Spirits of the Pirate House (32 page)

“We’ll know soon enough when we get inside,”
said T.J. “But the question remains: where?”

It was at this moment that something odd
occurred. Bortnicker started snapping his head around, back and
forth, like he was being bothered by a mosquito. He then looked at
Chappy, who stonefacedly nodded. “Follow me,” said the boy. He led
them onto the rear gallery where a corner window was open a
crack.

Ronnie managed a “How did you—” before
Bortnicker shushed her.

T.J., who was equally perplexed, shrugged his
shoulders, said, “Quietly now,” and gently lifted the sash. One by
one they climbed over the waist-high sill into the pantry. When no
alarm sounded they breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay,” said T.J. “Bortnicker, you and I will
carry the flashlights. LouAnne, why don’t you man the EVP recorder.
And Ronnie, you were the only one who managed to draw him out last
time, so do your thing.”

“From here? The pantry?”

“No,” said Bortnicker with that odd tone in
his voice again. “Follow me.” He led them down the hallway to
William Tarver’s massive library. When they were all inside he
said, “Chappy, please close the door.” With an acknowledging nod,
the driver complied.

Almost immediately, the temperature in the
room began to drop, and the tobacco smell became apparent. The
Americans turned to their friend. “William Tarver!” cried Ronnie.
“Are you here? If so, show yourself and stop the drama!”

From a corner of the room a low, rumbling
chuckle sounded. Bortnicker and T.J. swung their flashlights toward
the sound, but there was nobody there. It got colder. LouAnne
started to shiver involuntarily.

“We’re waiting, Sir William!” called Ronnie,
“and we’ll wait all night if we have to, if you insist on playing
games!”

The boys’ flashlights winked out
simultaneously.

“Uh-oh,” said T.J.

“I do not appreciate being addressed this way
in my house,” came the voice from another corner. This time as they
turned toward it the source was discernible. In the pale moonlight
that streamed through a backing window, the figure of Sir William
Tarver, sitting at his opulent desk, was eerily clear.

“Well, it’s about time,” said Ronnie,
stepping forward bravely.

“My, my, aren’t you the spirited one,” said
Tarver in a sarcastic tone. “And I see you’ve brought along another
one. What’s your name,
boy
?” he said to Chappy.

“I am not a
boy
, sir, I am a
man
,” replied Chappy with only the slightest hint of fear.
“Nigel Chapford, at your service.”

“Indeed. Well,
Nigel
, so nice you
could join us. Actually, I am pleased you all have returned. It
appears we have some unfinished business to attend to.”

“You bet we do, you monster!” screamed
Ronnie. Before anyone could grab her she’d scooped up an inkwell
from the front of Tarver’s desk and hurled it at his face. Her aim
was true, but the clay pot passed right through him and smashed
against the teak straight-backed chair in which he sat.

“Oh dear,” he said mockingly, “I rather liked
that piece. The governor himself gave that to me as a gift.”

Ronnie stood there, chest heaving, until T.J.
put a comforting hand on her shoulder and eased her backward to
where Bortnicker gently embraced her as she sobbed quietly.

“Sir William,” said T.J. calmly, “we’ve
returned as you requested, at great danger to ourselves. We’re
anxious to hear your story because, as you suggested, we found your
crypt empty. Would you like to tell us what happened?”

“Finally, a person with a civil tongue,”
snapped the Captain. “Very well, I’ll tell you the tale.” He shot a
look at Ronnie. “And I’d appreciate not being interrupted.” He
stood and pushed his chair back, and it was plain that he was at
least a bit transparent, as T.J. could make out the outline of a
moonlit palm tree through the window behind him.

“I grew up in Bristol, England—no, let me
amend that. I was born there and grew up at sea. My parents had
abandoned me at a young age, and I survived on the streets much the
same way a rat does, on guile and tenacity. Of course, I had no
formal schooling—the back alleys and taverns of Bristol were my
classroom. As soon as I was able, I lied about my age and signed on
as a cabin boy on an East India Company trade ship bound for the
West Indies.

“Having never been away from what I called
home, the seafaring life was a dramatic, often brutal, change. I
was given every disgusting menial task the crew could think of, but
I did the work with great relish, for I saw myself, as ridiculous
as it may have been at the time, as a commander of my own vessel
one day.

“Gradually I adjusted to life at sea and was
accepted as a trusted member of the crew, both by our captain—who
ran a tight ship—and my shipmates. And, I was allowed to see parts
of the world I never dreamed existed.

“Our merchant ship was grand, and we were
able to cram the holds with spices, silks, and other treasures from
the East that would bring untold wealth to the East India Company’s
coffers. Then one day we spied a sloop on the horizon, flying what
we believed to be a British flag. We were relieved in that there
were ongoing problems with other nations such as the Spanish,
French, and Dutch. But when the sloop drew near, it took down the
Union Jack and ran up the Jolly Roger—specifically, a black flag
with a white skull and crossed swords underneath. It was a
privateer, commanded by none other than Calico Jack Rackham, whom I
consider the greatest of all captains.

“Calico Jack’s ship, the
Treasure
,
came alongside us smooth as you please and before you knew it, we
were boarded and captured. Any of our crew who resisted was shot on
the spot and fed to the sharks. Those who did not express a desire
to join Calico Jack’s crew were put in a longboat with some water
and bread and sent on their way, probably never to be seen again,
as we were in the middle of nowhere. I was one of the few who opted
to join the
Treasure
’s crew. And what a fortuitous decision
it was!”

Tarver was pacing now, punctuating his
sentences with sharp hand gestures as he warmed to his story. His
eyes seemed to glow like cobalt, and none of the ghost hunters
dared move a muscle so as not to distract him.

“We sailed the Caribbean, taking whatever we
pleased, from whomever we pleased. I was quickly accepted as a crew
member and was instructed in the use of the flintlock and cutlass
by my mates. In no time I was even participating in hand-to-hand
battles as we captured ship after ship, and Calico Jack himself
lauded me for my bravery under fire. And when we came to port in
such places as Port Royal, I drank and caroused with all the gusto
of a much older man. Ah, those were the great times!”

He paused, wistfully looked out the window,
and continued: “Although our ship was entirely democratic, with
every man receiving an equal share of the spoils, of which there
were many, something came along to ruin it.

“Shortly after I came aboard, Calico Jack
found a woman, Anne Bonny, who as it turned out was every bit the
pirate he was. She became, more or less, his wife, and joined us in
our exploits. Now, some of the men were uneasy with that; it is a
well-known fact that a woman on board a ship is bad luck. But since
she earned her keep, they looked the other way. And I surely didn’t
mind, because she always was kind to me, as well as being easy on
the eyes.” He chuckled then shook his head.

“But things became complicated when we
captured a Dutch merchant bound for the West Indies. As was the
custom, we invited, so to speak, those who did not want to be set
adrift to cast their lot with us. Among them was one Mary Read, a
woman with a buccaneer’s heart as well; but she was in disguise at
the time, affecting the dress and mannerisms of a man! She was able
to keep this secret for a time, but she came to be close friends
with Anne Bonny, which seemed to rankle Calico Jack. This
dissention filtered down through the ranks, and by the time we
docked in Bermuda to repair a hole in the keel, there was a faction
of us who felt disaster was just over the horizon.

“So, I made a bold decision. I gathered
together a group of ten good men who pledged to follow me through
the gates of hell, and deserted Calico Jack’s ship at St. George’s.
We purchased our own sloop and began a new career, with me the
elected captain, which had always been my dream.

“My crew, though small, became a scourge of
the seas, venturing as far south as the coast of Africa and the Dry
Tortugas, taking ships and raiding Spanish settlements. My ship,
the
Steadfast
, was sleek and quick; the big, bulky merchant
traders were clearly overmatched by our cunning and ruthlessness in
battle. In the pursuit of riches my men and I took more lives than
I’d care to count.

“But after a few years, I began to realize
that an age was coming to an end. Even old Calico Jack, the
greatest of them all, was captured and hanged for his deeds. I knew
it was time to begin a new existence. So, on a trip to Bermuda I
approached the governor and offered my assistance as a protector
and defense advisor, to which he was all too happy to agree. In
fact, he was so taken with the idea of a buccaneer defending his
interests that he introduced me to his niece, who later became Mrs.
Tarver, and whose father was a wealthy landowner in Southhampton
Parish. As a dowry we were given this very house and the
surrounding acres, which I determined would be the perfect size for
a tobacco plantation. And this is how I became a gentleman farmer,
while running the occasional privateering errand and designing
fortifications for the island.” He paused, then frowned.

“Alas, a plantation needs workers to make it
profitable, and so I was forced to follow the custom of importing
slaves from the West Coast of Africa to fill the need.”

“Forced?” managed Bortnicker, his words
creating vapor in the freezing room.

A steely look from Tarver silenced him. “If
my business venture was to succeed, I needed manpower. Apparently
you do not understand that there is a certain order in this world.
But how could you? A callow youth who’s probably never had a
blister on his hands...” He sat back down. Clearly this effort was
exhausting him, and T.J. wondered how much longer Tarver would be
able to manifest himself.

“And so, the
Steadfast
made a few runs
to the African coast, and we brought back as many workers as we
could, who by the way were sold to us by other, conquering African
tribes who desired our money.

“Things went well for a time; the plantation
was successful, and Mrs. Tarver and I were relatively happy. The
governor, in gratitude, bestowed my title, and all the trappings of
nobility that came with it. Unfortunately, as was the case with old
Calico Jack, a woman would prove to be my undoing.”

At the mention of this, Ronnie stopped her
sniffling and listened intently.

“We had a field worker named Maruba, a true
beauty who was sturdy yet alluring. As Mrs. Tarver was,
unfortunately, unable to bear a child, which strained our
relationship, I turned to Maruba for comfort, and in the process
she conceived my child. Of course, that ended it for me and my
wife. We would continue to live in the same house as strangers, but
even so, I was pressured to return Maruba to the fields.

“Upon hearing of the pregnancy, the workers,
whom I had always treated fairly and to whom I had rarely raised my
hand in anger, revolted. One stormy night they came for me,
overpowering my overseer and house staff, and dragged me outside by
torchlight. I doubt if my wife had the power, or the desire, to
stop them. I was paraded to the back of the property to a secluded
area and brought to a formidable cedar tree. Along the way, the
rabble-rousers of the group spoke of commandeering the
Steadfast
, which lay at anchor off the beach close by, and
making a run for it to Africa. Of course, there were no sailors
among them. If they did take the ship, they probably dashed it on
the reefs. The last thing I remember as I danced at the end of a
rope was their angry faces, glowering at me with an unfathomable
contempt.”

“Oh my God,” breathed LouAnne.

“They lynched you?” whispered Bortnicker. “On
your own property?”

“Until I was good and dead. And then, after
inflicting spiteful atrocities upon my corpse, they buried me at
the foot of the tree from which I was hanged.”

“And are you still there, sir?” said Chappy,
who had regained his composure.

“That I am. And that is why we are all here.
For some reason, there was an occurrence that had caused me to
reappear in this place of both pride and sorrow. I feel that if I
could only be properly interred with my wife, it just might put
things to rest. Forever.”

“You want us to do you a
favor
?”
blurted Ronnie.

He smiled thinly. “Girl dear, it’s the least
you could do for an old ancestor, don’t you think?”

“How...did you know?” she managed, her voice
a child’s whisper.

“Because, my love, you’re the very image of
her. A little lighter in tone, perhaps, though it’s hard to tell in
this infernal gloom. But you most definitely have her spirit, and
thereby her allure.”

“I’d never let you lay a finger on me,” she
spat at him.

“Don’t be so quick to judge. Life’s
circumstances sometimes put us in ... precarious situations.” His
words hung in the frosty air.

“But enough about me. This whole experience
tonight has been exhausting, and I don’t know how much time I have
left. So I ask: Are you curious enough to find my grave?”

“That’s why we’re here, sir,” said T.J. “If
you’ll lead the way.”

“Good lad, but there could be a problem. I
don’t know how far beyond the walls of this house my ... existence
... reaches.”