A Red Sky Rising Read online

  At least, that was what everyone else was meant to believe.

  Setting her comb down, Mrs. Hamond asked, “Do you ever think we’ll see her again, Matthew?”

  The Commodore straightened out his coat and hung it on the rack. He continued about his business, almost like his wife had not even said a thing.

  “Dear?”

  He remained silent, wiping some dust from his buttons.

  “Matthew, can you please answer me?” she begged.

  Commodore Hamond heaved his shoulders, a heavy sigh passing from his lips. He tried to avoid talking about the pirates. He knew what kind of lives they lived. They were lives of danger, where every day could be their last. At a moment’s notice, some sailor could have a lucky shot, sending the pirate to the grave. Even if Julia did live to see them again, it would most likely be as she was walking to the gallows.

  “I… don’t know,” he said.

  Mrs. Hamond stood up from her seat and came to stand by her husband. She could see the beads of sweat running down his bare back. The stress had been affecting him even more than usual the past couple of weeks. Reports of pirate sightings had been piling up on his desk. No matter how much he read, he always dreaded the next page. It had gotten so bad that some nights he could not even sleep.

  “Isn’t there something you can do?” she asked.

  Turning to face his wife, he asked, “Like what, Catherine? I’m in the Navy. I can’t just go out and take a ship to go searching for a bunch of pirates who may already be dead. I have a duty to my superiors and to my soldiers. Embarking on a voyage like that would just raise too many questions.”

  His wife’s eyes began to well up with tears.

  “Do you really think our baby’s dead?” she choked.

  “I-I didn’t say that.”

  No matter what he would have said, the damage had already been done. The tears started flowing from Catherine’s eyes. She did not want to believe that her only daughter could die.

  Holding his wife close, Matthew tried to comfort her as best he could. Taking her head in his hands, he wiped away the wet streaks from her eyes. He could feel the warm droplets run down the backs of his hands as he tried to understand how his wife felt.

  All of his years in the Navy had made hiding his emotions almost a second nature. Catherine did not have that luxury. Having to watch her daughter leave them for the life of a pirate had nearly crushed her. She tried her best to hide it, but Matthew could tell that his wife was an emotional wreck.

  He led Catherine over to the bed and lay down with her. It hurt him every time, only being able to watch her cry and not being able to do anything to comfort her. Even he himself was not sure if everything would be alright.

  Gently, he ran his hand up and down her arm, trying in vain to ease her sorrow. There were few times in the Commodore’s life that he ever felt helpless, but every time he saw his wife like this, he felt nothing but helplessness.

  “Dear… we don’t even know where she is. What if she’s stranded somewhere and we’re just laying here doing nothing?” Catherine sobbed.

  “Don’t say things like that,” he said.

  “But what if it’s true? What if that’s what’s happening right now?”

  “Please, Catherine… stop.”

  Images and scenes flooded his mind. It was disturbing to see what flitted into his vision. He tried to erase it from his brain, but he could not get rid of it.

  The Red Sky burning… the crew dead and strewn across a bloody beach… a mortally wounded Julia marooned on an island as she breathed her final, painful breath…

  The image was so clear in his mind that he almost believed it. He nearly cried out in agony. He did not want to see that happen. He wanted to go out and find them. He needed to set sail and find those pirates. He just needed to see his daughter again. Every single moment without her was taxing to him and his wife. They could barely even stand it.

  They both lay on the bed for a long time. Neither slept. They could not bear to close their eyes. It seemed as if time had frozen, with the exception of the raindrops pattering against the glass. Nearly every day ended with Catherine crying herself to sleep and Matthew watching. He could do nothing to stop it.

  “Darling?”

  He knew his poor wife was still awake. Her shoulders were still shuddering.

  “Yes, dear,” she sniffed.

  “What… what can I do?”

  Taking her hand, he tried to calm her.

  “Help me understand what I can do,” he said.

  *knock* *knock* *knock*

  The Commodore sat up in bed with a start. It was the middle of the night. Nobody should have been banging on their front door.

  *knock* *knock* *knock*

  The pounding became louder, prompting Commodore Hamond to get out of the bed. Not even bothering to put on a shirt or the shoes at the bottom of the bed, he hurried downstairs. Hopefully, their uninvited guest had a worthwhile reason for being on their doorstep so late at night.

  Whoever had been knocking must have heard him coming down the stairs. The shadows standing in the windows stood still as they waited for the Commodore to answer their summoning.

  As the Commodore flung open the door, lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the drenched, red coats of the soldiers. Four of them stood in the doorway, staring at their superior with stern expressions on their faces. So far as he could remember, he had never seen any of them before.

  “State your business, soldier,” the Commodore ordered.

  It was almost as if the Commodore had not said anything.

  “Is your wife here as well, sir?” asked the one soldier, carrying several documents in his arms.

  “Yes, I am,” said Catherine, pulling a robe over her nightgown as she made her way down the stairs, “What is this all about? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Whatever it is, can’t it wait until morning? We’re trying to get some sleep,” said the Commodore.

  “Sir, I’m afraid this is of particular importance to you,” said a soldier.

  Upon hearing that, the man with the documents cleared his throat and unrolled one of the parchments.

  “Commodore Matthew Hamond and Mrs. Catherine Hamond, you are both under arrest.”

  Catherine gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Matthew was not even sure he heard correctly. It was all so sudden. In an instant, the soldiers had grabbed them and placed shackles on their wrists. Even as the soldiers locked the shackles, neither of the Hamonds knew how to react. They were startled and confused. What had they done?

  “Bring them along,” said the soldier.

  Before the Hamonds could even say anything, the soldiers forced them out into the pouring rain. They were shoved in front of the soldiers like common prisoners. It was demeaning and embarrassing. The Commodore tripped and fell into a puddle, drenching himself with mud. Catherine tried to help him, but she was pushed aside.

  Watching the soldiers shove his wife, Hamond gritted his teeth in anger. No one treated Catherine like that and lived. Even with the shackles on his wrist, he had to do something.

  “Don’t you lay a hand on my wife again,” he ordered, getting to his feet.

  The soldiers pointed their muskets at him, keeping him a safe distance away.

  “Did you hear me?” he yelled, balling up his fists.

  Catherine stood on the other side of the soldiers and tried to get to him, but they stuck their muskets in front of her, barring the way. That was all the Commodore could stand.

  Driven into a rage, he grabbed the barrel of one of the muskets and jammed the butt into the soldier’s ribs. The other men were caught off-guard by the Commodore’s attack. That just made it easier.

  Matthew whipped the gun around and smacked the second soldier in the head. The third man was given a kick to the knee and collapsed on the ground. The soldier with the papers tried to pull out his pistol, but the Commodore was too quick. In seconds, the man was feeling the p
ointed end of a bayonet pricking his nose.

  “Drop the gun, boy,” the Commodore ordered.

  The soldier acquiesced immediately.

  “Now tell me who ordered this.”

  “I did.”

  Commodore Hamond turned around and saw a man standing in the gateway to the mansion. Behind him were a dozen soldiers, all leveling their guns at the prisoner. Reluctantly, Matthew dropped the musket to the ground, knowing he could not fight them all. He held his wife close, praying that she would be safe. He was not going to risk losing their lives to this man and his militia.

  The man strode forward, his gray wig flowing out from under his hat. His blue Navy uniform was covered by a black overcoat which the wind whipped behind him like a cape. A servant held an umbrella over his head, a vain attempt to keep the rain from wetting his head. He removed the gloves from his hand, allowing the Commodore to see the wrinkled skin. The wind blew the overcoat again, revealing the unmistakable gold tassels of an admiral.

  “Admiral Carter?”

  The cold, blue eyes of Edward Carter peered through the downpour at his shackled officer. He was a man whose reputation had spread over the seas and throughout the colonies like wild fire. He was known to deal with pirates and criminals in the most brutal ways. His mere presence was enough to make both lawbreakers and soldiers freeze in their tracks.

  “Why yes, Commodore, it is me. I apologize for the gruffness of my men, but… you know how they prefer to treat criminals.”

  “Criminals? What are the charges?” Matthew asked, trying to keep his wife sheltered from the rain.

  The beaten soldier rushed to Admiral Carter’s side and handed him a document. Not once did Carter break his eye contact with Hamond.

  Unrolling the paper, he read, “The charge for which you are being arrested is association with a convicted pirate, including but not limited to withholding critical information from the English Navy, conspiring with said pirate, and even engaging in the act of piracy yourself.”

  He handed the paper back to his soldier and asked, “How do you plead?”

  “Not guilty,” said both of the Hamonds at once.

  There was no chance that anyone could have possibly connected either of them to piracy. Nobody had seen the Commodore helping Riggs and the pirates battle Garrett. All of the soldiers from that battle were dead. Who had seen them?

  The Admiral leaned forward as lightning flashed across the sky. It lit up his weathered face as he said, “We’ll have to see about that, Mr. Hamond. In the meantime, you have been stripped of your position as commodore while you await trial. Both you and your lovely wife here will spend the rest of the night in a cell.”

  Tipping his hat to them, he said, “Good night.”

  Before Hamond could even respond, he was grabbed by several soldiers and forced through the streets of Yorktown. Both Matthew and Catherine could sense the eyes peaking through windows, trying to catch a glimpse of what was occurring. With the soldiers on either side of them nearly dragging them down the street, the Hamonds hung their heads in shame, trying their best to try to hide their faces. If they could prove their innocence, they did not want all of Yorktown to look upon them with disdain.

  As quickly as they could, the soldiers hurried the Hamonds to the jail and tossed them in a cell. Neither of them knew what to expect anymore. They had no idea what was happening. As they both huddled in the corner of the mildew-covered cell, they could not figure out what they had let slip.

  What had gone wrong?

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Oi, Clint. Wake up.”

  Much to Riggs’ annoyance, his navigator had not woken up from his uncomfortable nap on the deck. Just before dawn, Riggs sat down in front of him, trying to wake him. Drunk or not, Clint needed to do his job. The Captain tried snapped his fingers to wake Clint. He splashed water in his face. Neither of those seemed to work. Clint just kept snoring away.

  “What ye be tryin’ to do, Captain?” asked Ripper, who happened to be walking by the two.

  “Tryin’ to wake the sluggard. Care to have a shot at it?”

  The expression on the Jamaican’s face immediately turned to a devious smile. He did not even need to be coaxed. Ripper wound up and kicked Clint right in the gut. Groaning in pain, the waking man rushed to the rail to vomit.

  As Clint spewed over the side, the gunner said, “Consider dat retaliation.”

  Wiping the puke from his chin, Clint asked Riggs, “What in God’s name happened?”

  Just as Clint finished the question, Riggs saw his eyes bulge. As quickly as he could, he turned around to spew some more.

  “Seems like ye drank a little bit too much rum,” Riggs said, slapping his navigator on the back.

  “Whenever you’re done pukin’ yer guts out, go an’ relieve Eli at the wheel. Capische?”

  Clint nodded very slowly, his face turning a disgusting shade of green as he leaned over the rail once again. Now that that had been taken care of, Riggs could finally get some rest. He had been up most of the night at the wheel, even sending Julia down to the cabin to get some sleep. After she had left, he had begun to realize just how tired and cold he was.

  Habitually, he pulled his flask out of the recesses of his coat. Staring down at the small container of rum, he forced himself not to drink. If he wanted to sleep, he did not need the kick of alcohol keeping him awake. Walking into his cabin, he tossed his hat and coat onto the table. He did not even bother taking off his boots. The bed just looked too comfortable. Sitting down on the edge, he just let himself fall backwards.

  “Ow! How about some warning next time?”

  Julia pushed back the covers and looked down at Riggs, whose head was lying in her lap. She pushed her bedraggled hair out of her eyes, blinking a couple times to wake herself.

  “Give a man a break, love. I ain’t had any sleep yet. Ye can’t actually think I’d be focused,” he said, resting his eyelids.

  “Aw… is the ruthless pirate a little tired?” she teased.

  “Aye,” he said as she ran her hands over his forehead.

  He could feel himself drifting off, into a relaxing sleep. With Julia’s warm, massaging hands and the dim light of the cabin, it would have been extremely hard not to fall asleep. Gently brushing her hands through his hair, Julia started to softly sing a song to her lover, but Riggs was too exhausted to even pay attention. As hard as he tried, he just could not. The girl’s soothing voice soon faded to silence as darkness overcame the Captain.

  In his dream, Riggs stood alone, the darkness surrounding him completely. As he stepped, he heard the splash of water, but he could not see it. There was something close to him. He could feel it.

  He walked forward, slowly at first, unsure of what to do. There was nothing around him, and yet, it sounded like something was approaching. Whatever it was, it sounded large. Fearful of what was coming, Riggs started to hurry, his walk quickly changing to a run. Behind him, he heard the crashing of waves, but they were still not visible. Not daring to slow his pace, Riggs heard the creaking of a ship, cutting through the invisible waves. The sounds grew closer, almost to the point that Riggs could feel the splash of mist on his face.

  Just before he knew the ship was about to come crashing down on him, the image of the vessel appeared. Nearly every crack and space glowed with an eerie green light. Creatures that he thought were crewmembers stood on the deck, looking over the rail at their prey. Their eyes glowed white, bathing the Captain in their light.

  Riggs dove to the side, breaking through an invisible barrier and falling into the dark waters. He floundered for a couple seconds, bursting his head above the surface. A fog encircled his head, having just appeared as he had surfaced. The water around him barely moved, only tiny ripples tapping against his neck.

  Shaking the water from his hair, he noticed something strange. Everything was suddenly quiet. Looking back to the eerie ship, he saw that it had suddenly stopped moving. It sat motionless on the water, shrouded in fog.
The frightening crew had disappeared, their glowing eyes no longer peering down at him. Wiping the water out of his eyes, Riggs saw a rope hanging from the rail. Fueled by his own curiosity, he swam over to the side of the ship, grabbing on to the rope. Taking a deep breath, he checked his sword and started the climb up the side of the ship.

  Even in the dream, the Captain could see that the vessel was a warship. It looked heavily armed, but did not have a mark on it. It was in almost perfect condition for a ship. With each step, he watched the color of the ship change ever so slightly, almost like the colored scales of a fish.

  As he grabbed the rail to haul himself over, a hand snatched his wrist. Letting out a terrified yell, Riggs looked up into the blinding light emanating from the creature’s eyes. He could see nothing, save the outline of a face. For a reason unbeknownst to Riggs, it terrified him more than anything.

  It was too much for his consciousness to handle. He let go of the rail, his weight yanking him from the creature’s grasp. As he fell, he tried to see what it was, but the lights were still too bright.

  “Captain… Captain, wake up.”

  Riggs opened his eyes just before he hit the dark waters in his dream and right before Eli burst into the cabin in real life.

  Even though she was wearing a nightgown, Julia grabbed the blanket and frantically covered herself with it, asking, “Can you at least have the decency to knock, Eli?”

  Rolling his eyes, he replied, “Oh trust me… there’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  Turning to his captain, he continued, “One of the crewmembers spotted a ship. We’ve still got a ways to go, but I figured I’d let ye know now.”

  “Colors?”

  “Can’t rightly tell.”

  Rapidly shaking his head, Riggs put on his coat, took out the flask, and swallowed some rum. Much as he wanted it to be, it was not the time to be sleeping. If there was going to be a raid, he needed to at least be on deck.

  In seconds, he was fully awake, the energy flowing back to his limbs, courtesy of the rum. He stuck his hat on his head and made his way out of the cabin. A crewmate handed him a spyglass, and he immediately raised it to his eye.