rather than trying to console a recent widow. Without asking questions he headed to the engine room where he expected to find the generator. He was rewarded by finding not only the generator but fifty gallons of spare fuel as well. He was nearly finished transferring the fuel when Cynthia came up behind him. Her face was brighter and it looked like she had scrubbed it to wash away a round of tears.
“You probably think I’m a bit of an idiot, don’t you? First running out of gas, then draining the batteries.”
Langdon stumbled around for a positive rejoinder. “You made it out here and you said you were comfortable docking. That’s the hardest part of running a boat. If you can dock this cruiser, then I can point out where the fuel gauges are. You already had enough gas on board to get back home. It just wasn’t in the tank. By the way, where did you come out?”
“I came out the north side of Topsail Island. New River Inlet. I’ll go back the same way.”
“Not for a few hours you won’t. What time did you come out?” asked Langdon.
“About eleven. The boat conked out an hour before you arrived.”
“Well you shouldn’t even try heading back before eight or nine o’clock tonight. That’s the next high tide. New River is tricky. It’s a narrow inlet. I haven’t been through it for a couple of years but that’s where I was headed. As I recall, the channel snakes around a pretty nasty sandbar.”
“You remember correctly. I was frightened by something. I just ran down to the boat and turned the key. I never even checked the tide. I just raced out the inlet. It must have been full tide because that was the only time my husband would dare to go out.”
“The good news is that gives plenty of time to charge the batteries. All I have to do is start the generator. Everything else is good to go.”
Moments later, Langdon had the generator running and the gauges indicated that the batteries were charging. He met Cynthia on the stern deck to report the good news and discovered that his glass was again full. There was an odd assortment of snacks laid out on a table.
“Lunch is somewhat limited. There were a few tin goods and a fresh bag of peanuts in the galley so the lunch menu is limited to sardines and nuts. The bar however, is fully stocked and with the generator running we should have ice again soon.”
Part of Langdon was telling him to get back on his boat ASAP but the other part was telling him that he had a six hour layover before escorting Cynthia back to a gas dock. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. He also knew it was impossible for him to ignore both his upbringing and his conscience, so he might as well accept the fact that he was committed to helping this damsel in distress. He just wished she was thirty years younger.
“What frightened you?” Langdon asked as he reached for a handful of nuts.
“Oh that’s a very long story,” said Cynthia. “It goes all the way back to Blackbeard, himself.”
“Really!” That caught Langdon by surprise but he was immediately intrigued. “Okay, now that you’ve got my attention, I guess I’m not going to leave you here all alone for the next six hours. I’ll sit back and you can explain what Blackbeard has to do with you being out here today.”
“Oh I couldn’t ask you to babysit an old woman until the next tide,” said Cynthia.
“You didn’t ask. Go ahead, tell your story.”
Chapter 2
Blackbeard
On the shaded stern deck, drinks in hand, Cynthia began her tale.
“In the late 1600’s half the population of Bristol England was dirt poor, starving and/or diseased. People lived in squalor, seldom washing, drinking wine or ale, which seemed to be the only known way to purify the fetid water. Taking out the garbage meant merely throwing it out a window and sewage from the chamber pots was dumped into open ditches. Dogs and rats took care of garbage collection and the rain washed down the sewers, dumping everything into the sea. The final stage of the cleanup was completed by the tide which cleansed the harbor, twice a day.
“A young boy, whose name may have been any one of a half dozen choices, including, Edward Teach, Thatch or Tache, lived in the streets, stealing food and sleeping in whatever cubbyhole he could crawl into when it rained. Lord knows how he survived. Surprisingly, he knew how to read and write which indicates that he probably came from a middle class home. Perhaps he ran away or perhaps he was orphaned. No one knows, but around 1712 or 1713, he managed to get a job on a ship that was setting sail for Jamaica. It is unlikely that he was even paid anything beyond his food ration. Once in Jamaica, his luck improved and he was able to get a job as crewman on board a privateer, duly licensed by Queen Anne of England. This took place during the War of Succession in Spain and the ship’s mission would have been to plunder Spanish ships in the Caribbean. Somewhere in those glorious blue waters, a world away from the filth of Bristol, he met a privateer named Benjamin Hornigold, who took a liking to the young lad and taught him the art of piracy.
“Edward Teach, the most common name attributed to him, grew tall and lean, possessing well above average strength. Historical accounts repeatedly describe his huge hands. He stood a good six inches taller than most men, was a mean, brutal, dirty fighter and a good shot. His reputation began to grow almost immediately. He was probably still in his late teens when he let his hair and beard grow until it covered his entire face, stole a ship and soon became known as Blackbeard.
“Blackbeard’s ship would approach his quarry either under the same flag as his opponent or under the flag of a friendly nation. Such approaches were commonplace. A friendly encounter was often the only way a ship, long at sea, could receive news and if that ship was travelling in the opposite direction, mail was often exchanged. When Blackbeard was almost on top of his quarry, he would run up his own flag of piracy. He differentiated himself from others by not flying the traditional Skull and Crossbones but instead flew a custom flag depicting a skeleton with devil-like horns and cloven feet. Both arms of the skeleton were raised with one bony hand holding an hour glass while the other hand held a spear, pointed downward. Beneath the tip of the spear, lay a red heart and three distinct drops of blood. The hourglass was symbolic. Surrender now. Time is running out. The rest of the flag depicted the penalty for non-compliance.
“The majority of his victims were merchants. Resisting Blackbeard meant a brutal fight without mercy.
“If his quarry tried to run, his first line of attack would be his cannons. As the two ships closed together he would switch from cannon balls to grapeshot, nails and chain that would shred everything it hit. The sails, the rigging and the throat of any poor soul who didn’t duck in time. Closer still, he would switch to rifles and pistols before boarding. His initial target was the helmsman. With the helmsman dead, the ship would founder. Then his pirates would draw the two ships close together using grappling hooks and swarm the victim’s ship. The firearms were all single shot weapons that took a long time to re-load. After the initial volley, battles would turn to hand-to-hand combat with boarding pikes, axes, daggers and cutlasses.
“A small crew aboard a merchant ship was no match for Blackbeard’s larger crew of more experienced fighters. The battles that ensued never lasted long.
“Before long, Blackbeard’s reputation preceded him and his victims were frequently willing to surrender rather than challenge him. You can’t blame the poor, frightened souls.
“Surrendering was a prudent alternative to a fierce battle that Blackbeard would surely win. Furthermore, Blackbeard exhibited reasonable decency if his victims co-operated. In most cases he had no use for their ship so he removed anything of value and allowed the ship to sail away, crew and passengers poorer but unharmed.
“Blackbeard fully understood the psychological advantage of instilling fear in his victims but it was equally important that he was