The Gentle Englishman. Murder in Paradise by Richard Davies

The Gentle Englishman. Murder in Paradise. By Richard Davies.

(All Rights Reserved. ISBN - 1-4184-6633-1(e)

Story of the Mafia's Casino operation in the Bahamas, and a Spring Break killer.

Most of what follows is true...

Early Seventies. Freeport, Bahamas.

Ron finished his evening meal. It was time to prepare for work. His routine never varied; First came the shower, followed by a close shave. Next, he slowly blow-dried his hair. It had to be perfect - He had to be perfect.

Ron was never entirely satisfied with his appearance, even though to other's he was "Mr. Immaculate"; Tall, handsome, always well turned out, with a rich English accent.

He carefully hand pressed his own Tuxedo shirts, because neither the dry cleaners, nor his domestic did an acceptable job. Next came a tedious task - The Bow Tie. However, that night went well, and he was almost content with the results after re-tying it just twenty times.

It was now seven thirty on the mark, as Ron brushed down his midnight blue Tuxedo. He was about ready to leave for work; All that remained was to slip on his signet ring, and a solid gold, Piaget wristwatch.

Ron worked as a Casino Croupier or Dealer as they are known in the States, in El Casino, located in Freeport on Grand Bahama Island.

The Mafia opened the Casino after Fidel Castro had forced them to abandon their Cuban enterprises originally backed by Batista, the deposed Dictator. Not daunted, they made a similar deal with the Bahamian Government.

Pit Bosses and Supervisors were brought in from Vegas and Cuba, the Dealers from Europe- an artful touch as the Bahamas was still a Crown Colony of Great Britain at the time. They were trained in London by the Mafia's "Casino Division", and many Brits jumped at the chance to earn plenty of money, and live on these tax-free Islands.

Before the advent of Casinos, Grand Bahama Island was a peaceful, untainted Caribbean hideaway. Its only claim to fame a history of Smuggling and Pirate folk lore.

El Casino changed all of that; Billed as the largest Casino in the Western Hemisphere, it stood in the center of the small island; An outlandish Arabian style building encircled by hotels and the International Bazaar, which boasted exotic cuisine to compliment upscale tax-free boutiques.

Within a few years, Freeport became a bustling tourist resort. It's attractions were miles of sandy white beaches, a sea of glass, year round climate, and Casinos.

At that period in time, the only State with legalized gambling was Nevada. There were no Native - American Resorts, Riverboats, or even Atlantic City Casinos. Gamblers, especially from the East Coast, were instantly attracted to the close proximity of the Bahamas. Even the climate was better at that time, before Global warming became a reality. Throughout those years the Islands were untouched by the Hurricanes that would cause so much devastation in decades to follow.

It did appear as if Ron and his co-workers had stumbled into Paradise.

He pulled into the large parking lot, and drove his spotless Mustang Convertible into it's usual space far away from the other vehicles. His co-workers secretly made fun of Ron's many quirks, especially his parking antics, because the lot was always empty except for employee's autos. In fact, there were only a small number of vehicles on the entire island, and Native Bahamanians were not allowed to go into Casinos.

Spring Break from college has always been a huge event in the States, as students travel to sea-side resorts to get away from parents, and have fun. Thousands visit the Florida coastline, and many spent a day or two in Freeport.

In the Seventies, they didn't even need a Passport to visit a different country just a short flight away, and very often their families back home were never aware of that brief trip.

Thirty six Blackjack tables were already opened when Ron began his first stint on Table number one. Dealers usually worked for forty minutes on a table game, and then took a twenty minute break. Shifts lasted from six to eight hours.

When every game was opened in El Casino, they might deal for an hour; But more than sixty minutes was rare, because Dealers began to loose concentration and were more likely to make errors. Casino Supervisors each had four Blackjack tables to oversee, so they relied on that experienced staff. There was no "Eye in the sky" or moving cameras at El Casino.

The Casino was buzzing with tourists that night, many of them college students who had decided to visit the Islands on a whim, with no advance reservations at the Hotels, and consequently, without a place to sleep. It was not long before Ron noticed a real beauty observing his game, and when their eyes met he smiled at her and she melted. The young woman waited for an open seat at his table and sat down to play.

When the Mafia first began operations in the Bahamas, they went exclusively after the wealthy. At it's opening, the Monte Carlo Casino at Lucaya Beach, on Grand Bahama Island, catered solely to High Rollers, but management quickly explored other, more lucrative avenues.

El Casino opened as a Vegas style undertaking, with low stake Table Games and hundreds of Slot Machines. The owners were now aiming for a couple of million working class tourists to visit El Casino each year, and loose around $25 per player. The same philosophy that made Las Vegas into the monster it is today - millions of tourists every year, loosing $50 - $100 in Slots or Table Games; And like Vegas, there was no need to run crooked games, as the odds are always in the House's favor.

Ron and the lovely young woman constantly flirted while she made her dollar bets, and when he was given a break, met at the Kazbaar Coffee Shop.

"Two please, Tony." The waiter showed them to a table."Hello, I'm Ron."

"Hi, I'm Mary Lou," and she giggled. "I just love you're accent."

"Thank you, and I love yours. Where are you from?"

"Orangeburg..It's in South Carolina. You heard of it?"

"I most certainly have. Let me order you something."

"Can I have a Yellow Bird?" Mary Lou asked, beaming.

"Absolutely." Ron gestured towards Tony. "And I'll have Tea with milk, please."

"I've never met an Englishman before. I just adore Peter O' Toole."

"He's outstanding. How long will you be in Freeport?"

"I'm just here for the night. I guess I'll fly back to Palm Beach, tomorrow. That's where I'm staying."

Tony served their drinks.

"Cheers." Ron said.

May Lou giggled again, and sipped her Yellow Bird. "Mm. It's mighty fine."

"Look, Mary Lou, will you wait for me? I have to return to my Table in a few minutes, but I would very much like to see you after work. Do you have any plans?"

Mary Lou was in love. "Why no, there's just little 'ole me. Yes, I sure will wait for you. What time do you finish?"

"Two am. Tony, please take care of Mary Lou. Anything she desires, my tab". Tony smiled as Ron stood, held Mary Lou's hand and kissed it tenderly. "Until Two, then." He walked back towards the Blackjack Pit, and she gazed longingly after him.

They met each time he had a break throughout the evening, and by the finish of his shift Mary Lou was quite drunk.

It was a Full Moon that night, and stars shone brightly in the vast cloudless sky.

"You gonna take me home with you?" She asked as Ron helped her into the Mustang.

"Yes of course, but I thought you might like to have supper, first."

"My, you're so cute." Mary Lou giggled.

"I know a great late night restaurant." He pulled out of the car park. "It's on the beach."

"What ever you want, hon," she replied and sank into the seat.

They were alone on the quiet highway; A well built road, through the middle of a heavily vegetated forest. It was not unusual to make the drive from Freeport to the beach at that time of morning, without encountering another vehicle.

"Oh my, it sure is empty; And I thought that Orangeburg was dead. Where does everyone live?" She asked, as they passed by a dimly lit side-street.

"Well, it's a very modest community. Mostly we live in Freeport, or at the beach. The Locals live at the West End of the Island."

The side-streets had been built in an effort to attract foreign investors to purchase property lots. On each corner, stood an impressive street sign, but the roads led nowhere and eventually trailed off into the Forest.

Ron turned off the main highway onto a smaller road.

"Here we are." he said cheerfully, and parked his car along an unfinished trail.

"Where's the beach?" Mary Lou asked.

He took her in his arms and kissed her passionately.

After some time had passed, he spoke. "Do you really have to leave tomorrow?"

"Well...No, I don't. You see, I traveled here on my own. We had a fight, Randy and me. He's kinda my boyfriend. Heck, I've known him since Grade school. He's such a kid. Not a gentleman, like you. We got a motel in Palm Beach. Anyway, we had words and I up and left. He don't even know where I am," she giggled, excitedly. "No one does."

Ron kissed her again. "You can stay with me, if you want to?"

"Yeah, I'd like that... Show me the ocean."

They walked hand in hand along a narrow pathway through thick undergrowth, and stood facing the gently rolling Caribbean. Mary Lou quickly undressed.

"It feels fine," she remarked, and waded into the sea. "Come on, join me."

Ron watched her frolicking naked in the ocean. "You're so beautiful - So perfect."

"Why, thank you." She went to him, and they embraced.

As Mary Lou turned to lay on the sand he saw the small mark on her back.

"What is that?" He asked.

"That ole thing? It's just a birth mark....Make love to me."

Ron knelt beside her, and lightly touched her face.

"You're not perfect, after all." His hand suddenly tightened around her neck. "You lied to me."

Mary Lou screamed out and kicked wildly; But he was too strong for her, and within a short time her body went limp. She let out one last gasp, and breathed no more.

Ron closed her terrified eyes.

"I really thought I'd found her this time, Mum. She reminded me a little of you."

He dragged the lifeless body into the undergrowth, and laid it to rest - next to the remains of a decomposed body.

"But you will always be the one. They all lie and deceive, but not my Mum."

Ron neatly folded her things, and placed them on the passenger seat of his car.

"Oh well, there's always tomorrow. It's Spring Break, after all. My favorite time of the year."

He caught his reflection in the rear view mirror.

" Something is wrong", he growled. Ron stared into the mirror, intently. "Something is wrong!". He began to loose control...But then quite suddenly, he laughed loudly.

"I know what's wrong." Ron brushed hair out of his eyes. " You need a haircut, my lad!" And he drove away into the still night.

Ghostly Tales of the Norfolk Broads. by Richard Davies

 

Ghostly Tales from the Norfolk Broads by Richard Davies.

All Rights Reserved ISBN-1-4184-6633-5(e)

England. Autumn.

"This is a brilliant idea!" Jessica remarked, from her forward seat on the cabin cruiser. "'Do you know how long its been since we took a holiday?"

"About three hundred years?" Robert replied, as he navigated the craft along The River Yare.

"It's been that long, I had quite forgotten how gorgeous the countryside is around here."

"I've never been on The Broads?" She stumbled to keep her footing on the rolling boat.

Robert laughed. "Well, at least you have a week to find your sea legs. Want to stop for lunch? According to my map, 'The Drowning Man Inn' is just around that bend ahead. Hope that's not an omen?"

They docked the motor cruiser alongside the Tavern; One of the many riverside Pubs to be found in this region.

The Norfolk Broads, as this area is known, consist of several enter twining rivers and their tributaries that wind lazily across the countryside from the Eastern Coast of England. The Broads, are larger bodies of water; 'shallow lakes', connected by these inland waterways.

Later that afternoon, Jessica, now more confident with a full stomach and a couple of Ale's, took over the wheel while Robert with cigar and whiskey in hand, relaxed by her side.

It was late in the season and they were all but alone on the river.

In the Summer months, the Broads are full of motor cruisers and yachts - mostly rentals from the many boatyards in the area.

Robert badly needed the vacation. For the last ten years, he had done nothing else but work, work and more work. They were both relieved to be away from the noise, people, and constant traffic of London.

"Wake up. I think we're lost."

"I wasn't sleeping." He lied. "Just resting my eyes. Anyway, we can't be lost. You probably left the main waterway, that's all. Here, I'll guide us back."

Robert turned the cruiser about until they faced a small, tree covered island in the middle of the Broad.

"Look, there's a place to dock. Fancy stretching your legs?"

"Should we?" Jessica asked. "I mean, it could be private property."

"No. I don't see any signs posted, besides, most of this area is National Park."

He secured the boat, and they walked hand in hand along a narrow path leading inland.

In a clearing ahead, hidden from the river, stood an old cottage.

"That's unbelievable!" Jessica exclaimed. " It's a picture postcard!"

"Look!" It's For Sale. Let's go exploring."

"I think someone's home." Jessica pointed towards a second floor window. "Did you see that curtain move?"

But Robert was already knocking on the front door. "This place is ideal. Can you imagine spending weekends, here? Hello? Anyone home?"

"Maybe they don't want to be disturbed?"

He knocked. harder on the door , and it slowly creaked open...

"Good afternoon...Sorry to trouble you...We were wondering...There's no one in here. Come on Jess." And he entered.

The room was low raftered, with oak beams throughout and furnished with antiques.

"I bet it's a rental."

Jessica hesitantly joined him. "We should leave."

"Nonsense. It's empty. Stay where you are and I'll make sure." He climbed the staircase. "Hello, anybody?"...

Jessica waited in anticipation. There were no other sounds, except his footsteps above.

After a time, Robert reappeared at the top of the handsomely carved staircase.

"What did I tell you? We're alone. Come on up and look at this kiddies bedroom. It's neat. Just the place to raise a family."

Jessica reluctantly followed him. "Does that mean you want children?"

"Yes..I suppose it does." He held her in his arms..."I wonder how much they're asking?"

"I don't know, but we shouldn't make any hasty decisions... There's a lot to consider." She added.

"You're absolutely right. Let's go back to 'The Drowning Man'. The Landlord is certain to know who owns this property, and we can get all the info from him."

Jessica felt a sense of relief, when Robert shut the door of the cottage behind them.

A thick sea-mist quickly enveloped the island, isolating the couple from the mainland.

"That's just great!" Robert said, irritably. The engine failed to start.

He checked the motor, the gas line, and anything else he could locate.

"I can't fix it...Call Ian Marsh. It's his boat. It looks like he rented me an old tub." Robert smiled.

Jessica used her cell phone to contact the Boat Yard's Emergency Service.

"There's no signal. Must be the mist. Did you notice if there was a telephone in the cottage?"

Night was drawing in.

Rain began to fall heavily, and gusts of wind rocked the boat. .

They decided to take blankets, food, and extra clothing, and spend the night at the cottage.

It was difficult to negotiate the wet pathway, carrying luggage and holding flashlights, but eventually the cottage stood before them.

"You go in, and I'll see about starting that generator." Robert said.

It was pitch-black inside the cottage. Jessica did not want to go in, but forced herself.

She kept busy by preparing a fire in the hearth.

There was a plentiful supply of cut logs stacked either sided of the large brick fireplace.

"Mummy, is that you?"...

Jessica froze with fear at the child's voice.

"Mummy, is that you?"...

A ceiling light suddenly flickered on and off. Jessica dropped her flashlight...

"Who are you?"...

The lights in the room came on. Jessica looked about her...

She was alone.

When Robert returned, he was greeted by Jessica holding a bottle of wine and two full glasses.

"Here, drink this, it will warm you up, and then change those wet clothes before you catch your death." She quickly emptied her glass.

Later, that night, they lay in front of the crackling fire, on their third bottle of Merlot.

"You know, it's cozy in here. What's on the Tel- e?" Robert was quite content.

"It will do us good to spend time away from TV's and Telephones." Jessica replied, slightly intoxicated... "I heard a child's voice. At least, I think it was."

"When?"

"Earlier on, while you were starting that generator thing-ie."

"You sure it wasn't the storm? It's bloody raining Cats and Dogs out there. I could hardly hear myself think."

"Yes, you're probably right. Cheers!" But she suddenly shivered.

The rain beat down hard on the wooden roof. Thunder and lightning shook the very foundations of the cottage.

"I'm scared."

" Come here. There's nothing to be frightened of, just lousy weather. Maybe it's not such a good idea purchasing this place after all." He held her tightly in his arms. " I knew it was too good to be true. Drink up."

After a time, they fell into a deep sleep...

"Mummy, is that you?"...

A week later.

"Thar she is",the boatman said to his partner. "I'd better contact the boss...

... "Mr Marsh, we've found 'er."

They pulled alongside the Cabin Cruiser.

..."Are Robert and Jessica all right?" Mr Marsh asked, from his office at the Boatyard.

"I don't see them. Jack is goin' on board to look around."

"Where are you?"

"She's moored in the middle of Bairn's Broad, Mr Marsh."

"What on earth is she doing there, Jo?"

"Beats me. Thar's nothin 'ere...Mr Marsh...Jack says thar's no one below."

"How does she look?" Mr Marsh was perplexed.

"She's fine. Everythin' is where it should be. Thar clothes and stuff 'ere, too."

"I don't like the look of this, Jo. What do you think could of happened?"

"Well, I don't rightly know? But you know these townies Mr Marsh. Tha're apt to do anythin'."

"And there is nothing close by?"

"Nothin'. Like I said, she's moored in the middle of nowhere... Hold on. Let's try somethin'. Jack. See if she will start.

"Jo, I'm going to call the Police."

"You better 'ad Mr Marsh. Thar's nothin' wrong with her - the engine sounds fine."...

 

 

Garage Sale. A Tale of Horror. by Richard Davies

 

Garage Sale. A Tale of Horror by Richard Davies.

(All Rights Reserved ISBN-1-4184-6633-1(e)

Venice Beach.

"Why don't you take a morning off? " Brad sighed. "And come back here, my love."

Kelly smiled as she pulled running shorts over her long tanned legs. "You know I can't miss a day; Not, if I'm going to win that marathon. Keep me company." She tied her sneakers.

"Not today babe. I'm real tired." Brad mumbled, with one eye closed. "Besides, I can't keep up with you at my best."

Kelly blew him a kiss. "Keep the bed warm. I'll be back real soon." She locked the apartment door behind her.

It was a damp, overcast morning at Venice Beach.

The sea mist quickly enveloped Kelly, as she went through her leg stretches.

"Maybe I should forget it this morning?" She thought and suddenly yearned to be safe in her lover's arms.

The mist felt like icy fingers that pinched her skin.

Reluctantly, she slowly began to run along the sidewalk, but when she turned onto Wave View street, her spirits were instantly raised as she passed by the quaint houses.

Wave View is one of the many pedestrian alley ways that criss cross the City of Venice. The houses are an eclectic community of brightly painted wood bungalows and modern multi-level dwellings.

The mist began to clear as Kelly ran passed her favorite house.

It was shaped similar to a light house, with a stained glass dome of a roof.

The front yard was open, and she noticed the young man as he arranged fold-up tables.

"He's having another Garage Sale." She thought. "Every Saturday - like clockwork."

The man caught her gaze for an instant and then shyly turned away to set up his wares.

"He's cute," she smiled and joined the cycle path that winds along the beach from Santa Monica, through Venice and beyond.

Kelly kicked her pace up a notch and began to pass most of the others already on the pathway; joggers, dog walkers and skate boarders.

These days, the Venice Beach community is a diverse group of the rich, poor, street performers, vendors and many vagrants.

It is in some ways, still a throwback from the sixties, with the ever present legacy of Jim Morrison, on billboards, posters, and a "tribute band" that performs "Doors" music at a beach front bar; But there is now something very seedy about the surrounding slums, the ever present police- force, gang-bangers and look a like stores, whose owners did not live in the U.S.A. during those innocent days and could care less about the history of Venice Beach.

Kelly seemed untouched by her surroundings. Tall and beautiful, her long black hair shined as it fell about her shoulders.

Venice Beach promenade, was already a hive of activity when she turned onto Wave View, now near the end of her run.

Kelly glimpsed the young man as he sat behind a table, intently reading a book.

An elderly couple looked at items.

"Why not?" Kelly decided. She stopped running and walked towards the Garage Sale. "Besides, I'm dying to have a closer look at that house."

The young man nodded a welcome as he helped the older man with a purchase. She smiled in return and her gaze was quickly drawn to a piece of jewelery.

"That's adorable!" She said out loud, and picked it up.

"I'm glad you like it." The young man replied, nervously. "It's mine...I mean, I made it."

"I'm impressed. How much are you asking?"

"Er...How about five dollars?"

"Done!" Kelly handed him a twenty dollar bill from a pocket.

"I'll get change." He opened a nearby cash box. "If you're interested, I have more of my jewelery. Would you care to see it?"

"Yeah. That would be great." She really liked his work.

He pointed to his front door. "They're displayed in a case in my living room. I don't always carry it out here, because most people don't appreciate my ideas."

Kelly balked.. "Oh...No...I don't think so...maybe another time?"

"I understand...Another time."

Kelly took her purchase, turned to leave and glanced in through the open doorway.

She noticed an antique looking jewelery case that stood at the end of a narrow hallway. "Is that it?."

"Yes," he replied and approached another shopper. "You're welcome to take a peek..I'll be here if you need me."

"What harm can it do?" She reasoned with herself. "He's out here, other people are around, and I get to see inside the house."

She entered the doorway.

The hallway was old and gloomy; the hardwood floor covered with a shabby rug.

Kelly hesitated, as she smelled a musty odor that permeated the room; Even so, the jewelery case was tempting and just a few feet away. She once more looked over her shoulder and saw that the young man was now some distance away, at the other end of the yard.

Kelly slowly walked towards the living room.

Suddenly, the floor under her feet gave away and she fell into the basement below.

"Hey! Give me your hand!"

Kelly recognized his voice and reached out in the darkness. She felt a sharp, needle prick in her finger, then her legs gave out and she collapsed onto the floor.

She slowly regained consciousness. Her head ached - her eyes felt sore as they adjusted to the brightness of the surroundings.

The room was so cold, that she could not feel her hands or feet.

She lay, naked, on a stone table.

All about her, frozen sides of meat hung on steel hooks.

A door opened and the young man entered the room. He wore a Butcher's leather apron and pulled a cart with tools.

"Good, you're awake." He said, in the same calm voice that now made her skin crawl.

"Have you already introduced yourselves?" He gestured at the body parts.

"No? Well, let me present my wife, Sally... I'm sorry, I don't know your name?"

He waked over to one of the racks.

Kelly tried to sit up, but was unable to move.

"Going somewhere?" The young man asked. "Well, you might need these."

He smiled as he unhooked her severed legs from the meat rack and held them in front of her.

My Perfect Murder by Richard Davies

 

My Perfect Murder. By Richard Davies.

(All Rights Reserved. ISBN-1-4184-6633-9(e)

 

 

It's a perfect day to commit a murder. You are most welcome to accompany me, as long as you don't try to interfere with my plans. You see, it has been on my mind for more than twenty years, ever since I read a news story about a chap who killed his wife. It was headline news for some weeks, because their seemed to be no leads. Reporters referred to it as " The Perfect Murder." That was of course, until the murderer was arrested; But the idea stayed with me. "The Perfect Murder". Was it possible?

Over the years, there have been constant reminders; movies, novels, news reports of this kind of murder, but it seems that only in books and films, do these crimes remain unsolved.

I know what you must be thinking? But I am really not a murderer. In fact, killing any living thing actually repulses me. No, what fascinates, is a murder that cannot be resolved. It seems that there are a number of unsolved murders in other countries; especially The States, which is a violent country by nature, but here in England, killings are thankfully rare, and still make headline news. To my mind, it is more of a challenge.

I have lived in London, most of my adult life; Worked a steady, uneventful job and make a moderately good living; However, I was raised in a small town, a suburb of London, and that is where I am going to achieve murder. I spent my youth in that town and know all the special places where only kids hangout, and like so many English towns, it has hardly changed over the years; A few more houses, residents even a supermarket, otherwise much the same as I remember.

My first thought was to travel by public transport today, but that would entail a couple of buses, a train, and the chance that somebody might remember me. So I decided to drive my car. It is a newer model Ford, and blends in nicely with the hundreds of other, identical Fords on the roads. And I seem to be fortunate, because there's plenty of rain; a day for only the hardiest of pedestrians.

I always felt that one of the main reasons why murderers get caught, is because of Police records. Once you acquire one it remains with you forever, just a mouse-click away. It is virtually impossible to stay anonymous with a record. As for my Police record? It is, I am happy to report, non-existent. In all my years, there has never been any incidents involving the Police. I have never even been finger-printed. I am a model citizen.

It is Saturday evening, and the streets are busy, but I am allowing plenty of time. There is no hurry. Anyway, most of the population will soon be at their evening destinations.

For the last ten years, I have followed the same routine; I drive to my favorite Pub, have a couple of pints of Ale, and return home to watch a late-night show, or read a good novel. I get to sleep in on Sunday morning, before attending Church. Tonight, I had half a pint and left earlier than usual. I won't be missed; I'm the type of person, that few recall. 'Old, what's his name?'

What's my motive, you may well ask? All murderers have one, and many are caught because of theirs; love, hate, money, greed, sexual perversion. How could my motive jeopardize me? Well, if I feel the need to share my experience with someone, that is a way for me to mess up. After all, that has undone many a criminal. People love to boast about their achievements.

It's now raining very hard, but I am not worried about traffic. In England, we are used to driving in these conditions, but there are very few people walking, and I require at least one for my purposes.

You see, mine, is going to be a murder of opportunity; So, unless I am unfortunate enough to be caught, or even observed at the scene, I cannot be connected in any way, after the fact. It seems that so many murders are committed by family, supposed friends, or acquaintances, who immediately become suspects.

Why not simply do a "Drive By''? Well, first of all, it is not easy to find a firearm in England. I am not a criminal, so I have no idea where to go, or whom to ask. Anyway, a "Drive By Shooting", is so "Wild West", and to my mind, cowardly. I mean, if you are going to do a thing, there should be certain guidelines. I do have standards to uphold.

Tonight, I am blessed. The rain has stopped. Now there is fog, which often gathers in this valley. It could be a genuine "Pea Soup- er."

I suppose it's only polite to reveal my plans to you; besides, I'm beginning to get excited, as I get closer to my goal.

I will park my car, not far from our old house. This is a residential area, with no parking restrictions. People often park cars along this street, so no one will pay any attention to mine. From there, it's a short walk to an alley way, which connects this neighborhood to a small street of shops and a Pub.

I am going to wait in hiding in this alley way. There are bushes on either side of a narrow pathway.

As a child, and even into my teens, I was afraid to walk alone through this alley after dark, and often sprinted it's distance as fast as my legs would carry me; But during the day it was our haven, where we played many a game. It was possible to conceal oneself in these thick bushes and undetected, spy on locals as they passed by.

I will take my position, just before "closing time".There are always a few patrons who walk to their local Pub, no matter the weather, particularly on Saturday night. In fact, my parents sometimes made that very same walk, on Summer evenings. My target is a straggler. You know the chap. He's the one who never wants to leave the Pub, even when the bar's closed. Eventually, he gets the message, and makes the walk home, somewhat worse for wear. I say a man, because that is the most likely scenario, but if it happens to be a woman, then, so be it. I am an equal opportunity predator.

From my vantage point, I can watch as they enter the alleyway, and once I am sure they are alone...Bingo!

I struggled with the choice of weapon, for many years. I knew it had to be something I already owned. It would be a stupid mistake to purchase a weapon and leave possible evidence, that may come back to haunt me. The obvious choice is a kitchen knife, but that 's problematic. I am not an skilled assassin, and it needs to be a fatal stab. I can't take the risk that my victim will not be killed quickly and have time to scream out; Fog will definitely work to my advantage as it deadens sound, but it is still risky; And then there's always the chance that they will fight back, or manage to get away from me. I don't relish a street fight. Jackie Chan, I am not! There may also be a great deal of blood. I am wearing gloves for obvious reasons, aside from the fact that it's cold, but I don't want blood all over me if I can help it. After all, it is Saturday night, and I'm wearing my new raincoat.

I always felt this would be the hardest decision. I eventually decided on a Dead Blow Hammer from my tool box. Aptly named, don't you think?

The candidate will have to walk very close by me, so I'll have an unrestricted swing at the back of their head; And because I am tall, it will at the very least, stun them. Who knows, one good blow might do the trick? I wouldn't want anyone to suffer.

Once, I am sure they are dead, it's back to my car, and home. Voila! 'Simplicity is success', as my Father would say.

The Fog is dense, now and I can't see more than a few feet in front of the car. I don't like driving in these conditions, but fortunately I'm almost there.

This is a good parking space. I won't have to walk far from here.

All right, one final check; Well, the coast is clear and there's not a soul about, as usual. I've got my Hammer. It's time to go. You'd better wait in the car for me.

I'm feeling a little cold. I hope that I won't have to wait for long. Hold it! Did I lock the car? I'd better make sure. One can't be too careful, these days.

I'm walking by my old house. It looks the same as when I lived there. I miss that place.

The alley is just ahead, and it is as eerie as always; especially, shrouded in fog; But I am not nervous. Tonight, I have the power.

It really is quite dark in here. I should have brought a flashlight. There's my place, just...

...My head...that hurt...what's happened?..I feel faint...Hey! You?..Please don't hit me aga...

The Devils Sea. Voyage of The Pirate Ship Henrietta.

 

The Devils Sea. Voyage of the Pirate Ship Henrietta. By Richard Davies.

(All Rights Reserved ISBN-1-4184-6633-6(e).

 

1730. Caribbean.

 

 

"Thar she blows, Cap'n Clifford! Headin' South-West!" The lookout spied a vessel on the horizon. Captain Clifford studied it through his telescope.

"She be a Merchant, Lads. Make ready! Stand by bow cannon!"

The Pirate Schooner had been hidden from view in the calm waters off the West End of Grand Bahama Island. The Captain favored that vantage point; It concealed them from the Florida Straits, and at the same time protected them from sudden attack, as the larger "Men of War" were unable to safely navigate the shallows within the island's reefs.

The Henrietta was equipped with extra cannon on both the Bow and Stern of the ship; Unusual for a fighting vessel. She could fire her cannon while sailing directly at, or away from the enemy, instead of maneuvering into a broadside position before firing her guns.

Surprise seemed to have payed off, once again. The slower Merchant vessel was no match for Captain

Clifford's seamanship. "Fire!"

Two cannons blazed, and hit their mark. Smoke billowed from the ship's stern: The Merchant was disabled.

Within minutes it hoisted a white flag of surrender.

The Pirate crew cheered at the sight. A battle had been won, without casualties.

"Prepare to board, lads." The Captain ordered. "Pass the word."

"Cap'n! Vessels approachin' on the Starboard Bow." A seaman hollered from the Crow's Nest. "They be "Men O' War, Cap'n!"

Two Naval ships had been shadowing the Merchant vessel, and now headed directly towards the Henrietta.

The Merchant ship suddenly maneuvered, broadside.

"It be a damn trap." Captain Clifford cried. "Hard to port!"

Just then, the Merchant Marine opened fire and cannon shot exploded above the Pirate ship.

The two Naval craft were rapidly closing on the Henrietta.

"They be Frigate's, Cap'n. We can't outrun 'em." The Mate sighed.

Naval Frigate's were built for speed; a deadly adversary of Pirate ships.

"We be famous, matey's." The Captain grimaced.

The Henrietta had recently attacked, and plundered three other Merchant Vessels in those waters, and the British Government decided it was time to put an end to Captain Clifford Brown's Piracy.

"We'll make for Bimini, me hearties. Headin' South - South West." The captain gave orders to the Helmsman. "Those Blighter's won't nab us afore then. Make ready the stern cannon!"

"Aye Aye, Cap'n!" Smithy, the Mate replied.

Once the Henrietta reached the shallows surrounding Bimini, it stood a good chance of escape.

The Merchant ship could not follow the Pirates, and now followed on a parallel heading; However, the Frigates were able to negotiate those seas, and continued to gain on the Schooner.

"Man O' War, dead ahead, Cap'n!" A lookout shouted.

Not far in front of them, a Ship of The Line, came into view. A vessel of that size, and armament was usually reserved for large-scale Naval sea battles.

The Henrietta was trapped.

"We be doomed." Smithy murmured.

"Stand ready, lads!" Captain Clifford cried. "We'll not go down without a fight!"

The Ship of the Line opened fire. The sound was deafening, but the Pirate ship was still out of range for the time-being and the cannon shot splashed wildly into the Caribbean.

"Fog - Bank, Port Bow, Cap'n."

"Shiver me timbers," the Captain gasped. "I ain't never seen anythin' the likes in all me years at sea."

Two hundred feet away, a wall of darkness engulfed the ocean from sea to sky.

"It be a grand black door, Cap'n!" Smithy cried.

The Frigates were close at hand, and the Battleship now in range.

Captain Clifford had to make a decision.

"Arr what the 'el. We all gotta die sum time, boys. Hard to Port!"

The Henrietta headed directly into the fog.

"It be a Pea-sou per, Cap'n." A seaman remarked.

The crew to a man, had never encountered anything like it before. It was impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction, but it felt not like fog, more as if they were in a dark tunnel.

"No lanterns." The Captain ordered. "Pass it on. We may cheat the Gallows yet, matey's."

Suddenly, darkness was behind them, and the Schooner drifted on the current through an enclosed canal.

"We be in Hell's Locker, Cap'n." Smithy exclaimed.

But the Pirate ship soon exited the canal, and was once again afloat in the ocean.

"Land Ahoy!" The lookout yelled.

"Where in the Devil, be we, Cap'n?"

"I don't rightly know Smithy?" Captain Clifford replied.

Ahead, an immense City loomed up before them. The majestic buildings glittered as gold, in the sunlight.

'Cap'n., them Navy boys, will they be a followin'?"

"If they be, lad, we be trapped. Thar's no way around that city."

As the Henrietta sailed closer, the crew watched in awe.

There were twenty, stone landing piers, jutting out of the Harbor, with vessels of all kinds moored alongside.

"Fetch in the sails, boys! Prepare to dock! Stand by the bow cannon!" Captain Clifford was wary, and confused.

The Harbor was deserted. Nothing stirred; Man nor beast. He suspected another trap. His crew were prepared, but if the Naval ships had managed to follow them it would be a one-sided battle.

The Captain reluctantly decided his men would stand more chance on land.

The Schooner moored alongside a massive ship, and crew members climbed from the ship to secure the lines Fore and Aft.

"Cap'n these hooks be gold. All of 'em!" A seaman exclaimed, as he coiled ropes on the dock.

"We be in Heaven, shipmates!" Smithy said.

Captain Clifford ordered a skeleton crew to remain on board, the rest assembled on the Pier.

Many of the docked ships, were unknown to the Pirate crew. There were ancient sea-craft, alongside sleek modern ships.

"Cap'n, do you hear?" The second-mate tapped on the hull of the massive ship. "It be tin, could be copper. That ain't possible, Cap'n. She should be in Davy Jones Locker."

The Captain touched the smooth surface. "Glory be. Ahoy, Smithy! What be her name?"

"U.S.S. CYCLOPS, Cap'n."

The gates of the city opened, and a group of men approached The Henrietta.

"Landlubbers, boys. Make ready... Hold your fire. They be unarmed."

"They be wearin' frocks, me hearties." A seaman said, and the Pirate's jeered.

One of the group spoke. "Welcome to Atlantis. We are a peaceful nation. Lower your weapons... Only the Gods know how you came to us, but you are welcome to stay, as others have. It is Poseidon's wish."

"Smithy, what language be that?" Captain Clifford, asked.

"I don't rightly know, Cap'n. Look at the gold on 'em."

Suddenly, a pistol fired. The man who had spoken fell, wounded.

Several more weapons fired, and others in the welcoming group were hit.

"Hold your fire, you scurvy!" The Captain screamed.

Some crew members began to remove the gold jewelery from the wounded men as they lay on the dock; Others in the group fled back to the city.

"Prepare to set sail!" Captain Clifford ordered. "We' ve worn out our welcome, lads!"

"But the gold, Cap'n?" Smithy asked. " Thar must be more where that come from?"

Trumpets sounded within the city.

"Stand by to cast off." The Captain climbed on board.

An army began to march out of the gates.

"Forget the gold, shipmates!" Smithy shouted. "Cast off! Cap'ns orders!"

The Pirate ship headed back towards the tunnel. There was nowhere else to go.

Captain Clifford had no idea what to expect, or even if they could return; but behind them, hundreds of troops embarked onto ships.

The Henrietta safely passed though the entrance, and once again entered the covered waterway.

Captain Clifford ordered his men to lower the row-boats. The crew would have to tow the Schooner against the current, much as they did when She was becalmed at sea.

Many of the Pirates wondered if the Naval Warships would be waiting.

The Black Hole was dead head.

"Cap'n, it's been a pleasure sailin' with you." Smithy said, grimly, as darkness engulfed them.

Then, quite suddenly the Sun was shining and a breeze rocked the Henrietta, as she bobbed in the Caribbean.

The Naval ships were nowhere in sight.

"Cap'n! Look aft." Smithy shouted. " The Black Door. It be gone!"

"Make ready the sails, lads. We've out-foxed the Scum!"

The crew were in high spirits as they headed towards the Straits.

.

"Ship on the horizon, Cap'n! A lookout warned. "She's quick as a Porpoise!"

"Man the cannon, me hearties. No more fleein'. We stand, and fight!" Captain Clifford spied the approaching ship. He had never seen any vessel move with such speed. It was about the same size as the Henrietta, but he could see neither masts nor sails and it was a ghostly gray color. "Prepare to fire starboard cannon."

The guns roared, but the enemy ship easily avoided the attack.

"Attention! Cease firing immediately... Listen up... You are in United States Jurisdiction. Identify yourself!...I say again...We are United States Coast Guard Coastal Vessel -Typhoon...Your ship is in U.S. Waters...Be warned. We are armed, and will return fire if provoked...Stand by to be boarded."

The Pirates fell to the deck in terror, as a Coast Guard Helicopter passed overhead.

"Men. I know not whare we be?.... But the Henrietta will ne'er surrender!...Prepare to fire!"...