The night was dark and cloudy with hardly no stars out. The only sound was the creak of the oars against the locks and the whistle of water beneath the old waterlogged planks of the longboat. As the clouds moved slightly a flicker of moonlight reflected off the man's face pulling the oars. The scar was wretched running down his face; the result of some dissagreement no less. "ARR, matie, Capt',n Jordan's gonna be right proud of us," he growled, "the treasure's burried and we left no witnesses, cept'n us o'course."
"Yer cor-rect, there first mate Flint," the blond girl pirate, Blonde Dread, said perched in the bow holding the poodle, Jersey, "trouble is now we have to figure a way to off ole Capt'n Jordan if we are gonna be the soul heirs of his treasure."
"Giv'n time my deary, giv'n time!" 1st Mate Black Jack Flint growled.
Now the moon had coursed a lit trail across the water leading to Pieces Of Eight, an old black English Barque now taken over by the pirates. The boat creaks along as the the moon goes again behind the clouds extinguishing any evidence leaving a smooth glass of black sea.
The bright sun shinning through the hatch awoke Tom. He lay and enjoyed the gentle movement of Miracle as sea water sloshed against her sides. He stretched and climbed onto the foredeck to enjoy his morning cup of coffee, "And to think they used to put gunpowder in this," he thought to himself. "What a morning," thought Tom as he checked the anchor rode, took a reading on the sextant, and charted his position in the log book. Next he found his Bible and began to read where he had left off the morning before, "And when the South wind blew softly, supposing that they had obtained their purpose, loosing thence, they sailed close by Creete. But not long after, there arose against it a tempetuous winde, called Euroclydon. And when the ship was caught, and could beare vp into the winde, we let her driue. And running vnder a certaine yland, which is called Clauda, wee had much worke to by the boate: Which when they had taken vp, they vsed helps, vnder-girding the ship; and fearing lest they should fall into the quicke-sands, strake saile, and so were driuen. And being exceedingly tossed with a tempest the next day, they lightened the ship: And the third day we cast out with our owne handes the tackling of the shippe. And when neither Sunne nor starres in many dayes appeared, and no small tempest lay on vs; all hope that wee should be saued, was then taken away," The Actes - Chap. xxvij. 13-20 (KJV - 1611 ed.). Tom thought, "Wow, Paul would need a lot of God's power to sail out of this one. Reckon, I'll find out tomorrow." Tom got in the small tender and headed to the beach.
Having beached the tender he proceeded to walk to the driftwood shack that served as the island's only restaurant, for a bite to eat.The sand felt good between his toes as he walked allowing the salty water to splash against his legs. He entered the restaurant and found his usual table. "What'll it be there, Hon," the waitress, Celeste, said. Celeste was a young blond woman about Tom's age (in her early 30's). She was tall and skinny wearing her hair in a pony tail.
"I think I will have the shrimp and grits with three eggs over easy."
"Coming right up. Let's see you always take your coffee black is that right?"
"You remembered." Tom said. As he awaited his food Tom began to read the newspaper. He skimmed the news and made his way to his favorite part the comics. By the time he had finished the last comic strip his food arrived. "Here you go, sweety, enjoy," Celeste said with a smile. "How long you plan to stay, Hon, and don't you ever get lonesome aboard that boat?" she said.
"Oh, not really, Miracle and I go back quite some time."
"Well, I get off at 3:00 after the lunchtime rush, so why don't you stop by sometime. I'd love to hear about your first love."
"Yep, she's my gal. I'll come by sometime, thanks," Tom said. After eating Tom started back to his boat. The small rivulets of waves gently stirring around his ankles. There! What was that. . . in the sand at the waters edge? Something was picking up the morning sun's rays and reflecting light just under the tide line. Tom ran to the spot and began to dig in the sand. Soon he held an object, "Some type of metal," he thought, up to let the sun reveal what it was. Yes, there was something cut into the corroded piece of metal. Tom could only make out a few of the letters: a large "P", a small "e", a large "O" , he thought, and a large "E". At that very instant there was a loud crack of thunder and a lightning bolt flew from the black clouds fastly approaching and hit a palm tree destroying it into a fiery mess right before Tom's eyes. Tom clutched the piece of metal which was growing hot in his hands and ran for the tender.

Blonde Dread and Flint continued to row across the glassy water finally reaching Pieces Of Eight only to find the barque deserted. They searched from stern to bow, starboard to larboard without even a head nor hair. Then there came a knocking . . . "knock, knock, knock". "What be that, matey," demanded Flint. Blondie drew her cutlass and Flint his pistol. "Make thyself know," growled Flint.
"It be just me," came a voice from behind them.
Swish went Blonde Dread's cutlass as she spun around pinning the pirate to the mizzenmast with cold steel against his neck. "Oh, it be only you, Hands. Blondie, release the swine. "Sooo, Hands, why be ye sneaking up on us, that be a good way to find Davey Jone's Locker, ye know," said Flint.
"But Capt'n Jack Flint we'se been shanghaied," said Hands, there came ye big bolt of lightning and them other brothers done disappeard. Not a trace to be found. Yo Ho, and the Devil done for the rest."
"But yer mistaken, Hands, I'm not ye capt'n."
"Ye arrrh now, capt'n, no one else is left. You be the next in command."
"Well now," said Flint, "I reckon ye be cor-rect. All right snap to it, mateys, man them halyards, let's get her under sail."
The next moment Tom found himself on the ground from an explosion that destroyed the driftwood restaurant. Tom regained his senses and raced back to the sight of the explosion to see if anyone was still alive. As he drew close the heat from the fire singed his arms as he put them up to protect his face. The sky was lit up for miles and the heat was atrocious. Tom thought to himself, "Could anyone have survived such a blast?" Then just as he was about to turn from the searing heat he spotted Celeste lying on the sand close to the water's edge. He ran to her and splashed cold water on her face until she clutched his arm and looked into his eyes. "Are you okay?" Tom asked.
"Uh, I think so," she said, "a lightening bolt must have hit the gas pumps on the other side of the restaurant."
"Well, let's get you to the boat and get you cleaned up before the storm hits." Tom said as the wind began to build from the northeast. "Look's like we're in for a nor’easterner."
Back on Miracle Tom washed Celeste's face and tended to her cuts and bruises. "You were very fortunate there lass," he said as he bandaged the cut on the back of her hand, "you could have been blown into yesterday."
"I really don't understand, I was going to the door to check on you because I saw the lightening hit the tree and was afraid for you. Then everything just went black for me, until of course, you awoke me."
"Well, I'm glad you are okay, but I could not get close enough to help the others," Tom said as he looked out the porthole and saw red and blue lights surrounding the place where the dark smoke poured up into the red morning sky. "I'm afraid we are in for one bad storm. I'm going to pull up the anchor and head out to sea where we won't run into anything when the seas become fierce."
Tom weighed the anchor, securing it to the foredeck and went back into the cabin as the wind and rain began to roar like a freight train. In the cabin Tom found Celeste looking at the piece of metal with the inscription carved into it. "Well, what do you make of that; I found it in the sand just before the palm tree was disintegrated?"
"I'm not sure but it looks like the nameplate off an old ship that washed in." added Celeste.
"I figured as much, but could not make out the name with all the corrosion."
"Well, this might sound crazy," said Celeste, but I think it is from the ol’ pyrate ship, Pieces Of Eight. My great, great, great grandfather was the captain of that ship."
"You're kidding me, right Celeste?"
"No, seriously, back in 1725 my great, great, great grandfather Black Jack Flint was 1st mate to a Captain Jordan who was a pyrate. Anyway he and his girl Blondie Dread had gone to bury Jordan's precious treasure said to be worth millions and millions of Spanish gold. Jordan had sent them giving them a map and figuring on killing them when they returned to the Pieces Of Eight. However, strange as it may seem when 1st mate Flint and Dread returned they only found Hands the boatswain left behind claiming a storm came up and washed the whole crew overboard. Or that's the story that was passed down through the generations. But my theory is that, well, you know the legend behind the lightening that happens around here."
"Yeah, I think I have heard that. It's when the wicked lightening comes and takes back up with it those with the black hearts and sends them straight to Davie Jones Locker or Hell as we understand it."
"That's the legend," reiterated Celeste, "and somehow, Hands having been on Blackbeard's Queen Anne's Revenge had knowledge of the sea and survived the storm."
"Or he didn't have a black heart," added Tom.
"Yeah, that could have been after all he was pardoned from pyrating. He had not been on Teach's ship when the final battle took place."
"That's right I remember now, the devil, Blackbeard had shot him in the knee."
"True," added Celeste, they were below ship and ol' Teach commanded all to leave the quarters and there set Israel Hands, drunk and passed out from too much rhum, when he fired the shot under the table, so ol' Izral 'ands was, shall we say on sick leave when the final battle took place with Lieutenant Maynard where ol' Teach lost his life with five pistol shots, twenty very bad cuts, and a missing head. Anyway, the now Capt'n Flint was not that great of a sailor or the crew was too small for so large a ship, and he ran her into rocks during a storm and the entire crew lost their lives. All except the dog, Dread had a small poodle named, Jersey that she babied because it was said she never could have any children. Legend has it that before the ship crashed Dread tied the map for the treasure to Jersey and threw the small dog overboard, but no one ever found the dog."
"So the treasure was never found then," said Tom.
"So the story goes, but the dog was supposed to be one of a kind; big for a toy poodle and spotted like a Holstein cow, said to have some kind of magical power. Craziest thing ever to be seen says the legend."
"Well, you've had enough of an adventure for one day, Celeste, you better try and get some sleep. I'll go top deck and see how we faired the rain seems to have let up."
Top deck Tom realized the storm had indeed ceased for the time being and the stars were beginning to come out. He pulled out his spy glass and gazed back to Ocracoke in the moonlight to see how far they had drifted during the storm. "Not too bad he thought only about a days travel to get back to land, what with tacking into the wind and all considered.
Bam!!! A wicked bolt of lightening hit the mast sending a blue flame down the 25 foot pole and into the water by way of jumper cables clamped to the mast and thrown overboard. Tom was knocked unconscious, Celeste was asleep below decks and Miracle drifted uncontrolled out to sea.

Tom awoke in a cove surrounded by palm trees and sand. He rubbed his eyes and stretched out his lanky body. The moonlight was reflecting off the glassy calm water. The mast light was giving the foredeck a ghostly, blue glow. Tom figured he better check on Celeste and see if she was okay. He climbed through the cabin doorway and switched on the lights but there was no Celeste. “Now where was that crazy blonde,” thought Tom, “surely she’s not out wandering around on this island in the dark. What was she thinking?” He went on deck and looked around trying to think like she would have. “It’s no use, no one in their right mind would wander around in this jungle in the middle of the night.” Miracle had grounded herself in the soft sand so Tom cranked the motor and moved her back out setting the anchor then took the tender into the island. Once there he turned on his torch and began to forge into the island’s wilderness. The wilderness was thick and Tom was glad he had remembered his machete to chop through the dense undergrowth. The sharp blade whizzed through the tender branches and brambles severing them off in piles by the new trail he was making. He swung left and right and then a downward swing to lop off a larger branch. The going was very slow but Tom felt he was making progress.
After about 100 yards into the virgin island forest, Tom sat down on a bolder to rest and heard a yelp. “What in thunder is that,” he almost said aloud, “who or what is following me.” Then there was another yelp than a distinguished bark. Tom looked back down the trail he had just blazed and there he was a small dog, but it wasn’t just any dog; this dog seemed vaguely familiar with its white fur splotched with black spots, some big and some smaller. Yet the marks were there, a young rather large for its breed poodle came wandering down the path. “What are you doing here, boy, are you lost?” Tom said to the furry animal. The dog sat and cocked his head to one side and yelped, “Arf, arf, ark.” What did this dog want, thought Tom? Then the poodle bounded off to the left of the trail then ran back and jumped going around in circles and then running back down the trail, bounding off to the left again. “Does this dog want me to follow it or what?” declared Tom. “Well here goes nothing,” and Tom took off after the small dog only to wonder what lay ahead.

The dog led the way through the brambles and right up to the mouth of a cave in the side of a hill. The brush was grown up around the opening and was only visible if one looked hard. Inside the cave led back into darkness. Yet there was light enough to see the entrance. Tom turned on his torch and proceeded on after the dog. As they continued the cave became humid and narrowed. He was sloshing through what appeared to be mud then sand that felt as if it would swallow his feet. Before long the sand turned into a flowing stream. The dog was barely able to walk but faithfully trudged along leading the way. Now the cave veered off to the left and opened into a room. On the floor laid a skeleton, bones white with age and protruding out of his stick like ribs was a saber. It was sleek and curved but obvious to its intentions. The dog lay down beside the skeleton and whimpered. On the other side was another skeleton staked out with chains connecting arms and legs to iron spikes driven into the floor of the cave. It appeared the one skeleton had been killed instantly or made to watch as his mate was tortured to death and then killed with the saber. The dog walked to the staked out skeleton and licked the face affectionately then moved to the other and pawed at the jaw with teeth still in a death grimace. “What are you trying to tell me, boy,” Tom replied to the animal. The poodle barked and continued to paw at the jaw. Then in the torch light Tom noticed a glimmer between the teeth. It appeared as only a glimmer but still noticeable. Tom withdrew the sword and pried the jaws open to find a very old piece of metal appearing to be a coin. He took the coin and put it in his pocket. Not far from the body lay the sheath for the sword, old and tattered but still usable. He retrieved the sheath and slid the saber home carrying it in his right hand as he saw the dog retreating out to the front of the cave. Now back in the open he switched off the torch checked his weapons, the machete strapped to his back, his Swiss army knife in his pocket, and the saber now strapped to his left side. He felt as if he were a warrior going to retrieve his damsel in distress. The dog was still pushing ahead at a fast rate and Tom has to hurry to keep up. Ahead the path opened up and Tom could hear the strings of an acoustic guitar playing. The dog had disappeared through a hedge and was at the feet of a man sitting in a hammock playing a song, “Sailing Away, Sailing away. Hope for tomorrow, Faith for today.” The dog seemed to be mesmerized as he sat by the man’s feet. Tom was peering through the hedge when the man said, “Well, son, ye might well just c’mon through them hedges and join me, I been watching ye for awhile and smelling ye even longer.” “I’m looking for a girl, who was on my boat and has now disappeared, have you seen her?” Tom asked. “Cain’t rightly say I have, but why don’t ye just c’mon over and have a spot of tea with tis ole man.” He laid his blue dreadnaught down against the palm tree and cocked his Greek fisherman’s hat up and studied Tom. Tom cautiously walked into the man’s domain as he led the way through the hand hued door of the driftwood shack.




(To Be Continued -- what do you think so far?)