here ends t’day,” Shani gritted as she tested her pistols.  “Let’s git ta shore an’ square this once an’ fer all.”

lyrics from Bluenose, written and performed by Stan Rogers