Blackbeard's Cutlass

Tick, tock, tick, tock ... the old grandfather clock in the hallway echoed through the lower level of the mansion.  Although his grandfather had retired for the evening, Billy Rathbone had not.  The warmth of the slowly dying embers kept him near the fireplace, and the haunting words of the tales his Grandfather had told filled his mind.

Samuel Rathbone was a collector, and he had more antiques than anyone could imagine.  One of them in particular, had caught Billy's eye.  The gold and leather case reflected warmly from the wall above the fireplace.  Could it really be Blackbeard's cutlass, as Grandpa told him?  Or was it just another flashy tale to mesmerize young and impressionable minds?  Whatever it was, it had caught Billy's eye.

Jarvis had gone to see to his employer's comfort, so Billy was left alone for a bit.  He sat for a time staring at the worn leather of the scabbard, then stood on the hearth, and reached up.  If he stood on tip-toe, he could just....

Thump, clatter....

"Hey!  Watch it!"  The voice had come from everywhere, yet from nowhere.

"Wha...?"  Billy dropped the sword.

Clatter, thump ... "Oof!"

"Who is there?"  Billy's eyes were round as saucers.

"Clumsy kid!"

Billy was spinning in circles, his eyes darting from corner to chair, to door, to the window ... "Where are you?"

"Right here, kid.  Ouch!  Stop stepping on me will ya?"

Billy looked down.  "The sword?"

"Cutlass, boy!  Cutlass!  Get the name right!"

"Okay, cutlass.  How can you talk?"

"Simple kid ... er ... I mean, simple, kid!  I have a story to tell.  Anything that has a story to tell can talk if you listen close enough.  Trouble is, most folks are so busy talkin', they don't have time nor patience to listen."

"Are you really Blackbeard's cutlass?"  Billy's eyes were still incredulous.

"No, boy, I'm Samuel Rathbone's cutlass."

Billy's face reflected his disappointment.

"But I was Blackbeard's cutlass once.  You see, cutlasses are owned by the one who holds them.  Blackbeard is long gone, now, so I belong to your grandfather."

"Wow!  You must have seen a lot of adventure.  I'd like to have lived in those days, and been a pirate...."

"Belay that yarn, matey.  They ain't no way you want to be a pirate!  Them was bloodthirsty days.  Why, I've seen the deck awash in blood so slick that men went overboard, because they couldn't keep a footing."

"Ewwww!"

"Yes, sir!  When I came out, sparklin' in the sunlight, you could be sure somebody was going to die ... and die horribly.  T'warn't no dancin' around and flashin' rapiers at each other, there was just lunge and hack, and cut men to pieces to be fed to the sharks.  Blackbeard knew how to kill, and he warn't no gentle poet.  He was a murderer and a thief."

"That's terrible!"

"Yes it is, boy.  I remember the day I changed owners.  I was taken by Lieutenant Maynard in a battle aboard the sloop H.M.S. Pearl.  And I'll tell ye lad, I wasn't given up easily.  Shall I tell ye the tale, or no?"

"Yes! Yes! Please do!"

"Well, Maynard had chased Blackbeard through the treacherous shallows off Ocracoke Island on November 22, 1718.  The Cap'n shouted taunts, and fired his guns in a running battle that took most of the day.  He never let on his fear, but it was a sweaty palm that hoisted me in his taunts.

"When they finally came alongside, Blackbeard swung aboard on a rope, and dropped to the deck to face Maynard.  Both men drew pistols, and fired at close range.  For some reason, Blackbeard missed, but Maynard's ball struck him in the body.  The giant man didn't even seem to notice.  Roaring curses, and spewing blood, he pulled me from the scabbard, and lifted me into the sunlight.  In the ensuing duel, Maynard's sword broke.

"Maynard dropped his sword, and drew a second pistol, and lifted it to aim.  I was raised, ready to strike off his head.

"With a swishing sound, a cutlass seemed to come from nowhere, cutting Blackbeard's throat.  Blackbeard staggered back, spouting curses, and streaming blood.  Maynard fired his pistol, and the ball caught Blackbeard in the chest. Still, the roaring giant did not fall.  Like a wounded elephant, he charged.

"Again and again the naval men fired at him and slashed at him.  Hit by no less than five pistol balls, and cut at least twenty times by cutlasses, he continued to roar defiance.  Finally, as he was attempting to draw another pistol from his belt, he sagged to his knees, and toppled to the deck, dead.

"I was taken from his cold hand, and presented to Maynard.  Since then I've changed hands many times, until the day I was sold to your grandfather, almost fifty years ago.  I've never told my tale to anyone until now.  Now my story is finished, Billy, and let me leave ye with this one bit o' advice:  There is no profit in piracy, only a death sentence."

The sword fell silent, and the dying embers in the fireplace popped.  A hand was shaking him.

"Master Billy, you should retire now, it is late," said Jarvis.

Dallas D'Angelo-Gary 97