BlackHeart's Treasure

By T. W'ski

Making friends of little old ladies isn’t always the wisest thing to do especially when they’re the great-great-great- granddaughter of BlackHeart, the pirate whose maps to where he buried his treasures had never been found. Never been found, that is until the Larkin family comes along.

Relive the times in stories told by Robert Louis Stevenson and portrayed by Walt Disney. Stories of adventurous people following an old map to where X indicates that something of value should be buried there. But don’t let Swifty Blackwater and his band of modem day cutthroats—Yello D’awg (the hooded man), Maggoot, Blind Pilot, Ruflus, Fred, Jimy, Eddy, Tall Ed, Chit, and Toothless Terry know you’ve joined the crew of BlackHeart’s brig, the SeaHound.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781648014147

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Old Harbour Inn, Old Harbour Bay

Jamaica 1765

The night outside the inn was unfit for man or beast. No one ventured far from shelter on a night like this. Skies that were as dark as the inside of a dead seaman’s shroud hovered low in the skies above and sent their cargoes crashing down upon the earth below. Even ducks and geese sought the shelter of a cozy stable.

Outside the Old Harbour Bay Inn heavy rain blown sideways by the howling wind beat down in torrents. With its windows shuttered against the howling storm, the heavily beamed and mortared walls of the inn provided a safe and comfortable haven for its human occupants.

The remnants of supper lay scattered about the dining room table as the inn’s overnight guests and its one resident border had abandoned the dining table for the comfort and warmth around the fire that blazed within its hearth.

A full stomach and several mugs of rum had turned the conversation from small talk of the surrounding area to the telling of long tales. The warmth of the fire seeped into the bones of those gathered while the warmth of the rum seeped into their heads, adding to the imagination lodged therein. Soon the wickedness of the storm outside that lashed not only the walls of the cliffs the inn was built upon, but the inn itself was forgotten.

As the evening grew in length the tales being told grew longer, and it became impossible to tell which stories were real or just figments of their tellers’ imagination. Not that it mattered to all those taking refuge from the storm, for every story was greeted with smiles and a nodding of heads.

More rum! More rum, lad. Ye wouldn’t want this old salt to die of thirst, would ye? Capt. James B. Boone asked in his overly loud sea voice.

Jamie, the object of the captain’s boisterous bellow, scurried out to get another mug of rum.

Top off all the other mugs in the room too, Mr. McShane, the innkeeper said. The captain be in a good mood, and he be a paying.

Captain Boone was the inn’s favorite boarder and was spared nothing. No request was too large or too trivial as far as Captain Boone was concerned, for it was rumored that he paid his debts with gold doubloons.

After taking a drink from his freshly filled mug, Captain Boone started into telling the other guests a story that Jamie had heard many times before.

"This night reminds me of the time we were workin’ the merchant lanes down ’round Barbados in the Windward Isles where we was. Old Blacky, our captain, was a smart one he was. He would have us lyin’ about lazy, like just waitin’ for ships comin’ from Jamaica or out of Trinidad. Well, we caught us two and loaded down they was with all kinds of treasure dat was meant to go to the palaces of rich folks in Europe. There was so much booty dat we filled the hold of our ship, the SeaHound. We even had to lash some of it onto the main deck under canvas. There were so much of it. We was celebratin’ our good fortune and headin’ for port when a storm a big ’un caught up to us shortly after night had settled in.

"It was pitch-black and rainin’ something wicked. The wind was blowin’ so fierce dat even with the weight of all dat treasure onboard and a minimum amount of sail set on the foremast we was makin’ good time. The sea was high and rollin’, and the wind was takin’ the tops off the waves and blowin’ dem waters so hard dat dey stung when it hit you. The old SeaHound was takin’ it like the old salt she was when her foremast snapped all a sudden like and fell over the starboard side, taking thirteen able bodies with it into the sea."

The captain stopped his storytelling, licked his lips, and took a drink of rum from his mug.

"Dat mast clung to the SeaHound, held to her by all dat riggin’. The SeaHound’s bow was being pulled into and under each wave dat came upon us. We would have gone under right there and then, but that the mast was hangin’ off to the starboard and turnin’ us in that direction. Dat made the port side of the bow higher, and the SeaHound would hit the waves with the high-sided port side first."

The captain made a motion with his hands to indicate the action of the SeaHound and took another pull from his mug.

She was listin’ so bad dat her hold begun to fill with water, and with the sea heavin’ us about, there was only one thing we could do. We had to cut the riggi’n away to stop dat mast from takin’ us all down for a visit with Davy Jones.

The captain stopped and hefted the heavy copper mug to his lips once more.

"Aye dat was a night dat one was. The captain was movin’ among the crew with a piece of dat riggin’ wound round his hand. He was a whippin’ the men into doin’ things they’d never would a done otherwise. After an exhaustin’ struggle, we finally got all dat riggin’ cut away, and before ye lads could blink dat there mast disappeared into the blackness of the storm.

"We survived dat storm, but when she had blown herself out, the old SeaHound was settin’ low in the water and wouldn’t respond proper like to the helm. With only one mast and half the riggin’ gone, the captain did the only thing he could. He steered as best he could for the closest spit of uninhabited land. Ya see Old Blacky didn’t want to be caught in the open by some man-o-war and not be able to make a run for it."

The captain picked up his mug and drained what was left of the rum inside.

Rum, lad! Bring more rum, he bellowed.

Here it is, Captain, Jamie answered, setting another tall copper mug on the sideboard next to the captain’s chair.

Captain Boone took a long slow drink from the mug, letting it wet his tongue and clear the cobwebs from his memory. He set the mug down with a heavy thump and continued his story.

"We come upon this island dat had the prettiest harbor you landlubbers ever seen. It was surrounded by high cliffs on all sides except at its far end. At dat end there was a white sandy beach where a man could get into the jungle dat took up mosta da island. Blacky gets the SeaHound in as close as he can to dat beach and sets most of the crew to getting a new mast cut, set, and rigged.

"The rest of the lads he has a haulin’ treasure onto the island. But just like the devil hisself, once Blacky has his treasure buried, he buries the last of dem boys dat did all the work a hidin’ it with it. He don’t want no one a findin’ it afore he gets back to it hisself.

"With our cargo gone and the SeaHound a whole lot lighter, as soon as dat new mast was set an rigged, we was off lookin’ for another merchantman to plunder. We sent many a good lad to the bottom of the sea and took a lot of booty from many an unsuspectin’ merchantman we did. Blacky, he was a hard man, but he had a keen nose for them merchantman and dat’s why the men sailed with him. We was one a da few dat never had to worry ’bout settin’ sail shorthanded. I always figured dat it was dat storm and havin’ to put in and bury all dat booty dat set the idea of doin’ it over and over again into Blacky’s head. As smart a captain that Blacky was, he never trusted the whereabouts of any a dem buried treasures to his own head. He always made hisself a map."

Chapter 2

Mayreau Island, Caribbean Sea

1900s

Iwonder where they came from, Robert Thornbird asked himself after spotting a lone jolly boat out on the open sea. Picking up his binoculars, he scanned the waters behind the jolly boat looking for a parent ship. Nothing. That’s strange.

Training his binoculars on the jolly boat, he could see that it contained eight men. It was headed for the island off the port side of his fishing seiner. Putting the binoculars down, Capt. Robert Thornbird pondered whether or not he should involve himself and find out where the jolly boat and the men had come from.

They could be in trouble and need assistance, he contemplated. There isn’t anything in this vicinity for miles. Picking up his binoculars, he scanned the waters toward where the jolly boat should be. It’s not there. Did it sink? he asked himself, shoving the throttle of his boat wide open and heading in the direction of where he had last seen the jolly boat.

Reaching the area, he swung his seiner in the direction he had seen it heading and cut back the throttle. He intently watched the water ahead for any sign of the missing jolly boat or its crew. Lifting his head to check his distance from the island, he discovered that he was a lot closer to it than he would have figured.

Sea air hallucination, he explained to himself. Through his binoculars he scanned the base of the cliffs on this side of the island, looking for a beach where the jolly boat could have landed. Something funny about those cliffs, he thought as he neared them. They don’t look right. Cutting his throttle back even more and slowing his seiner to a crawl, he approached the cliffs.

Well, I’ll be, he said out loud. There’s an opening in the cliffs. That’s where the jolly boat must have gone. No wonder I missed it. You can’t see the opening until you’re almost on top of it. Without hesitating, Captain Thornbird tossed the anchor and lowered his skiff. Priming the outboard, he pushed the start button. As the engine sputtered to life, he opened the throttle and headed for the opening.

Inside the cove Capt. Robert Thornbird slowed to a crawl and looked around. At the far end of the cove there was a small beach and pulled well up onto it was the jolly boat. Using his binoculars, he scoured the area for signs of the men but saw no one. Deciding to investigate further, he made his way across the cove and up onto the beach. Looking around, he saw tracks in the sand leading into the jungle like foliage. He followed them, curiosity having taken its hold over him.

Once inside the foliage that bordered the jungle on the islands interior, tracking the men that had landed there was easy as the men ahead of him were not trying to hide their presence on the island. As the jungle became darker, Captain Thornbird wondered if he shouldn’t turn around and head back to his boat. While trying to make up his mind, he stopped. Voices. I must be getting close to them, he thought and continued on cautiously.

He found the men in a clearing sitting around a campfire and drinking from a couple of bottles of rum that they were passing around among themselves. Staying in the deep shadows and concealed by the foliage, he watched and listened.

Tomorrow we’ll do a little scouting and get our bearing so to speak, the man that seemed to be the leader said. We’ll see if there’s any food to be had and a better place to set up camp.

Aren’t we gonna look for the treasure, Frenchie? asked one of the other men.

What good will that do us now that you went and sunk our way off this island, another man said.

That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, Terry, said yet another man.

Don’t be so hard on Terry, Ruflus. He was just curious. How was he supposed to know that the flare gun would start a fire we couldn’t put out, the man they called Frenchie said.

Ya, how was I to know, reiterated Terry.

It’s a good thing that your worthless hide may still be able to redeem itself or I’d of had the men throw you overboard for what you did, Frenchie said to Terry, drawing his finger across his throat.

Terry gulped and hung his head.

In the morning I’ll take a look at the maps we rescued and see if there is a way to get off this island, Frenchie said. In the meantime I’m hungry. What’s in the food sack?

Having heard the word treasure, Capt. Robert Thornbird sat back and contemplated his options. It was his lust for buried treasure that had originally brought him to the Caribbean. The mere mention of the word started his mind to whirl and his hands to shake. He needed a drink. Standing up, he moved out of the foliage and into the light of the campfire.

For a bottle of rum and a share in the treasure, I think I have the solution to your problem, he said, walking toward the campfire.

Who are you? asked Frenchie as his hand, along with those of each of his crew members, reached for the pistols in their belts.

My name is Capt. Robert Thornbird. I saw your jolly boat from my ship and followed you here thinking that you might be in trouble. I was right.

Frenchie looked Robert Thornbird in the eye as his mind schemed.

D’awg, give the captain a bottle, he finally said. And to Captain Thornbird, he said, Welcome aboard, Captain.

Without a map to guide them to the treasure, their search was a futile one. After two weeks of searching the island for a clue and with their supply of food and rum gone, the pirates decided to give up the search and return home to Jamaica.

I can take you as far as Barbados, Captain Thornbird told Frenchie and his men. From there you can catch one of the interisland schooners back to Jamaica.

Here I thought you had joined the crew permanent? replied Frenchie.

I have my fishing business in Barbados. I can’t just up and leave it. I offered to get you off this island for a share of the treasure, and since we didn’t find any treasure, you’re still getting a bargain.

We’ll be getting more than that, answered Frenchie, drawing his pistol and shooting Captain Thornbird point blank in the head. Time to go, lads, he said, sticking his pistol back into his belt.

We gonna bury the captain? asked D’awg.

No, D’awg, we ain’t gonna bury him. We’re gonna leave his bones to mark the spot so we’ll know where camp is when we come back, Frenchie told him.

What we gonna come back for? asked Terry.

To get the treasure, stupid, said Ruflus.

But we don’t know where it is, Terry added.

We will when we get us a map, and I know just the person to see about that, stated Frenchie. Let’s go.

Chapter 3

Old Harbour Bay, Jamaica

Present Day

The bus swerved barely avoiding a pair of tourists riding their bicycles.

Damned tourists, the bus driver cursed under his breath as the passengers that had grabbed for something to hold on to tried to resettle themselves with some dignity. While the passengers rearranged their belongings, the brightly painted red-yellow-green-and-blue-flowered interisland bus continued on its route.

See, we could’ve all gone for a bike ride and ended up splattered all over the roadway after being hit by some maniacal bus driver in a hurry to get nowhere, Tom Larkin said to his wife, Sue, and their children, Kelly and Jamie, who were seated beside and behind him on the bus.

I think we would’ve known to watch out for things like buses, Jamie replied.

Kelly, on the other hand, just looked at her dad and shook her head.

Really, honey, Sue added. We did have a good time today, but it was just that the kids and I had our hearts set on a quiet bicycle trip around Montego Bay. We had planned to visit a few shops, maybe stop and eat at a backstreet restaurant, and just relax. The hotel even gave me a list of restaurants they recommended as safe.

I know you would’ve liked to have gone on the bicycle ride, but this trip was only scheduled for today. It was our only chance to see Kingston. I promised you that if you’d come with me today I’d go on the bicycle outing with you tomorrow without complaining. I meant that, and I intend to keep my promise.

But, Dad, Jamie protested, "tomorrow is the day we’re going to take the Island Schooner to George Town on Grand Cayman Island, remember? We talked about it, and you said we’d spend a whole day there before flying home. You even said that you had made the reservation."

Jamie’s right, honey, no matter whether you promised or not, we won’t be going on that bicycle ride.

Suddenly, Tom jumped to his feet and ran as best he could to the front of the bus. Stop the bus. Driver, stop the bus, Tom shouted.

The driver reacted instantly. He slammed on the brakes, and the passengers were unexpectedly thrown into the back of the seat in front of them. Not expecting the driver to act so quickly, Tom was thrown off balance. Making a grab for the disembarking rail, he felt his fingers brush the rail, and with nothing to stop him, he fell down the entry stairwell, coming to stop in a contorted position with his head pressed up against the doors of the bus.

The bus came to a screeching halt, and when the driver automatically opened the doors, Tom slid the rest of the way down the stairwell and into the street. He quickly pulled himself to his feet, and without taking the time to brush himself off, he reentered the bus.

Sue, Kelly, Jamie, we’re getting off here. Come on! he shouted, motioning for them to follow him.

Stepping to the side so his family could disembark, Tom said to the driver, Thank you for stopping so quickly. Will there be another bus coming along this way soon?

The driver, bewildered at first, looked numbly at Tom. The realization of what had just happened finally seeped in; and looking somewhat angrily at Tom, while mumbling under his breath, he said, Two blocks up this road is the Captain Black Heart Inn. In about an hour the tourist bus from the Hotel D’Montego will be stopping there to allow its passengers time to eat dinner. If you’re lucky, they’ll have room on the bus and be able to take you back with them. If not, the inn is never full. You can spend the night there and catch the early morning island taxi.

Tom thanked him profusely, stepped off the bus, and joined his family on the side of the road. The doors to the bus closed; and the driver’s distinctive, Crazy damn tourists, drifted out from behind them.

Tom, what on earth are we doing standing here in the road? Sue asked, just as the bus’s engine noise and smoky exhaust consumed them.

Coughing and choking, they all moved a little further down the road while Tom tried to explain.

While Jamie was talking, I happened—

Dad, Jamie interrupted, did you hear what I said about tomorrow?

It can wait, son. I’m talking to your mother right now.

Mom?

Jamie, wait until we find out what your father has to say.

I was trying to tell you, Tom began again. I happened to be looking out the window of the bus and noticed a garage sale sign at a very interesting house up a side street. I can’t explain why, but something told me that we should investigate the sale.

This is about a garage sale? You almost got us and everyone else on the bus killed, crushed to death, because you thought we should investigate a garage sale. Dad, are you sure you’re playing with a full deck? Kelly asked in an overly excited voice.

That will be enough, young lady, Sue said. She turned to Tom. She’s right, Tom. You’ve pulled some stunts in the past because of your uncontrollable passion for garage sales, but this one takes the cake. We’re supposed to be on vacation, all of us, as a family. If you would’ve been paying attention to your son, as you should’ve been, you would’ve realized that we don’t have time for this, this whatever.

Give me some credit, honey, Tom said, trying to dodge the bullet. Didn’t you hear me talking to the bus driver? I have everything worked out. We’ll be back on schedule in a few hours. And, son, I hadn’t forgotten about the schooner trip. I just didn’t realize it was supposed to happen tomorrow. This vacation has gone by so fast that I’ve completely lost track of time, but we’re here now, so let’s go check out the garage sale. What do you say? Tom noticed the looks he was getting from the rest of his family. Trust me, I have everything worked out. He turned and started walking down the road.

Sue shrugged her shoulders and kept repeating to herself, I love him, I love him, then turned. She and the children followed after him.

This is the place, Tom said, arriving in front of the house with the garage sale sign.

It really is an interesting seaworthy-looking house, Sue said.

Look, everyone, what a wonderful view of the ocean, Kelly announced, pointing.

It’s the Caribbean Sea, dear, not the ocean, Sue corrected as the family started scouring through the miscellaneous items for sale.

Whoever is having this sale must have lived their entire life by the sea, Sue thought after looking through the items on the first table. It was then that she noticed a weathered, tanned, and very sea-hag-appearing old woman rounding the corner of the house. She was leaning heavily on a cane as she made her way toward the Larkins.

Welcome, my dears, she said, smiling, and when she smiled her appearance seemed to change. No longer did she look like an old sea hag but every bit like a wonderfully wise grandmother, the kind of person your heart immediately goes out too. When she spoke, her voice had a magical quality that drew you toward her. If you find anything that pleases your eye, I’ll be in my garden at the back of the house, she said. Turning around, she hobbled up to and through a weathered picketed gate at the side of the house and disappeared.

Jamie, having just decided that there was nothing in the sale items that he wanted, took one step toward joining his mother when he spotted it. It was a light-blue glass bottle that had a miniature two-masted, square-rigged sailing ship inside it. The bottle sat upon a hand-carved stand and was held to it by two strands of some sort of flat chord. On one side of the stand were the words SeaHound that had been carved into a bone plaque attached to it.

I’ve found something I like, he said. I’m going to go find out how much the old lady wants for it. Before anyone could answer him, he had disappeared through the gate and down the side of the house. When Jamie rounded the back corner of the house, he found himself wondering if he had fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole for there before him was the most amazing flower garden that he had ever seen.

The rest of the family finished their search for some wee bit of treasure but came up empty, even Tom who was always coming home with some piece of unusable junk. Jamie still hadn’t returned from his pricing foray, so they went in search of him. When they rounded the back corner of the house, they too stopped and stared in amazement at the sight that lay before them. Here on the top of a cliff that commanded a magnificent view of the Caribbean Sea surrounded by a white picket fence was the most amazing of flower gardens. Adding to their amazement was the sight of Jamie sitting on a bench in the middle of the garden talking with the old woman.

Tom, Sue, and Kelly were doubly impressed when they approached Jamie. He stood up and said, Mom, Dad, Kelly, this is Mrs. Boone. Mrs. Boone, this is my father, Tom; my mother, Sue; and my sister, Kelly.

So very glad to meet you all, Mrs. Boone said. Please come sit a spell. There’s another bench here, and I think we’ll all fit.

The three of them joined their son and brother. Sitting down, the sight and smell of the sea and garden engulfed them, putting them in a trance.

Would you all care for something cold to drink? Mrs. Boone asked, and before they could regain their senses and answer her, she had added, Of course, you would. Without hesitation she stood up and hobbled into the many-windowed back of the house.

Tom, Tom, Sue said, elbowing him gently in the ribs to get his attention. How much time can we spare before we have to catch up with the group from our hotel?

Tom, staring out at the Caribbean, was still in a trance and didn’t answer her.

Tom, Sue repeated louder and elbowed him harder, answer me.

Don’t worry, dear. We have plenty of time.

Sue rolled her eyes in her head and gave up.

Mrs. Boone came back carrying a silver tray with five tall glasses of iced tea on it. I hope you like licorice tea? she asked, passing the tray around and sitting back down.

Everyone was dying of thirst, and yet their eyes looked from one to another and finally settled on Jamie who was calmly drinking his tea. The sight of their son who had always hated tea iced or otherwise completely washed away their concerns.

The sun was starting to make its descent into the sea when Tom realized it was already late. He glanced at his watch and realized that they had probably missed their ride back to the hotel on the same hotel tour bus that had brought them to Kingston that morning.

In that same instant, as if some mysterious force were guiding her actions, Mrs. Boone asked, If I’m not out of line, may I ask where you’re spending the night?

Furtive glances came from Sue and Kelly and were directed straight at Tom.

Well, Tom said, we were going to catch up with our tour group when it stopped at the Black Heart Inn for dinner, but it seems that we’ve overdone your hospitality and have probably missed it. However, I’ve been told that the inn is never full and—

Nonsense. I’ve plenty of room right here in this big house. I seldom have a chance to entertain company, especially company as delightful as that of you and your family. So if you’ll follow me please, we’ll retire to the house. Jamie, would you be a kind lad and bring the glasses and the tray, please?

Yes, ma’am.

Mrs. Boone, Tom persisted, "we really should be staying at the Black Heart Inn. We need to get back to our hotel as soon as possible in the morning. I’ve been told that the island taxi will pick us up at the inn first thing in the morning and take us back to our hotel. It really wouldn’t be so necessary except that we have to connect with the Island Schooner for passage to Grand Cayman Island. We have our luggage to retrieve and a million small things to take care of."

Mr. Larkin, Tom, may I call you Tom? Jamie has already told me of your plans, and there will be plenty of time to get all that accomplished. There isn’t one thing that you need to concern yourself about. There’s no better place to rest your tired bones after a day spent sightseeing in Kingston than in a soft feather bed with the sound of the sea in your ears and the moon shining on you through your window. You won’t get that at the Black Heart Inn, I can assure you. As for the rest of your concerns, leave them to me. I’ll see to it that everything is taken care of. Come now, see the house. The words were barely out of her mouth when she turned and headed toward the house.

Jamie carried the tray of empty glasses, and the rest of his family followed the kindly old woman into her lair.

Once inside Mrs. Boone gave the Larkins a tour of the house, assigning them their bedrooms. Then she excused herself so she could start preparing dinner. Sue washed up and joined Mrs. Boone in the kitchen. It didn’t take long for the two women to have a hot steaming meal ready to eat and on