| | |  | They tell the tale that Jack Robinson left home to become a privateer when he was barely into his teens – he worked as ship’s boy to earn passage to Jamaica, where he got work on a privateer ship, once again as a cabin boy.
It was hard work for the youth, but not as hard as it could have been. Captain Eustace “Longarm” Richards was tough, but fair. The Dark Egret harried only ships that did not fly the Union Jack; he avoided unnecessary slaughter and reserved mayhem for the Spanish (who were yet at war with the English) and civilian craft were dealt with relative gentility.
This did not sit well with his First Mate, who had set his sights on greater riches (and not all of them in hard coin). Richards pushed aside his man’s assertions – such deprivations would mark them wolfsheads even to their own nation, given enough time.
The Captain was to soon disappear under mysterious circumstances one summer night… Captain Richards had possessed the fatal flaw of believing the best of his men and most of all, believing the best of his First Mate. It cannot be said that anyone ever again made that same mistake with “Black Death” McGee.
A year passed, and matters only worsened. Young Jack found himself less of a Cabin Boy than a valued aide to the handful of craftsman aboard the Dark Egret. He buried
himself in work in an attempt to avoid the darkness growing about him. He found himself better at avoiding the Captain's boot as well. McGee had a dark streak that found its daily bread and milk in petty sadism, but in a short time it had become even darker.
A letter from home had gotten McGee deep in his cups and he kept mostly to his cabin for weeks on end. The crew could hear oaths against heaven late at night from McGee's
quarters and wondered if the Dark Egret had been the last ship they should have signed on to.
When the first mate inquired what the matter was, all he received for his trouble was a
concussion. After that, no one dared ask the Captain any more questions. It was all nods, "Yes, Cap'n," and rushes to comply with the simplest of orders.
Jack wondered if the name of the Dark Egret would soon be synonymous with that of the Flying Dutchman...
Things did not improve much the following year. McGee's temperament did not better; his moods grew black and morose. The Dark Egret took on less real trade - the Captain had lost his taste for real work. He lacked the patience to be a businessman at all and the crew found themselves dabbling in more and more outright piracy.
This had suited the mores of some, but not all. Mutinous feelings had not gone further
than nervous murmuring - the crew had seen what the Captain had done to those who
questioned him publicly. The crew noticed that British warships pursued them on several
occasions. How could this be? Did not Captain McGee hold the same license of privateer that Richards had?
Depression became a palpable thing aboard ship – as had hate and fear… of the Captain. The crew lost themselves in grog and song. Even Mcgee saw no reason to curb the men’s
one outlet. Jack found himself learning the art of brewing from the bosun who’d learned the art from his father. Jack found that he had even more of a talent for brewing and
aging liquor than he did in downing it with abandon. Maybe if he survived McGee’s insanity and got off this ship of damned souls, he would find an outlet for it someday…
McGee had come close to preying on vessels flying the Union Jack, but had stopped at bullying those ships into supplementing the Egret's stores. Jack feared that it would only be a matter of time before the Captain crossed that line that divided privateer and pirate ... and when he did, McGee would be dragging the rest of him down with him.
What McGee did to the French galleon was the final straw for Jack and the crew in agreement with him. Any thought they had that the Captain might let the Frenchmen go
vanished when McGee set fire to its sail as grappling hooks were withdrawn.
The crew – at those of a like mind to Jack’s – had been at the verge of mutiny once before, but had managed to sway their bloody-minded captain that it was far more profitable to ransom the passengers on a Spanish frigate than to butcher them all. Jack had managed to stay his hand from his cutlass… as long as McGee only leered at the
women among the captives and did act upon the dark thoughts Jack knew where dancing behind those cruel, black eyes.
The lookout had sighted a ship on the horizon from the crow’s nest and McGee drove his men to a frenzy of activity; the bloodlust was upon him once more and Jack sensed there’d be no bargaining with the old devil this time. The Dark Egret laid a course directly in the wake of their prey – a Spanish manowar by the look of it, and still unaware of their danger by sunset.
The Captain ordered no lights on deck that night, aside from covered lanterns, and made clear his desire for relative silence. There was to be no snatches of drunken song carried on the night wind to alert their victims! He ordered Jack to give the men the rum they needed to entertain them in the meantime. Jack knew this was the moment he’d been waiting for.
He gave the lion’s share of the rum to McGee’s bullyboys and bravos; those loyal to Jack knew they’d be plenty of time to celebrate – after the current captain was deposed… and disposed of.
Morning broke, The Spanish sailors awoke to the cries of their lookout. A ship flying the skull-and-bones was fast upon their heels! The half-asleep, half-dressed men rushed
madly to their stations under the rapid fire orders of their Lieutenant, but they could see that fear was writ large on his face as well. If they could not outrun the pirate craft long enough to be able turn to bring their large guns to bear, it would not go well for them…
Jack and those likeminded waited until the Dark Egret was gaining on the Spanish galleon before they sprang their plan – the one time that their vicious captain did not
expect any treachery. McGee’s avarice was such that he could not fathom any man who would not scuttle any ambition when faced with the promise of immediate profit and easy kills! The first that he knew of what had befallen him was the sound of feet running in
formation behind him -- strategy was a stranger to the men under him -- accompanied by strangled cries cut short.
McGee turned to face a blade inches from his face, held by a smiling Jack Robinson. Behind Jack was an unsmiling assemblage of Jack’s fellow mutineers. They accounted
for three-fourths of the crew. McGee looked about to see what had befallen his most ardent supporters.
The few who felt any advantage to sailing under McGee had been cut down quickly or else had quickly changed their minds and lay prostate on the deck, weapons cast away. .
McGee was given the choice to leave the ship voluntarily or die. The last the crew of the Dark Egret saw of him was him standing in the dingy waving his fist defiantly as the
Spanish craft gained on him! The others named Jack captain and set furiously to changing the ship’s name on the hull – the reputation of the Dark Egret was too blackened to be
retained.
Cap’n Jack thought that would be the last he’d ever see of Black McGee… but he was wrong… several times wrong!
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