Scarlet Minor and the Renegade

By K.E. Andam

In the small trade port of Buccaneer Bay lives a young boy named Scarlet where he and his parents own a small inn known as the Nook. Scarlets childhood is a happy one filled with dreams of one day becoming a seafarer like his great-grandfather. On the eve of his seventeenth birthday, a ghost ship visits the bay in search of a strange old man who had lived at the Nook for as long as Scarlet could remember. Because of his mysterious past, the old man had been hunted down by a dangerous and treacherous band of seafarers called the Pirates of the North Atlantic Curse. Their vessel, known as The Renegade, would bring a curse to the shores of this peaceful town, changing the course of young Scarlets life.

Thus begins The Scarlet Minor Chronicles; a story of adventure, true love, greed and corruption spanning five volumes:

Scarlet Minor and the Renegade
Scarlet Minor and the Twin Pikes of Nebo
Scarlet Minor and the Crossed Blades Skull
Scarlet Minor and the Last Atlantic Fleet
Scarlet Minor and the Isles of Black Gold

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504911788

K.E. Andam

Kenny Andam (born Kenneth Ekow Andam on January 8, 1976) is the author of Scarlet Minor and the Renegade, the first in a series of books called The Scarlet Minor Chronicles. Kenny was born in Takoradi, on the West African coast in the country of Ghana. Before deciding to write his first novel, Kenny represented Ghana in track and field during his formative years as an athlete. He has always been a dedicated reader and a writing enthusiast with a strong desire to someday become a published author. Mr. Andam is also an inventor and avid entrepreneur. He has innovated technology in the field of web video, interactive communication and mobile computing. Kenny attended Brigham Young University and competed on the track team for his alma matter. After graduating, Mr. Andam competed on the track and field circuit and represented his country Ghana in two world championships and also in the 2000 Sydney Olympic Games in Australia. Kenny lives in the United State of America with his family. For more information or to provide feedback, visit kennethandam.com for his work of authorship or kennyandam.com for his entrepreneurial endeavors.

Book preview

Chapter One

THE SCROLLS

OF BODIAKA

I still remember the night the Renegade docked at Buccaneers Bay as if it were yesterday. I was turning seventeen years old, full of life, and living in an era of dreams and myths. The Seafarers Nook was my father’s inn at the Bay. His family had managed the Inn for generations. My great grandfather – my mother’s grandfather – had settled at the Bay after journeying the oceans as a trade captain and, in his later years, as a pirate.

The inn had passed down to my father, and I was destined to be the innkeeper upon my father’s passing. He and my mother had built the place into the Bay’s most famous lodging for visitors to our little town of Tinsiltin Bay. The Bay had been the stomping ground and trading port of pirates and drunks before I was born, and had earned the name Buccaneers Bay because of the famous and notorious pirates that visited the Bay’s docks yearly.

The Inn, or The Nook, as it was popularly known to traders and pirates, was the home of the rugged and misfits of Buccaneers Bay. The local Scroller (our town newspaper) published stories with titles like The House of the Rugged Bunch because of the sort of guests who lodged with us. Pirate tales and fantasies of buried treasure were always the late-night talk of old seafarers and traders who visited our parlor for my mother’s famous lobster stew and baked ham.

My great grandfather’s legacy also helped to provide pirates and traders a reason to lodge at The Nook. His quest for gold and silver in many lands afar led him into battles and conquests that brought him valor and credence among seafarers across the great oceans. He was popularly known by them as the Lone Pirate of Buccaneers Bay. Great Grandfather’s battles against the slave fleets of the British Empire made him a legend. They set forth the mutinies and disbandment of sailors in the British naval brigade.

According to the tales, my great grandfather was the only pirate who fought and survived the Battle of Nebo and conquered the Monarch’s Ghost Face Warriors as Captain of the Admiral Bonior. He was admired by many merchants and pirates alike, and was looked upon as a true hero among thieves. Great grandfather was my idol and childhood hero. I was told by my father that when the old man was dying, he gave five scrolls of his journey’s writings to my father to be given to me on my seventeenth birthday.

The five scrolls contained detailed descriptions of the journeys and conquests of my ancestral hero and his shipmates across the many oceans and lands they traveled during his days as a seafarer. When I was a small boy, my father read stories from the scrolls late every night that the Inn had few guests. He promised me one chilly evening during our reading session that he would give me the scrolls as directed by my great grandfather before his death. I was eager for the date when I would receive the scrolls that my great grandfather had left me, and I was excited to finally have the time to lay them out carefully on our old library table and read through them to learn more about his journeys.

As my seventeenth birthday loomed, I could scarcely wait to receive the scrolls. My stomach churned with excitement. Soon I would be in possession of all the heart-stirring words of my great grandfather’s exciting voyages.

Two nights before my birthday, the Renegade docked at the Bay. This would change everything, and my journey as the Chosen One would commence.

My name is Scarlet Rosendale, and these are my life’s-end writings of my adventures as the Captain of the Renegade, including the voyages that led me to the Isle of Black Gold and earned me the revered name of The Chosen One.

I was born of goodly parents who taught me the pitfalls and evils of piracy and slavery. My father and mother always kept a watchful eye over my comings and goings, and provided me with all that a young man would need for a happy life. I was raised well. I grew up learning the mannerisms of the British Empire’s elite and was taught to speak properly. With the exception of a few mishaps, I would have sworn I had a perfect childhood and meaningful teenage experiences. That is, until the Renegade showed up at Buccaneers Bay.

In my younger years I lived a respectable life but was intrigued by the tales told about my great grandfather’s pirating days on the Atlantic. I would speak to my father about our family history and ask him to tell me more stories from the famous scrolls that detailed my great grandfather’s travels. At first, my father found it amusing to see his young son so interested in pirates and seafarers. Settled in the overstuffed chair in our parlor with me sitting at his feet as a fire blazed in the hearth, he would start over a chapter to see how quickly my eyes would light up with each battle oration that he read.

I had grown to love the tales so much that I was obsessed with learning more about the voyages and conquests chronicled in my great grandfather’s scrolls. I upset my father with the frequency with which I requested that he read me a story. My interest in the life of the rugged and misfits of society would always end up drawing a disapproving scold from my father for admiring such lifestyles. I knew that the life of a pirate was full of danger, and most often ended with death or banishment from society, but my curiosity still grew stronger and stronger with each story I heard.

As the years passed, I was growing into a young man looking for a place in society to explore my future, and nothing was going to stop me from going after my dreams of one day becoming a seafarer. I could never see my father agreeing for me to go on a voyage, so I began asking the sailors that frequented our inn about how to get a timestamp to become a seafarer. My plan was to sign up as a shipmate on any vessel that was seeking crew members for a voyage across the seas. My ambition was to join a merchant ship when I was old enough to become independent from my folks. I knew that the days were not far off when I would become a seafarer, so I kept my plans hidden from my father and mother.

My father had always been a man who was proud of his work as the innkeeper, and my mother was content with her life in sharing his occupation. She cooked hearty meals for the guests who visited The Nook for dinner, and she cleaned the cabins to keep them ready for our lodgers. My parents took pride in their work and provided our guests with excellent services, which made the Inn a delightful lodging place for visitors to the Bay. Our guests showed great admiration for Mother’s exemplary meals and tidy rooms, and many a time told their friends and other seafarers about The Nook, thus getting the inn repeat business. Father was so focused on helping our guests that he paid no attention to the stories that were told of voyages and conquests on the oceans. His life was devoted to the practical concerns of everyday living, while I preferred to dwell on the daydreams of possibilities on the open sea.

My interests and ambitions were different from my father’s. He wanted me to succeed him at the inn upon his passing, so he took time to talk to me about the succession and hierarchy of The Nook. He advised me to learn all that he knew so that someday I could take his place as the innkeeper.

But I could never see myself running The Nook, although I always listened to my father selling me his dreams and what he felt was best for me. I was his apprentice in training. His talks went loudly in one ear and faded in a whisper out the other, but made no impact on my ambitions to sail the Atlantic someday. I was far more interested in pirates, treasures, and slavery on the oceans, and had no interest in becoming the innkeeper at The Nook.

The day I received the Scrolls of Bodiaka was the day I became enlightened by my father about who I was born to be, and why my great grandfather had directed my father to give me the five scrolls on my seventeenth birthday.

It was like any regular day, with the bright morning sun rising and the sparrows chirping while the cock crowed to announce an early call for a busy workday to begin. Father woke me up by silently walking into my room, and then singing a melodic happy birthday in my ears. I was startled by his deep voice, but soon realized that it was my father’s way of commemorating a special milestone in my life. I instantly knew that I was going to have a wonderful day, because this was the first birth year that my father had come into my room to sing for me. I was now seventeen, after all the years of waiting, and I could finally be looked upon by my folks as a young man and not a boy.

The mysteries of the day began with the final notes of my father’s happy birthday song to me. He sat down on the side of my bed and looked steadily into my eyes for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. Even though I wasn’t fully awake, I could hear a sense of discomfort in his voice as he started explaining the scrolls and why it was important for me to listen to him before taking possession of them.

My father began narrating the story of how the scrolls came to be and why my great grandfather wanted me to have them. Great grandpa had started documenting his voyages after an encounter on the oceans of the Atlantic at the mouth of the Gibraltar Bowl when he was Captain of a merchant ship that had been commissioned by the British Crown and named the Admiral Bonior. The encounter would change his views about the masters he served diligently. It turned him into a warrior and fighter against their fleets, and a protector of the innocent and the vulnerable sailors and sea traders of the Atlantic.

The British Crown had mounted a strategic fleet of the Monarch’s best naval brigade to fight the pirates that preyed upon the Empire’s trade routes. The vigilantes, who many called the Ghost Face Warriors, were known among pirates to be a gang of notorious fighters who sailed the oceans to spark disbandment and hangings of any crew who had any semblance of piracy. Most often, innocent vessels crossing the Atlantic Ocean to the Americas would be caught in the middle of battles between the warriors and pirate ships, and many innocent lives fell to the blades of the fighters.

To many seafarers and traders, the Warriors were a well-organized fighting crew of heartless sailors who enjoyed killing innocent seafarers. They used the cover of the British Crown to loot and rape the oceans with no accountability. They were such ruthless fighters that many vessels would surrender their goods and slaves without a fight, even when there was no indication of any acts of piracy. Captains feared for their crew and seafarers feared for their lives because of this notorious band. Many believed that the Warriors were touched by the Mighty Hand of Betusa, which hence made them immune to the grips of Death itself. Tales of their ghostly-looking vessel were described at many gatherings whenever a new ship docked at Buccaneers Bay that had witnessed a burnt pirate ship or trade ship attacked by the Ghost Face Warriors.

According to my father, my great grandfather had encountered such destructive conquests along his journey in a midsummer month, and he vowed to avenge the deaths of the ship’s crew and its slaves. He began documenting his voyages to keep records of all encounters so that he would estimate the calendar framework within which the warriors would strike at their targets on the Atlantic rim.

It was an early dawn hour in the month of June that my great grandfather had his first experience with a vessel that had been destroyed by the Ghost Face Warriors.

Chapter Two

NIGATA BIDA

GOLDA

F rom my great grandfather’s account of the story that was handed down to my father, his ship was meandering its way across the mouth of the Gibraltar Bowl when the lookout, Tiny Tuck, spotted a smoke trail in the distance along the path of the Admiral Bonior that resembled the burning of a vessel. Even though the tiny flames of burning planks were gradually dying down, smoke from the burned ruins of the vessel had created a massive smoky cloud that was visible for miles.

After many long nights at sea, Tiny wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him and creating mirage images. He decided to wait until the Admiral was a few miles closer to ascertain the vessel’s reality before signaling the lower deck’s mate to inform the Captain what was ahead.

Moments later the smoke appeared even more real. Smoke screen from a battered vessel, mate, shouted Tiny to Mongusta, the deck boy. Immediately Mongusta sped off to the Captain’s cabin to deliver the message.

Captain, there is smoke ahead from a dead boat, Mongusta spoke to my great grandfather in a timid voice, and then quickly darted out of the cabin to regain his lookout post.

Captain Eyesinwealth had just retired to his bed for a peaceful night’s sleep after battling the waves of the Gibraltar Bowl when Mongusta delivered the message. He rolled over to the side railing of the cot and got up to take a peek at what Tiny had discovered. He took out his eyestar and walked toward the front window of his cabin, opening it with a slight push to get a clearer view of the burning vessel. He stared for awhile and saw the smoke of the flaming planks floating in the waters, surrounded by a misty, smoky fog that made it difficult to get a full view of the wrecked ship. He moved the eyestar to see the mast of the damaged ship, being tossed amidst the waves and winds that had taken control of its movements, to see if he could identify the type of ship it was.

At first, the vessel looked like it had been caught in a storm and had been badly shattered by the heavy winds and waves crashing on its weakly-joined frame. After focusing the eyestar for a closer look at the boat, he decided it best to take a crew aboard to get a first-hand look at what had caused the wreck. The Captain quickly summoned several hands to board the vessel. Within a mile of closing up on the burning debris, the Admiral was brought to a halt and the summoned crew prepared to go overboard.

The Captain again took out his eyestar to view the flag the ship was flying to determine whether it was a trade ship or a pirate vessel. Focusing his eyestar on the flag hoisted above the mid-mast, he saw the rich-looking gold fabric of a flag blowing in the wind. On it was the engraved image of a skull with two crossed blades at the bottom, and the words "Nigata Bida Golda (Negros from the Isle of Black Gold") finely printed below the handles of the crossed blades. He knew instantly that his worst fears were real: the Ghost Face Warriors had struck again.

Captain Eyesinwealth and a crew of fifteen sailors manned two small boats that were lowered into the choppy sea to row their way to the burning boat in hope of rescuing any survivors they could find. As they approached the wreck, they began to spot dead bodies floating in the bloody water all around them, and the smell of burnt human flesh sent up a pungent odor that caused some of the crew to gag and vomit. The Captain started to feel nauseated and his stomach churned because of the smell. Even though the sight was unbearable, the Admiral’s crew pressed forward in the dim light of the flame-lit waves, calling out to any survivors from the wreck.

The ocean was beginning to get rough, and the winds grew cold and misty, making it difficult for the crew to clearly view the vessel as they made their way toward it. Their lanterns gave only ten feet of vision, which made navigating the small boats through the debris very difficult. After whistling and making noise with their hand bangles to attract survivors without getting any response, the Captain urged the crew to row faster toward the wrecked ship.

His hope was to rescue any crew on board and get them back to the Admiral to nurse them back to good health so he and his crew could learn more about the wreckage and how the Ghost Face Warriors had destroyed their ship. The men hurriedly boarded the Nigata Bida Golda.

Come aboard, Cap’n, the upper deck is safe, a sailor called after climbing on deck and scouting the main area.

Boldly, Captain Eyesinwealth boarded the main stead of the ship’s deck to take a firsthand look at the carnage that had occurred. As he walked the length of the deck pondering what might have happened, his eyes caught the movement of a young girl lying prone and twitching on the steps leading to the lower deck.

There is a survivor, he shouted to the other crewmen. Tiny - bring water to the young lass.

Tiny raced to the side of the Captain to assist, and helped him lift the slender young girl to the upper deck where the rest of their crew members stood watching. The Captain sprinkled several drops of fresh water from Tiny’s bugle-like pouch onto the young girl’s face, and lifted her head up with his left hand to hold it steady for her to breathe some fresh air into her lungs.

Go and fetch the Doc. She has but little time to live, shouted the Captain to a bystander whose mouth was agape.

The young sailor dashed off to fetch the doctor who was just climbing aboard, and returned, racing down the deck with Dr. Angustine following suit. The doctor rushed immediately to the Captain’s side and began to examine the young girl to see if she had a pulse. After checking the blood vessels on her wrist, he took over the effort of reviving the young girl from the Captain. After administering a quick resuscitation of the lungs with little response, he followed that with a mouth-to-mouth breath to get air into the dying lass’s body.

After several attempts to revive her had failed, he took out a piecer and effortlessly plunged it into the girl’s heart. A slight stream of blood spurted from her chest, and a burp of slimy fluid streamed from her mouth. She began to groan in pain as she opened her eyes to see the faces of the men standing around her. The crew were staring at her slender frame, and some had heads bowed, praying for her to live. There was a big sigh of relief from the watching crewmen when she took a deep breath of fresh air. Frightened of the men hovering and staring down on her, the girl tried to turn away from their gaze, but the pain in her back made her flinch.

Dr. Angustine took her left hand and rubbed it gently to give her assurance that the crew was there to help and not harm her. She tried to speak, but her slow and faltering words were not recognized by the doctor, the Captain, or any of the ship’s mates. The words "Maritusa Ngus Mardi Menkana (The Map to the Isles of Black Gold") trickled from her lips, and she struggled to point to her back as she groaned. Suddenly her eyes rolled back in her head, and her breathing gradually grew slower…and…slower…and slower.

Her eyes opened one last time, and she pointed to the stair leading to the lower deck to try and tell the doctor something. Before Dr. Angustine could offer any further medical assistance to keep her alive, her frail body went limp, and her head fell backwards on her lifeless limbs. She was dead, and the crew of the Admiral still had no answers as to why the vessel had been attacked, and by whom.

As the commander of the crew, the Captain called on Quartermaster Shriknoot to lead a gang of five to the lower deck to see what was there and why the young lass had pointed her thin fingers in that direction.

Turn her over, the Captain said to Dr. Angustine when the rest of the crewmen left to search the vessel for survivors. What was she trying to show us on her back?

Gingerly, the doctor eased the girl onto her stomach. Using the sharp blade of his knife, he cut the sheep cloak to bring to view her bare back.

The Captain took the lantern that had been placed next to the body to get a brighter view of the girl’s bare skin.

That’s an unusual symbol, he said to the doctor, indicating a design that had been strategically burned into the skin with several distinct images that were merged to create a map. It appeared to be a map to the peak of a mountain that was embedded inside a pyramid made up of gold bars and surrounded by a ring of fire with the words "Golda Stool De Nebo" written across the rim of the burning ring of fire. The doctor nodded as he studied the puzzling design.

"We must keep this discovery secret from the rest of the crew; else greed could lead the men to revolt." The two made a pact to keep their findings a secret and take the body of the lass to the Admiral Bonior to study the map in greater detail. Dr. Angustine quickly examined the rest of the girl’s body and found wrapped around her waist a pouch of sheepskin that had been made into a belt with five hollow secret chambers.

You’d better have this for safekeeping. The Doctor took the belt from the dead body and gave it to the Captain, and then quickly wrapped the body in the cloak that the girl had been wearing to prepare her for transportation in the waiting boats.

A few minutes after the five crewmen went below deck, Shriknoot shouted out to the Captain above, Dead Ghost Face Warrior below deck, Cap! It is human, Cap. The devil’s mask is off its face, he bellowed.

Everyone rushed to the lower deck to take a look at the dead warrior, even though many feared to glimpse his features. The crew was startled to see the gruesome-looking figure of a man lying in a pool of blood with heavy beams of wood lying on top of him. His mask was halfway off his face, and blood from his neck had dripped to the side of the floor, creating a dark red stream that looked like spilled red wine from a broken glass.

The crew went to work immediately to remove the beams from the dead body and expose it to full view for all to see. The Captain removed the broken half of the face mask to take a closer look at the rugged-looking face of the dead man. After all the stories and the tales that had been told many times about the Monarch’s Warriors and their immortal strength, here lay one of the most feared myths of the oceans, lifeless.

In the past, everyone felt that the Ghost Face Warriors were untouchable immortals, and that even the grip of death couldn’t take their lives from them. They were looked upon as the soul seekers who could transform humans into anything they desired. Those beliefs began to dissipate among the crewmen of the Admiral Bonior. The Ghost Face Warriors were, after all, mere mortals who could die in battle, like every other sailor or pirate.

The Captain immediately ordered his men to take the bodies of the warrior and the young lass to the waiting boats. Then they were to