Isabella's Pirates: The Caradelli Legacy

By Marty Rightmyer

Ancient leather journals found in the library of the old jungle estate, lead Rosas and both of her Sister-in-laws back in time to Isabella Caradelli, a known Pirate of the 15th and 16th centurtes in the Medeterrian.
They learn of her experiences; strange family history and soon discover the presence of an ancient Pirate treasure trove that has been hidden for Centuries.
Following clues left in Isabellas ships logs and journals they discover more then treasure and set off for Greece to the ancient Villa of Vincent Caradelli, Isabella's father. Their searching leads then to yet another ancient family treasure they never knew existed.
Isabella takes them on a whirlwind adventure of a Lady Pirates life and through the old Royal Histories of France, England, Spain and the New Colonies of the America's. Another discovery these three found is of family members that were not known until they arrived in Greece to start their search for a legacy and treasure. Isabella is their ancient family and they learn no one messes with a Lady Pirate or her secrets as she rules on the seas.
Book 4 in the series of 7
Join me at martyrightmyerbooks.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504978378

Marty Rightmyer

Books have always interested me, so I wanted to see if what I put down on paper would interest someone. Growing up in rather strange circumstance in my life gave me the outlet I needed to tell stories that everyone would enjoy. After moving around the East Coast, I needed to settle down to a place where it was quiet and I could get down to putting the words on paper. I chose the Ozark Mountains in Missouri, where I live with a few goat, cats, chickens, and of course, the dog.

Book preview

ISABELLA’S PIRATES

The Caradelli Legacy

MARTY RIGHTMYER

Edited By

Alice Kaspar

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© 2016 Marty Rightmyer. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/09/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5049-7836-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-7837-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016902119

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Chapter 1

Other Books by Marty Rightmyer

I Did as I Was Told

Close the Door We live in a Barn

* The Menedacus Legacy *

Majorcan Sands

Green Karats

Cave of Warriors

* The Caradelli Legacy *

Isabella’s Pirates

Come visit at www.martyrightmyerbooks.com

PROLOGUE

Rosa sat alone in the library of her sister-in-law in Virginia, working on her genealogy charts, and searching for possible relatives who lived in the early sixteenth century. She was getting absolutely confused until Mod, an interactive computer system, suggested she pull down a certain journal from the hundreds of volumes recovered at an inherited estate in South America. Through fate, she had met the family and married into it. Little did she realize that the family hunt for a legacy of treasure would lead her to her own identity in their ancestral line.

This legacy hunt for treasure had been handed down through centuries of ancestors. At first nothing was known to her of this family until she met and fell in love with Rom Oblondie. Rom was a brother-in-law to Cleo. He had asked Rosa to help monitor Cleo and her pregnancy as his family dug for treasure. He was also a man born in her country of Greece, but raised in South America as a slave to his own family.

Through Rom and his brother Sebastian, she had finally found a family. She had married into it, but felt out of place since Cleo and Lisa could trace their roots, and she didn’t have a clue as to her own ancestry. She started to research her lineage to satisfy her own curiosity.

In her hand was the journal of a woman born in the mid 1500’s, and she knew it would quickly turn into another chapter of the legacy hunt as soon as she opened the pages.

Cleo, her new sister in law, hated anything that had to do with the legacy in this family. She had reasoned that she was not of the Menedacus blood and did not want to deal with any more hunts for artifacts or treasure.

As she read this journal, it soon became clear the author was not part of the family legacy. This was real treasure, hidden by pirates in ancient Greece. She knew in order to find anything about her ancestors, she had to learn of the life of Isabella Caradelli, known as Lady Isabella the Pirate.

Through Isabella’s journals and ships logs, Rosa found they were about to take a trip back in time and into wars between England, France, and Spain, as well as twisted mysteries of ancient times when Isabella sailed.

Their reading once again threw the three families into a search for lost treasures with a puzzle to solve along with discovering all of the amazing trouble Isabella managed to get into throughout the known world on both land and at sea.

Somewhere in this pirate’s life, the chain of DNA had to come down to Rosa. This was her personal mystery, and she wanted desperately to solve it.

CHAPTER 1

I sabella, you are too near to that fire. How many times must I tell you to move back? You will burn your feet one day from your own stupidity.

I heard the nagging voice again, with the same boring warning. For my entire seventeen years my feet were cold, and not once did I burn them as I warmed them by the fire pit. Did she honestly think I was stupid enough to burn my feet?

These stone floors are so cold, Mother. Why do we have to live in the caves anyway? We live like the rodents that run through them day in and day out.

This is our home, Isabella. It has been in our family for centuries. Count your blessings that you have a safe place to come each night.

I often wondered exactly what I was safe from. There was nothing around this barren land for as far as my eyes could see, except more people like us, goat and dirt farmers. There had to be more for me than this way of living.

There was a town in my memory, a large town with cobblestone roads. Fancy carriages pulled by high stepping horses passed by our stoop everyday. I had sat and watched them in wonder.

Beautifully dressed ladies with big feathered hats and lacy umbrellas stopped to say good day and pat my head. In those memories my mother was dressed to perfection in her fine silk and lacy dresses, and we both wore hats to keep our skin fair and white, and prevent the sun from burning it.

Men strolled beside their ladies with their arms tucked together in gentleness. I remembered, but my mother had no man to walk with her. Her man was at sea, she told me every time I asked about my father.

Your father is a bloody pirate, Isabella. Sometimes he forgets we even exist. One day he will return and expect us to be here, but he will be in for a very rude awakening. We won’t be here.

Grand Mere says my father is a sailor, not a pirate, Mother. She says pirates are bad, and my Papa is a good seaman who travels the world and takes things from one country to another country.

Well, your Grand Mere is right about that. He came to my home in Peta, promised me the world with adventure and riches so I would go with him, and then he took my family’s riches and me. It was two years before I got off of that old wooden thing he called a ship, only to be left with you at his mother’s home in Italy.

I always told you that one day I would pack us up and return to my home in Greece, where we can be happy.

Do you remember that promise I had always made to you, Isabella?

I did remember and each night as I stared up at the stars, I wondered which one my father’s ship sailed under. My mother called my thoughts wishful thinking, and maybe they were. She didn’t know that I, too, wanted to be on the water looking for adventure instead of walking behind goats all day and going nowhere as I aged.

My mother and I aren’t lonely; there are others who live in the rock walls of the caves, but I would call them a primitive people. They have no desire to do anything but work in their guarded gardens, dig new and bigger holes in the rocks, just to close them up with more rocks seasons later. That ordeal seemed to be a waste of time and energy to me.

My existence is for this book that Grand Mere gave me to write in. It was a gift when we left her in Italy.

You can read and write, Isabella. Your Papa said you must learn so you can write to him while he is sailing on the seas. There is plenty of paper, ink, and quills, so promise me you will write down all you see and do each day. Hide the book carefully, and keep it for your Papa to read one day.

My writing book was my salvation from deadly boredom and the only thing that was truly mine. In it I wrote all that went on in Peta, which wasn’t much. The town at the bottom of the mountain was small with only two trading places. One was a market and the other was for the stone trading and cutting. One old man sat patiently each day and cut the tiny stones into odd shapes with his tiny hammer and pick, and then he carefully examined them when they were finished. I learned as he told me of their new value.

Many times grubby men in shredded clothing and long face hair came to the town and went to the stone cutter’s shop. They were sailors, and it was during their visits that I saw my way out of the caves and to the sea. Each time they came I hid near by and listened to these sailors talk of the sea and countries they had come to know. Deep inside of my very being, I wanted to see these places and be part of the adventure they lived.

What are you reading that has you so engrossed? Lisa asked as she offered Rosa a piece of pie for the third time.

It’s a journal from the library. I’ve been bored to death while Rom is off in South America with Sebastian and Robert these last weeks.

What journal year did you pull down off of those shelves?

I don’t know. I didn’t just pull it down. I was in the library trying to put my ancestry together, when Mod booted up and suggested this volume for me. It’s late 1500’s to mid 1600’s, and I think it is pirates, Lisa. Pirates from Greece?

Apparently this particular pirate is from Italy or Greece; I’m not sure yet. It’s a journal of a woman named Isabella Balise Caradelli. Her father was a pirate according to her mother’s version of his life and a sailor by her grandmother’s version. I laughed.

She was born on a ship, raised as a child in a town in Italy, and then taken back to Peta, Greece. She ran away to the sea as a teenager.

Mod picked up on the word Peta in the files or maybe the Balise name. Do you think your ancestors were from there, Rosa?

My grandfather was and family before him, too, but I don’t know how where my lineage goes. I think I am the last of the genetic line. I don’t have a clue how or if this Isabella is related to me. If she is then I might have family in the world I am not aware of.

You just keep reading, at least you’ve found something to do. I’m bored silly, too. Cleo will be coming over later, so keep that old book out of her sight. She hates those legacy journals.

She does hate anything to do with the legacy, that’s for sure. I was hoping by reading some family history it will help me make a decision on my own old home in Patras. Rom and I have it rented out to his Uncle Romero right now, but he’s not going to last forever. Do you think we should sell the place or just do what the natives do, let it go and turn into another Greek ruin? I laughed.

Wow, that’s a hard decision you have to make. What does Rom say about it?

What any man would say when he doesn’t want to make a decision; it’s my old home and my choice. It’s frustrating.

I see your point, and it’ll make the perfect conversation tonight when Cleo gets here. I bet she can just map it all out logically and quickly for you.

Ah, I didn’t think of that. Excellent idea, Lisa. I’ll do that.

I flipped the book open again and started reading of Isabella. I wished she had dates on her entries.

If I ever hear another bell tinkling under a goat’s neck, it will be too soon, I thought as I drove my herd of fifteen stinking beasts up the rocky slope. Getting them up where the grass was really lush was extremely hard on my legs, but if I stopped for even a few minutes, the greedy things put their heads down to eat and refused to move again.

I hated the goat herd, the big rocks that fell randomly, and the dust that constantly choked me. Of course there was always the possibility of a wolf pack attacking, and that was always on my mind. About the only thing that I did like was the top of the rock mountain. I could look over all of the hills and watch the sea in the distance. On good days with clear skies there were ships, but they appears as only dots on the water from the view on my mountain.

Where were they going, and where did they come from? Everyday, those questions bombarded me. But today, I didn’t see a dot of a ship. Instead my attention was on a strange old man walking up the hill with his packed donkey. Out of sheer boredom I followed him carefully. He didn’t see me as I ran from boulder to bolder.

He didn’t go far, and I found the donkey eating scrub bushes just outside of an old cave. His packs were gone. This was an entrance to a cave that had been abandoned years before I was even born. No one ever came to this part of the mountain of rocks and dust. It was just too hard to climb all the way up here.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing in there. He wasn’t very long in the cave, and when he came out, he was empty handed. He got on the donkey and rode further into the hills.

I went into the cave and saw the candles on the floor by the rough rock wall. I lit a small fire with my flint stone and then lit a candle. In the glow of the tiny flame I saw baskets and old clay jars along the walls in the back of the cave and a few swords, but my attention was on a small leather bag in the middle of the floor. I picked it up, and the contents rattled when I shook it. Whatever was in the bag was mine now, I thought as I put out my fire and walked out slowly to find my goat herd and return home.

I opened the bag in the evening when no one was around and found cut stones of many colors, gold nuggets, and coins of gold. I was rich, and I realized I now had part of what I needed to leave this place and make my way to the sea. My wishes are about to come true, I wrote in my book.

Cleo, have you heard from Sebastian yet today?

Nope, but I heard from him yesterday. He and Robert are working on the books at our resort, and Rom is at the village being interpreter for the school project. You wanted all of the projects started quickly, so don’t complain about them not being here.

I’m not complaining. I just wish Robert would contact me as much as Sebastian does with you.

Then put your ear piece back in. Mod can let you listen in.

Rom talks to me all of the time like he was here in the room with me, Rosa said as she walked into the room. Today he had a few of the villagers help him take the artifacts out of a cave behind some waterfall and pack them. He’s bringing them back and said they go to the museum in New York.

Sebastian found a few new things, too, Rosa. Apparently, I didn’t check out the old study thoroughly when we went for our inventory after Lisa’s inheritance was done. I didn’t check the floor boards under a disgustingly dirty, moth eaten Persian rug.

We all started laughing. What did they find, Cleo?

He found a horde of your favorite period jewelry, Lisa. 1700’s to 1800’s. It’s all gaudy paste. Can you believe that?

With Gloria around back then, I sure can Cleo. She was a wicked thief, and I am personally glad she is dead.

All right Rosa, shall we hit her up now?

Hit who up and for what? If it’s legacy crap, forget it, Cleo snapped.

No legacy, Cleo. I have to make a decision about my house in Patras. It is my parent’s house. Shall I sell it or not sell it? Rosa asked quietly.

I can’t tell you what to do. It’s your place, Rosa, a family place probably handed down for hundreds of years just like Rom’s was. Just maintain it and give it to one of your kids when they grow up, for crying out loud!

I told you she’d make it simple, Rosa. I bet you never thought of that.

Problem solved then, Rosa laughed.

What’s going on with Isabella now? Lisa asked.

She’s found some gold nuggets and cut gems and now has the funds to leave and sail the seas, Rosa offered.

Whoa there, who is this Isabella? Cleo asked with a mouthful of pie.

Rosa put the journal on the table in front of me, and I backed away from it like it was a coiled snake ready to strike.

I think she is one of my ancestors, and she wasn’t a Menedacus. Somewhere along the line I may be a very distant cousin of André, your museum curator, Rosa laughed.

Oh, you lucky girl, Cleo stated in a sour tone.

I got bored and tried to do some genealogy on my name. Mod suggested this journal and it’s a great story except …

Except what? Cleo asked carefully.

Isabella Balise Caradelli had goats when she was growing up, and it was her job to walk them everyday to eat grass.

AND … Cleo said through her teeth.

She followed an old man on a donkey to a cave in Peta, found pirate plunder and took a little bag of cut stones.

No, you don’t. None of us can even think of more travels in Greece. We have about four months before all three of us have these babies.

Oh, chill Cleo. We aren’t going to look for artifacts. It’s a story in a journal, and I’m in for a good tale of a possible woman pirate. What do you say to just reading about Isabella together each night? It should keep us from getting bored stiff, and I think this story will make us look forward to each night as we read.

All right, but just as a story! At the first mention of legacy or treasure hunting, I’m gone.

An hour passed as Rosa got us caught up to where she was in the journal and then started to read aloud.

Today at the market place there came four sailors to see the village cutter, and I watched as they poured a bag of colorful stones in front of him. These were raw stones, and after he looked at all of them he took two and put them on his right side on a square of red wool fabric. Then he took four and put them on the left side on black wool. He sat straight and crossed his arms.

The sailors weren’t happy and yelled in a language I did not understand. Then another sailor put four more stones on the black wool, pointed to them, stood straight, and crossed his arms.

Our cutter took one of the new ones, the smallest, and put it on his red wool. They all grunted and nodded their heads in apparent agreement. I watched the cutter wrap them all up. The ones on the red wool, he put in a hidden pouch on his cloth belt. I knew I needed a belt like his to hide my stones, and I also knew I would take his.

Those sailors weren’t very far away when I saw a small boy join them. They were very happy to see him. I followed the group around the town and took particular interest in the boy as they all clambered onto a wagon and left. I was surprised to see the boy leave with them. I realized that I had to appear to be a boy to go with sailors. Boys clothing was next for me to find, and I also needed to chop off my long hair, I thought. I smiled.

It’s going to go down. Our Isabella will leave Peta. Cleo laughed.

She sounds like a strong girl to be able to walk out of those hills. I remember how rough that country is. Those mountains are killer, Lisa stated, In her travels, she has to go through Patras and Arta. Patras was a small hub to Corinth, remember? If she can get there, I bet those stones really help her get on her way.

It’s obvious to me, Cleo, that she found a stash in that cave. Those cave openings were initially carved into the sandstone and some are just elaborate doorways to a simple cave they called a house. Those caves looked impressive from the outside, but inside they were primitive. She had boredom, just as we do now, Rosa said.

As a seventeen year old, I’d say she has hormones kicking in. Go on, read her next entry.

These last few days have been busy for me as I took my few hidden belongings out each day to check them and then hid them again until I was ready to leave. My last trip into Peta got me all I needed. I found the cutter’s belt easily and left his stones wrapped in the red wool square in his tent. He would need his stones. He had a big family to care for. His son was my size so I took some of his britches off of the drying line and added them to my other clothes hidden in the hills. All I needed was a strong pair of sandals and food. I had taken a water skin from the house and filled it.

Our sandal maker questioned me about my new foot wear and wanted to know how I would pay for them. His idea was to ask for a personal favors, but I said no and handed him the smallest stone I had from the bag. He snatched it quickly from my hand and gave me a pair of sandals that fit perfectly and made me leave his hut quickly.

Tonight, I will tell my mother I am leaving. It is the last and hardest thing I have to do before I set off for the town of Arta. I have only been there twice when I was little, but there will be someone in that big town to guide me to the ships. I am sure of it.

Even after all of my collecting and planning, I didn’t know the future, but I knew anything was better then the caves and the dry, barren countryside.

My campfire is bright tonight, and I have no fear of being alone on this desolate hill as I wait for the sun to rise. So far there have been nine sunrises, and constant walking has greatly tired my body.

Now I know what my mother meant when she said I was stupid for walking off alone. I should have traveled with someone or a group of people. All that is really bothering me is the loneliness. I got angry, but only at myself. The wish for the sea pushed me onward.

Each day I thought that Arta would be over the next hill. The road that I’d followed had vanished three nights ago. I knew to keep walking downhill. Sooner or later I had to come to the shores of the sea, but it wasn’t that easily done. From the top of my mountain I could see the sea, but there were also smaller hills to cross that I neglected to plan for. The journey wasn’t working out as I expected.

Today all I can think of is the sea and getting into it to cool off. Each step is grueling, and I am afraid that if I don’t get there soon, I won’t get there at all.

Tonight as I sit and look at the stars, I see a glow on the next hill that could be the town of Arta, but I am too tired to walk anymore. All of my food is gone except a small chunk of cheese and a few swallows of water. I am also too tired to write, but I will not die.

In my dream I felt very rough hands under my arms and the smell of rotten fish hit my senses. Someone was trying to help me sit up, and I tried to focus on the face of a woman. Water spilled over my cracked lips and on my face as my eyes opened.

She is coming around Captain C.

I heard the crackly old voice from a distance in the fog that was in my head. Who was this person? Who was this Captain? I tried to stand, but my legs swayed under me, and everything around me moved up and down.

Tie her down Tefa. I don’t need that tender morsel falling off the ship until I get her to the auction block.

Aye, Captain.

Here drink more water, the old woman told me.

I’m on my way to Arta. Where am I now? How far is it to Arta? I managed to say through the ache in my throat.

Well, girlie, you are in luck. This ship is headed to Arta, but you are not going to like what is there, she laughed wickedly.

Here’s your satchel; Captain C went through it. He says he wants nothing in there. He likes your book, but me and Captain can’t read the language. What’s it say?

They are letters from my mother, directions to get to Arta, and on to Italy to my grandmother’s house, I told her shyly and felt for my belt. It was still there.

Captain C says to give the girly this water to clean up, then he wants her in the cabin. I heard someone say behind me.

Girlie, I asked, "What’s a girlie?’ Both of them started laughing and just walked away.

When I was alone, I washed up, put on my clean boy clothes. Tefa finally came back, took the rope off of my neck, and then pushed me into a strange room. It was then I realized I was on a ship. Through a small round window I could see land and water as we sailed along the coast. This was exciting, I thought … until the Captain slammed the door open and charged in. He was angry when he saw me and demanded to know where his succulent little girlie was.

I don’t know Captain. It’s just me here. I said in a low voice. I had to think fast. Shall I fix your sleeping pallet for you? I asked slowly with my eyes lowered to the floor.

Get out, he screamed, and send me Tefa.

I ran to where my things were, took them and hid behind a barrel, but no one looked for me. Eventually, the ship’s rocking put me to sleep.

Get up you lazy pile of bones. Captain’s screaming for you to bring his breakfast. Best go fast to fetch it, or he’ll tie you to that pole and use his whip on you, yelled the old woman Tefa.

Where is the food I am to get? I asked with quite the haughty attitude.

In the galley, you little fool. Now, get going.

I followed in the general direction she pointed, saw sailors walking with chunks of bread and cheese, and located the galley. There was a big tray ready for the Captain. It was shoved into my arms; I was turned around and pushed out the door.

The man had a feast on his tray, and I took some of the bread, cheese and meat and ate it quickly as I walked slowly to his cabin.

He wasn’t at the table; he was asleep on his bunk. I set the tray down on his desk and left.

On deck men clustered in small groups doing their work. Some had the chore of repairing sails; some were fixing nets, and some just scrubbing down the deck. Were they sailors or fishermen? I wondered as I watched them and the water. Land must be on the other side of the boat, I thought and turned to look. There was only more water. With shock, I realized I couldn’t jump overboard and swim to shore.

Here boy, what are ye looking at? Get that bucket o’ pig fat over here and swab down these ropes. The voice was rude and immediately set my temper off, but I picked up the bucket and just dropped it next to him. Some fat splashed on the deck.

You mangy rug rat, clean that up before I slip on it and break my neck, he screamed at me.

I got your pig fat, but I couldn’t find the swab. If you show me what it is, I’ll …

He grabbed my arm and pushed my hand into the bucket of smelly slime, then put it on the rope, and pushed my hand down the rough thing.

Swab means coat it down. Are you a simpleton or what?

Teach me, you big idiot, I’ve never been on a ship before, and if you yell at me one more time, I’ll empty this putrid fat on you head, I yelled back at him.

Everyone within hearing distance of us started to laugh, and when he finally stood up and put his hands on his hips, I bit my lip. The man was a giant with arms bigger then my whole body, but I couldn’t back down from him. I crossed my arms in front of me and tapped my foot on the deck. That quick, he grabbed at me, but as his fingers closed around my throat, I kicked him in the shin and bit his arm until he let go. I turned and ran only to hear him hit the deck. I turned just enough to see him flat on his back and out cold. Everyone clapped and laughed, but I wasn’t finished. There was that bucket of fat. I picked it up, slowly walked to him, and emptied the whole thing on his head and body, then turned to the rest of them.

Laugh all of you, but you remember this. Pick on me, and sooner or later, I’ll get you, too.

There was no where to go, so I sat next to the giant man, rubbed my hand on his slimy head and swabbed down the rope.

What are ye looking at? Get back to work before the Captain whips your hides on that pole. I yelled in the best sailor voice I could and pointed to the biggest mast. It worked. I watched as they shook their heads, but they went back to doing their work.

BOY, echoed around the deck. It was the Captain, and he was plenty mad as he stood over me and nudged the giant with his foot. Did you kill me first mate, boy?

Nope Captain, I just shut his flapper of a mouth, is all. Fair is fair. He messed me up with his pig fat, and I done him one better is all.

My captain roared with his belly laughing as he poured a bucket of water on the giant’s head. In seconds his first mate choked and struggled to jump up as if he was ready to fight. If looks could kill, I was dead.

A boy, a little tiny squeak of a boy, put you on your back and knocked you out? Again, he laughed and the giant grabbed for me, but I stepped away quickly and watched him slip all over the place. He looked like a flapping fish beached on the sand. Finally he gave up and just lay there looking at the sky.

Perhaps a few lashes would give you a reminder to beware of quick thinking little boys. You lost my old man of a cabin boy in those forsaken hills, and now you want to kill my new one. I think not! Twenty lashes, go to the mast, the captain yelled savagely.

No Captain C. Don’t whip this man. After all it was in fun, wasn’t it …? I don’t know your name. I said to the giant.

Just call me Luke, everyone else does.

We actually shook hands, if you want to call it that, and he pulled me to the floor with him.

Get up you two and get back to work, the Captain roared again as he walked toward his cabin. You, boy, come with me and get cleaned up. I’ll not have my cabin boy looking and smelling like a gutter snipe.

Captain, Luke didn’t let your other cabin boy man get killed. He rode the donkey away from a cave and left. I saw him.

The captain just grunted and went into his cabin.

Was he my father? I thought for the first time.

CHAPTER 2

L uke was sent to fetch me and start my education on how to be a cabin boy. Mostly he stressed that I was there to take care of the Captain and make sure his cabin was cleaned and his clothes in order. Another duty was to make sure his meals were brought to him before they got cold and to be at his beck and call all hours of the day and night. Somehow I had to find a place to sleep in the Captain’s quarters, too.

Luke, what kind of ship is this? I asked him as he showed me how to repair a battle net.

Hand me that rope next to you. Watch real close now. You learn quick boy, so remember to always keep your nets in repair. If we get into a squabble with the enemy, you’ll need them. This is a slaver ship, boy, and a pirate ship owned and commanded by Captain Vincent Caradelli.

Who are our foes, Luke?

Everyone that sails the seas, even the people that hire us to ship for them are enemies.

Now I was totally confused and picked up a net to repair as I watched him. It’s heavy, Luke. Maybe after I learn how to do this I can make one to fit me.

Make to fit you? He asked and laughed. They are all the same size boy.

Well, that’s stupid. How could someone use it properly if it is too big or too small, for that matter? Let me show you what I mean. Pick a small sailor and a really big one and have them give us a demonstration of how they use the nets.

Luke called for one of the crew who was small but strong and quick. They set a big barrel on the deck, and Luke told him to net it. I watched as he spread the net on his arm, spun his body and then let the net go. It fell on the barrel and then promptly fell down the front of it.

Why didn’t you cover that barrel? Luke yelled at him.

It was balky, wasn’t it? I addressed the man and picked up a net in the repair pile that was torn in half.

Try this one. I threw it to him. In one sweeping motion he spun again, and the net fell over the barrel and stayed covering it.

Now suppose the whole edge was weighted Luke. The force of the spin would sling the net faster, plus the weights tangles the opponent long enough to get an advantage.

By the time I finished my explanation there were a dozen men including Luke making their own personal net.

Now, may I offer a new rule? I asked shyly. "It