Chapter 1
It all started just after supper on the quietest of nights. Christopher Mokk, a sixteen-year-old boy living in the British colonies, was getting ready to turn in for the night when he noticed something out of the window. As soon as he had seen it, he yelled downstairs to his father. Only getting a muffled response, he bounded downstairs, taking the steps two at a time, barely keeping himself from somersaulting down the steps. “Father! Father! Come see outside!” His father, Norton, stopped him at the bottom of the wooden stairwell.
“I’m going to check it out. You go back to bed,” Chris’s father said firmly. Chris grumpily obeyed, but when his father left the room, he threw his head out the window yet again. Gazing out across the town, he was horrified. A dark silver flag gleamed above the bay, its reflective glare growing closer and closer above the smoke. Not long after, the deafening shot of a cannon from the approaching ship blasted through the night air. Chris stared in horror as the white X-mark plastered over the black fabric that flew in the sky high above the equally terrifying ship. He remembered the stories from those long, tiresome days in the dust-filled streets.
“You know it’s over when you can see the flag flying in the sky. Some call it the ‘silver X’, but its real name is Lucifer’s Cross.” At first, Chris didn’t believe the stories. But now, it was real. It was as real as his right hand. As the bow of this strange pirate ship came into view, there was a terrifying silence in the town. Even the goats heard the gravelly voice of the pirate Captain.
“GET THE CANNONS OUT BUT DON’T FIRE ’TILL I SAY THE WORD. ANY TOE OUT OF LINE AND I STUFF YOU IN THE OVEN AND THROW WHAT REMAINS TO THE TYPHOON.”
As he stood by his window, Chris could feel the tension building. It shivered in the air like a cold winter’s night. The stillness was almost palpable. Chris searched the darkness for any sign of movement.
Suddenly, “FIRE!” came the shout from the pirate ship. Chris could hear the yells as if they were right next to him. Gunfire, shrieks, swords clashing, and cackling filled the town as the pirates rushed onto the docks and into the worn dirt streets. But before Chris could even scream, he was knocked out cold by debris from a cannonball that landed nearby.
Chris’s father, Norton Mokk, had snuck onto the ship by swimming around the side and climbing up into a porthole. He ran through the halls, looking for the feared Captain. There was a dim light coming from the lamps, but most of the hall was dark. The sounds of battle seemed distant and yet so shockingly close to the point that Norton constantly looked over his shoulder, expecting to see someone pointing a gun at him. The hallway opened up into a larger room. It was lined with paintings, portraits of men each with a little golden plaque underneath, which Norton assumed to be their names. “This seems more like a mansion than a ship,” Norton thought. Norton, overcome with curiosity, bent down to look at the plaques. Most of the paintings were of battle-scarred Captains who previously led the ship. The second to last plaque read: ‘Captain Wolfgang Black, 1598-1655’. But he didn’t get the chance to read any others, for from a door to the side of him, came the sound of heavy footsteps. Not the speedy scampering footsteps of a fight, these footsteps seemed powerful against the wood floor. Even before the man came through the door, Norton could tell that this man had a slight limp and metal-soled boots. Just as he thought this, the door burst open and the man stepped out. In the lamplight, Norton could see that he had a black leather overcoat with jet-black hair. The man seemed to be about twenty years older than Norton was himself. The figure had scars on his face, and in addition to the overcoat, he had a black hat with a silver X on the crest. He was well-armed with a pistol and a cutlass. The man stepped forward menacingly.
“Well, well. Captain Norton Mokk. The end has come. My crew and I now know where you live. But that hardly matters; I shall slay you on this spot.” Norton started to get angry. The man’s name was Captain Jack Flame. Norton Mokk and Captain Flame had a bloody history together, and this would be the day to end it. Both men were equally determined to kill each other then and there. Captain Flame was feared across the oceans for his ruthlessness. Both men were silent. For a minute they looked each other in the eye with the deepest of hatred. But then, with no warning, Flame aimed a hard punch at Norton. He was knocked back with a cut cheek and a broken nose; Flame had rings on his hand which made the punches hurt more. The poor man was dazed against the wall, hiv vision going blurry and blood trickling down his cheek. Flame wrenched the cutlass out of Norton’s hand and stuck it through his stomach and into the wood wall. The last thing Mokk saw before his vision faded to dark was the painting of Captain Flame, the last painting on the wall, grinning maliciously at him. Captain Jack Flame, 1616-present.
Without a word, Flame walked up to the deck and yelled, “FIRE AT MOKK’S HOUSE AND LEAVE NOTHING BEHIND!”
When he woke up, he was lying in a bed. Standing gently over him was a blurred figure.
“It was all a dream!” Chris thought aloud.
“No.” Replied the figure. His vision wobbled as if he were about to fall back to sleep.
“Father?” No, it couldn’t be. That was a different voice. A Familiar voice . . . Suddenly, the figure came into view. It was Philip, his best friend!
“What happened?” Asked Chris.
“The pirates left, but not before destroying half the town,” came Philip’s gloomy voice. He looked at Chris with sunken eyes.
“What about my father!?” Chris bolted upright in the bed. Philip sighed a long sigh. “He’s dead. Killed by Captain Flame.” Chris felt like there was a weight in his stomach. “It couldn’t be,” he murmured. Phillip hung his head. “I know.” Chris ran to the window and threw up. It simply didn’t feel right. No, it felt straight wrong. All of the stories he had ever heard ended in a courageous victory where the hero returned home and told stories of his victories. Norton Mokk wasn’t going to tell Chris any stories anytime soon.
After a month of living with Phillip in the orphanage, Chris had gotten over the immediate grief. The boys were hanging around one of the chicken coops that got ruined by the battle. Chris, for the past few days, had been thinking about something, but he needed to tell Phillip.
“I think that we should avenge my father’s death. Do you know anyone with a boat? There’s gotta be someone down at the docks,” said Chris.
“We couldn’t do that! We’re just kids. Get some rest,” Phillip scoffed.
“No, I mean it. We could steal a small fishing vessel.” Phillip laughed. “The dust must be getting to your head. I do know one guy down at the docks who sells small boats, but we don’t have nearly enough money to buy any,” said Philip. Chris shook his head. “You know what, you’re right. The dust must be getting to my head. Why don’t we go down to where the armory used to be?” said Chris. So the two boys set off down the narrow streets, in a grim silence.
The armory was one of the buildings that had gotten destroyed by the cannons. Chris and Phillip stood in front of where it used to be, marveling at the ashy footprint.
“I can’t believe they would’ve done this!” Chris exclaimed. They stepped over a burnt piece of plaster that stuck up from the ground and used to be the wall.
“Those must be some powerful cannons,” murmured Chris. Suddenly, he fell through the thin ground and into the armory’s basement, and Phillip fell through half a second later.
“I didn’t know that the armory had a basement,” Chris said as soon as he regained his senses. Phillip stood up. The basement itself was larger than the building, but it was hard to tell how big it was exactly because there were doors on each wall, except for one which was just a stone face. There were lanterns strewn about, but none of them were lit. The light came from the holes that Chris and Phillip fell through. When the armory was still standing, there would have been wooden planks above the ground, but they had been burnt, leaving only about two inches of ground in some spots on the ceiling.
“Look at this,” he said. “There are water marks on the wall, but there’s no water. Wonder why that is?” Chris walked over and ran his hand along the stone wall. There were definitely water marks, but there was not a trace of wetness.
“They say that The Incinerator shoots fireballs instead of cannonballs…” Chris said. Phillip laughed.
“That’s a myth,” he said. Suddenly, a man moved out from behind a door. In the faint light, they could see that he was a weary and yet alert man. He had on a black cap and a ragged grey shirt and a cutlass sheathed at his belt. In his hand, half-cocked, was a pistol.
“It’s not,” he said in a deep voice.
“You-You’re not a p-pirate, are y-you?” Chris asked. The stranger laughed, and as he stepped into the light, his brown hair shone against his almost grey face.
“I just so happen to be,” he tipped up his hat. ”Will Harbor, notable pirate.” Phillip gripped Chris by the arm and tugged him lightly. “I understand that most people are unsettled after seeing a pirate,” he said, emphasizing the word ‘pirate’. “However, I believe that my intentions are similar to yours.” Chris shook his head in confusion.
“What do you mean, ‘same intentions as us’?” The stranger lowered his pistol slightly. “I overheard you two at the chicken coop,” he said softly.
“I wasn’t thinking right. I didn’t mean to say that. But how did you get in here before us if you overheard us at the coops?” Chris asked as Phillip tugged his arm in fear. “Listen,” hissed the pirate, stepping back into the shadows.
“Don’t worry about that. But Captain Flame spent years building up his- his army, and now he’s after all his old enemies. Do you know the top two people on his hit list? You and me.” Chris and Phillip stared in confusion. “Listen, there’s a lot of history behind Captain Flame, and he has a lot of enemies. But if you thought that he was gonna stop at your father, you were wrong. If you’re not going to come with me to avenge your father, at least come with me to save yourselves. That orphanage isn’t going to be able to help you if The Incinerator comes back for you.” Chris was shaking from fear.
“I’m not going to trust you,” he said as Phillip nodded hastily.
“Fine then,” said the pirate, turning around and starting down the hallway. “You’ll regret it the next time you see Lucifer’s Cross.” Chris and Phillip exchanged horrified glances.
“Wait!” cried Phillip. “We’ll come with you.” The pirate turned with a smile on his face.
“Great. We’ll need to steal a ship.”
When they got down to the docks they were met by a man who was collecting the docking fees.
Captain Will Harbor walked over to him and declared, “How much is that ship down yonder?” Then, he drew his sword very fast, and the terrified man fell over.
“HE’S A PIRATE!” Yelled the terrified man.
“I am a pirate.” Then, he jumped onto the small gangplank and shot the man in the head. The dock workers stared in awe as their comrade slumped onto the wooden dock and rolled into the water below. Before they even had time to call for help, Will, Chris, and Philip had hopped aboard a small fishing sloop and set sail.
The three fugitives were having a great time on their ship, The Crossfire, sailing the seas, raiding ships, getting into sword fights, and similar piratical acts. Philip was put as crow’s nest and Will was voted Captain. As they plundered merchant schooners, they gained a small crew and more gold. One of the most thrilling tales was when they got into a fight with some other pirates on the ship called the Ivory. What they did was amazing. They came up from the slanted back and up to the Captain’s quarters. They broke in through the windows to find a pleasant room.
“I’m going to my quarters. They’ve got to be here somewhere,” Came a voice from outside.
“Quick, hide!” Hissed Will. They all hid around the room, just in time. The Captain burst into the room and looked at his map for a few minutes. Finally, the Captain got up to order the crew. Will gave Chris and Philip the cue to leave the quarters. They snuck out and ducked under the quarterdeck stairs. Just then, a crewman was passing by. Will leaped in front of him and stabbed him. The three of them managed to sneak all the way up to the quarterdeck, and in a matter of seconds, Will was at the wheel. The crew cried out, and Will shouted
“Everybody, you must calm down. We are only going to blow up the ship.” Several people snorted, as this seemed simply inconceivable.
“At this, you may fall over with laughter, but beware!” Said Chris. Will snapped his fingers. He and the two boys backflipped overboard just in time for the entire ship to be blown to kingdom come. The only survivor apart from the three renegades was the Captain. All three, who had climbed aboard their sloop, pointed their pistols at the man, struggling, just his head above the surface of the freezing water.
“You’re under Captain Flame’s control, aren’t you?” He spat.
“Actually, we’re trying to get revenge on Flame.” Replied Will, cocking his pistol. The man’s eyes widened.
“You can’t win against Fame!” He said incredulously, struggling to stay afloat.
“So you would think,” Will said. Then, Phillip fired. The Captain stopped moving and sank to the depths of the ocean. Some sailors say you can still see him there, three-cornered hat and all.
