The Demise of Foxy Jack (Adventures of the X Pirates Book 1) (3 page)

Determined to exceed his family’s expectations of him the squirrel put all his money into the creation, construction, and promotion of the entertainment vessel, Tamasha. It was his biggest gamble ever.

Manfred was in his private starboard cabin counting the winnings and preparing to cash out the players when he was thrown against the bulkhead as Tamasha went full reverse. The squirrel was able to scramble to his feet and scoop up the money as she made her hard turn. He was stuffing it all in a satchel just as she began to list and roll.

When her paddle cover shattered so did the large decorative window in his cabin and a flood of ice cold water rushed in. Manfred dove through the window and the cascade. Before long he was in the water and looking back at Tamasha. The satchel of money was keeping him afloat, but it was beginning to soak up the ocean water and getting heavier by the second. Then Manfred watched his creation die.

By design, Tamasha’s interior was opulent and lush. She had fifty state rooms and could accommodate the pleasures of upwards of two hundred and twenty five guests in her dining rooms and gambling halls. One hundred and ten performers, hostesses, and crew worked the two stages, the crowds, and the mighty Tamasha engines. Three hundred and thirty five souls were lost when the Tamasha went down. Five of those lost souls were mysterious players in a private high stakes gambling party.

They had been secreted on board before any of the other passengers arrived. All five took up residence in the Madam Mustache gaming room. It had been named after the famous proprietress of the infamous brothel the Café Pussé. The Madam had been Manfred’s first lover. Theirs was a tumultuous and passionate affair that began and ended several times over. Only Manfred knew that her mustache was a fake. It was a facade to mark her apart.

First to arrive was Minister of War, William Geoffrey Cant whose brilliant plan for finding Benjamin Nightthorn consisted of rounding up hundreds of innocent crows, imprisoning, beating, and torturing them incessantly until they revealed nothing of any use. His two guests were General Janus Hardley, who ordered and planned the Battle of Bourne and war profiteer, Gangus Uttley.

A special seat was reserved for Lady Nichole Vevox. Rumored to be Queen Anastasia’s secret lover, she carried with her money and instructions from her Majesty to enjoy an evening of gambling and entertainment, and then to return to her royal bedchamber. It had been a gift after a vicious bout of jealousy over a male who had flattered Lady Vevox once too often.

The gaming had been fierce and relentless in Madam’s room. These were serious gamblers. They dealt in profit, blood, life and death, but greed was their principal passion. They shouldn’t have been in each other’s company. Not under these circumstances. They shouldn’t have been on board at all. They were all a moment away from cashing out when Nightthorn and Revenge crashed the party.

The satchel and the money that both saved Manfred, and almost drowned him, was their money, and there was a great deal of it. No one could know that Manfred Pinkus had survived. No one could know that he had gotten away with a small fortune. There would be an inquest and Manfred would most certainly hang just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It would be in the squirrel’s best interests for Manfred Pinkus to remain the deceased owner of Tamasha.

The ocean water had healed him of some of his wounds but the squirrel’s right leg was cut and broken in several places. He struggled and dragged himself across the beach to a fallen tree branch that provided him a temporary crutch. He managed to get to his feet and gather some pieces of driftwood that he used to brace his leg. Using the torn off sleeves of his  tattered silk shirt he bound the wood to his leg, and with that he was able to stand.

The squirrel was in pain, but determination and anger dulled the discomfort. Manfred was angry and confused at the loss of his Tamasha. Just before the explosion he saw the other ship. He knew what, and who it was out there in the dark. Anyone who does business at sea is aware of the risk known as Benjamin Nightthorn. One day, he was going to kill the crow for what he had taken from him but for now he had to extricate himself from his current dilemma.

Wondering if he was alone, Manfred went exploring and found the island’s inhabitants. He hobbled up a large tree lined dune and found himself looking out over the town of Bronck. There was a central Main Street from one end of the island to the other that divided the town in two lengthwise.  On one side of the island were the homes of the fishers of the seas and their families. Their fishing boats were also harbored there.

On the opposite side of the island were the market and seaport. Row after row of shops and open-air fish markets all lined up to the street and backed up to the sea. Behind them were the public docks that provided easy access to all the harvested fish caught in the bountiful waters off the Island of Bronck. There were hard working pelicans everywhere. There were commerce and profit hungry creatures of business everywhere as well. All Manny could see was a great deal of work, and very little play.

Manny moved down the dune and made his way to the closest home to it. Being careful not to be spotted, he pulled a garment from the clothesline and quickly put it on. The pale blue dress was very pretty, but not what the squirrel had in mind. Having no choice he kept moving around the outside of the house. There was a shawl on a chair in the yard at the rear of the home. That went with him as well.

No one in town noticed the older woman with the shawl and the crutch walking through their midst. Bronck was a very busy place with creatures moving to and fro, and always in a rush. No one in town really noticed that she was listening to everything they were going on about.

The sneaky squirrel listened and learned that the Founder’s side of the island had remained uninhabited since the great pelican had left. Everyone had been long awaiting his return. After a while those who came to Bronck Island and didn’t feel as if they fit in, began to settle there. Odd ships with questionable intent docked on this side of the island and no one ever asked any questions. Seafaring rascals of all sorts came and went, and no one said a word or thought twice about it.

Manfred began to see a way of making money while at the same time creating an entirely new persona for himself. Other than the name of the island the only remaining proof of its founder’s existence was the long abandoned home he had built on his side of the island. The squirrel found it near where he had washed ashore. It would serve quite nicely for his plans.

In a large shed behind the house the squirrel found the Founder’s tools and workshop. There, he had stored things that he collected from the items that washed up on shore. Manfred felt that was fitting. He gathered a few things and tinkered away until he created a sleeve and mechanical device that would allow his shattered leg to work again. He added a small water filled piston to give his leg a hissing sound as he walked. It wasn’t really necessary, but it did add character to his impairment.

Manfred began secretly rebuilding the Bronck house and all its many rooms while at the same time envisioning and creating his new self. Every time he hammered himself and not the nail, he would remember his own father’s temper and  grousing manner. Every time he doubted his new plan to survive he would remember the taunts of the pelicans calling him mad. Whenever he thought he would never be finished, he would hear the echoes of his own kind, laughing at him.

When the time came he buried the Tamasha nameplate and the satchel of money. After a brief but deeply heartfelt ceremony Manfred donned an eye patch. It was the finishing touch to his new self and a constant reminder to never look back.

One day, a squirrel named Mad Manny stepped out of the woods on the far end of the island, but to the residents of Bronck he seemed to have been there all along. The legend goes that the squirrel with the eye patch who squatted at the Bronck House, turned it into a tavern and gambling hall. Along with his missing eye, he had a missing leg. In place of the limb he had lost he wore a device made of springs, gears and tiny pistons.

Mad Manny was a crazy critter with a short fuse and a powder keg for a temper. He barked insults like a dog and sounded like a tea kettle when he walked. Manny believed that small, strong and brave was better than small, weak and scared. His feisty attitude made the Drop Anchor Tavern a very raucous place. Fights were common and brawls were commonplace.

The only thing that kept the peace was entertainment so Manny built a stage. He hired singers, dancers, and on rare occasions, an actor. The squirrel loved actors. They were the very best storytellers.

If you could find Mad Manny today and you were to ask him who the greatest actor he ever booked was, the greatest actor he had ever seen for that matter, he would tell you it was the fox that came to the Drop Anchor, gave only one spectacular performance, and then never returned. They first met over a game of cards one morning at the tavern.

The fox just walked in the door.

We’re not open yet.

Manny griped.

I know.

The fox said, as he made his way to the table the squirrel was seated at. Manny was shuffling a deck of cards. The fox sat across from him.

Hard of hearing?

The squirrel inquired.

Not at all.

The fox insisted.

I’ll tell you what.

Manny said, as he dealt them each four cards.

I’m not much of a morning creature so I’ll let the cards decide if I’m going to let you stay or throw you out of here on your tail end.

The fox said nothing to the challenge, but he responded by turning over the first of the four cards before him.

It was the Ace of clubs.

Manny pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and blew his nose into it rather loudly.

I have to warn you, Mister Fox.

The squirrel honked into the cloth patch again.

I’m allergic to bullshit.

Manny turned the first of his four cards over.

Bullshit and nonsense make my nose run.

His card was the nine of clubs.

The fox remained unresponsive except for the turn of his next card.

It was the eight of spades.

I happen to think.

Manny began as he blew his nose once more.

I mean instinct tells me.

He continued, as he balled up the handkerchief.

That you are stuffed full of both.

He returned the well-soaked wad to his back pocket and turned over his next card.

It was the nine of diamonds.

The squirrel was looking at the cards before him and things were looking good for his silent opponent’s quick exit. Manny woke with a headache that day and he just wasn’t in the mood for making acquaintances. The fox however, never took his eyes away from Manny as he turned his own card next.

It was the eight of clubs.

Two pairs. My nine’s high.

Manny gloated as he turned his quickly.

It was the Jack of hearts.

Your tail is that much closer to the door.

Manny started rolling up his sleeves.

The fox was turning over his fourth card and Manny was still eying the play, itching for a fight, and calculating his chances of winning. He was tired of this place. He had been here too long. The sameness of every day was wearing on him. The cards were in his favor. There would be frustration to let out all over this fox for disrupting his morning.

The gambler in Manny was well engaged. The fox would turn his card. Most likely a lower number. Suit only mattered in determining a draw. Manny would then turn his last card. Most likely a lower card as well but what he had showing would still have him leading as each of them drew a fifth card from the top of the deck to decide the winner.

Whatever the combination the thirteen ranks fell within their four suits the squirrel was enjoying playing with the fox. There had been many hands dealt at the Drop Anchor and Manny had never stopped gambling, but there was something about his silent opponent that was drawing Manny in. He was thinking that he might be judging him too harshly as he watched the fox’s forth card turn. That one card changed everything.

It was the Ace of spades.

The four cards together sent a quivering sensation up Manny’s spine.

This game is forfeit.

Manny whispered after a moment.

Why?

The fox asked.

Never mind why. Just get out.

Why?

The fox asked again.

Because no matter what my next card is you’ll still have to draw from the top of the deck for your fifth turn.

Yes. I know.

The fox said with a grin.

You never draw on Death’s Hand.

Manny shouted.

Amongst the gambling class, a hand consisting of two pairs, aces and eights, suited clubs and spades, was considered the worst possible combination to hold.

Richard Potash was the greatest card player ever known. The ground hog was so skilled and adept at handling and understanding their elusive mathematical magic that most players would not draw against him for fear of the inevitable drudging at the clutches of Potash and his fifty-two assistants. This resulted in less play, but the less he played, the more he began to create games to play.

Many say that when the ground hog first created the game of Four Turns and a Draw, its players enjoyed themselves long into the night until suspicion of cheating by the games creator ended in his death by strangulation. The cards in question were the ones the ground hog had been dealt before his demise. The cards in question were the ones the mysterious fox had just been dealt. The cards in question had also caused Manfred Pinkus to quietly fold during his last game aboard Tamasha.

The fox reached for the draw.

The next card predicts your undoing.

Manny warned.

Richard Potash never had the chance to draw his last card the night he died. There have been many guesses as to what that draw card might have been.