Here's a story I wrote for William last year, when he turned six. Again, the idea here is to cast your children as the heroes in stories, teaching them what goodness, nobility, courage, and so on, really look like. Love to hear any comments or thoughts on this or the other postings this week.
The Key, The Captain, and The Corsair
William Chad Newsom
Written for my son, William Alfred Alexander Newsom,
on the Occasion of His Sixth Birthday
This is a story that happened when our hero, William, was eight years old. William and his family had taken their vacation that year in the tiny port-town of Trelawney on the North Carolina Coast. Along with the usual beach activities, they were set to visit the Old Pirate Ship, which had been turned into a museum many years before. So William and his parents, his brother and two sisters, along with a camera or two, headed off that Friday morning to visit the Ship.
The Ship was called The Corsair, which as you may know, can mean either ‘pirate,’ or ‘privateer,’ and she was a captured, second-rate “man of war” ship with 90 guns. William loved her at once and couldn’t wait to get onboard.
Just beside the plank walkway that led to the ship, they met the Docent, or tour-guide, who was to take them through to see the sights. His name was James Benbow and he was a kindly, white-haired man of about sixty years of age, dressed in eighteenth-century sailor clothes. He smiled as he greeted them and took them aboard.
As they went along, he told them stories of the ship. The Corsair had been commanded by the famous pirate, Captain Jonas Flintlock (a well-known though underappreciated figure, in the Docent’s view). ‘‘Used to be a preacher in his young days, if you’ll believe me,’ he told them. ‘But God called him to take the good word to the Chinese, and he wouldn’t have anything to do with them at any price, no one knows why. The Captain was a most gentlemanly pirate, kind and considerate, even to those he plundered, though he could be fearsome enough in battle. Indeed, he often pretended to be a privateer, on the lookout for enemy ships, sailing for the King of England. Before we begin, let me also tell you something that you may or may not know. Today marks the two hundred and eleventh anniversary of the capture of The Corsair and the death of Captain Flintlock. Now, ladies and gentleman, we will begin our tour of the ship. And when we get back outside, I’ll have a question to ask you about Captain Flintlock, and if anyone answers it right, they’ll be awarded a very special prize.’
Mr Benbow was a most wise and knowledgeable guide. Indeed, as they would learn through his stories, he was a former sailor himself, and a leading scholar, not only on Captain Flintlock, but on English and American sea-history in general. More than just a tour guide, he was also the curator of the museum. But he loved guiding the tours so much he never gave it up, except when other responsibilities kept him from it.
He showed them the fo’c’s’le first, then the quarter deck, and even climbed the main mast to the crow’s nest to show them how it was done. Then they walked back in the direction of the poop deck, but Mr Benbow stopped at a particular spot on the middle deck. ‘Here,’ he said, resting his hand on the gunwales, ‘is the spot where Captain Flintlock fell in his last battle. “Surrender sir!” shouted Admiral Edwards of The Grandfather, the ship that brought the Captain’s pirating days to an end.’
‘Do we know what the Captain’s last words were?’ asked one of the folks in the tour group, a middle-aged man.
‘Ah, yes, we do,’ said Mr Benbow, with a strange look on his face. ‘And they have puzzled historians ever since. Just before he was taken down, Captain Flintlock shouted, “Curse the child!” Then he charged into the circle of his enemies and was killed. No one knows what he meant, to this day. Some scholars think he was referring to his son, who had turned against him years ago, and become a rival to his father. Perhaps the Captain was still bitter about that, even in the moment of death. No one knows for certain.’
Mr Benbow showed them the galley, and the hold, and the bilge, and the crew’s quarters as well. Then he took them to the quarters of the Captain himself. Here they saw many interesting relics of the old pirating days, and the Docent showed them what he said was his favourite thing on the whole ship. It was a small but beautifully-carved keyhole right in the middle of the wall of the Captain’s quarters.
‘It’s not part of a door, and it doesn’t lead anywhere,’ Mr Benbow told them. ‘It has long been a mystery to those who have studied the history of the ship. Why was it carved? No one knows for certain.’
‘Maybe it was just for a joke, or for no reason at all,’ said a woman in the tour group. ‘Maybe it was never meant to lead anywhere.’
That’s silly, thought William. Where there’s a keyhole, there is, or was, a key to fit it.
‘Maybe, maybe,’ said Mr Benbow, stroking his beard thoughtfully. ‘It certainly seems that way, at least. Now, then, these here are the shards of the Captain’s cutlass, broken in his last battle…’
As the Docent continued talking, William knelt down to examine the cupboards in the corner. He loved exploring and ‘looking into things,’ as he called it. He was at the back of the tour group, the line of adults forming a wall around him, so no one saw him. At the back of one of the cupboards, one of the boards was out of line with the others, sticking up just a little. He cleared away some cobwebs, and pressed down on it; it moved easily. Then he slipped his finger under the board and lifted gently. The board came up enough for him to put his hand underneath. Here he felt dirt: a fine, but damp, soil. William then dug into the dirt as far as he could at that angle. Nothing. He moved his hand farther to the right, inching the board up a bit more as he did so. Then he began exploring in the dirt again.
His fingers touched something hard. It was impossible to tell what it was. Very carefully, he extracted it from the dirt and pulled his hand from beneath the board, which eased back into place. The object was about four inches long and caked with dirt. William looked around and saw that the tour was moving on into the next room, but no one had noticed him. His heart began racing faster, though he hardly knew why. He knocked the stiff dirt away and found something that he had almost—almost—expected to find: it was a key, old and rusty. A flake of rust fell off, but instead of revealing dark iron below, there was a flash of gold. William began peeling the rust away and soon a beautiful, golden key shone up at him.
He knew what to do with it, of course, just as you would have. He glanced at the group ahead: the tour was moving out of the room and the Docent’s voice could be heard in the chamber outside the door. Everyone was listening to the Docent (except one pudgy boy who was absorbed in a small video game he’d brought along), and even William’s parents had not yet noticed he was not with them (in fairness, all this had happened in about a minute’s time). ‘And,’ the Docent was saying, ‘Captain Flintlock hid the directions to the treasure, in, of all things…’
But William did not hear the rest. He had already walked quietly over to the small keyhole. It was surrounded by pure Wall, no cracks or lines to indicate a door. Still…well, there was only one way to find out. No one was looking his way, and the last of the tour group (the boy with the video game) was only just visible outside the door, so William did what I’m sure you will agree was the only sensible thing to do. He put the key into the mysterious keyhole and turned it.
Part of the wall seemed to give way and the outlines of a door appeared. William’s hands were trembling as he pulled gently on the key. The door began to open, noiselessly. It was big enough for William to walk through. He removed the key and put it in his pocket. On the other side, he saw bright sunlight, and seawater lapping against the sides of the door. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a beautiful, white beach, with green trees growing beyond it. In a daze of wonder, William stepped through the door and into the water. It was shallow, and, moments later, he was on the beach.
He suddenly felt a bit worried and turned around to look where he’d come. The door was nowhere to be found.
***
Now he began to grow afraid, for he had no idea how to get back. Tears came to his eyes as he thought of his family. Would he ever see them again? But he’d read the stories, and the children usually got back from these adventures. But what story was he in? And which character was he to be? These thoughts gave him a bit of hope to go on, but he quickly decided he ought to do something else. More than this, he realised he wanted to do the thing he’d just thought of, and that was to pray. William had been praying all his life, of course, being brought up to it by his parents; but in the past year or so, he had been learning the art of prayer for himself. Now he sank to his knees on the sand and called out to his God:
‘Lord, forgive me for being so foolish, if it was foolish, to open the door. But somehow I think it wasn’t. Please help me to find my way home again, and to be brave and noble in this adventure you’ve given me. Amen.’
He looked around and saw that he was in a sort of bay or harbour, with land jutting out into the sea about a couple hundred yards away on either side of him. He then sat on the beach for a while, not knowing what else to do. Soon he would have to seek food and water, but for now he just sat and gazed on the sparkling Ocean.
A few minutes later he was startled to see a man walking towards him along the beach. He was old and thin, and dressed like a sea-faring man in the old pirate stories. He hailed William as he drew closer.
‘God save ye, young man,’ he said in a cheerful voice. He sat down beside William and smiled at him. William wondered whether he was a pirate or even, maybe, a fairy. After all, what did one expect after going through a magical door?
‘Are you…a pirate?’ he asked.
But the old Sea-dog would tell him little. ‘Maybe I am a pirate,’ he said, ‘but if I am, my plunder is neither gold nor silver, and I take only such things as I’ve a right to steal. Or…maybe I put off my sky robes today, taking the clothes and likeness of a swain, coming as swift as the sparkle of a glancing star—to help you.’
‘Did you?’ William asked in a whisper.
‘I said maybe,’ said the Old Man, his eyes sparkling like the star of which he spoke. ‘But I am here to help you, William. Look, yonder on the Sea. See that black spot in the distance? It’s a ship, as you’ll see soon enough. A ship called The Corsair. Do you know it?’
William’s eyes flashed. The story was unfolding at last. ‘Captain Flintlock’s ship?’
‘Yes, indeed.’
‘Then…what year is this?’
‘1798, lad.’
‘Then this can’t be Fairyland at all. I’ve gone back into the Past!’
The Sea-dog smiled. ‘The Past is merely a small garden in the west of Fairyland,’ he said. ‘But you will soon meet Captain Flintlock for yourself. And hear ye: Captain Flintlock will offer to take you on board his ship. You must do so, if you want to find your way home.’
And with that, the old man was gone, as if he had never been there. Now William took a deep breath, and tried not to be afraid, for he knew he must take ship with a crew of bloodthirsty pirates. Or…must he do that? He could hide in the woods until they had gone. But the Old Man had said the only way home was by taking that ship.
Soon enough the ship came into view, and there was no doubt that it was indeed The Corsair. William made his choice and remained sitting on the beach as the ship pulled into the harbour.
When the crew saw William sitting there, they began calling loudly for the Captain to come and look. Then a landing party, led by the Captain himself, took to their jolly boat and rowed ashore. The pirates formed a circle around William and looked at him with suspicion and even anger in their eyes. William fought down an urge to run into the woods.
As for the Captain, he looked just like the pictures William had seen in the ship-museum, except that he smiled more. He greeted William with courtesy and friendliness, and bowed to him.
‘I am Captain Jonas, sailing my ship The Journeyman here under Letters of Marque in His Majesty’s service,’ he said, and William remembered that Flintlock often pretended to be working for the king to keep folks from knowing he was a pirate. ‘How came you to this remote place, lad?’
William could think of no way to explain what had really happened, so he simply said, ‘I was marooned here.’ True enough, in its way.
The Captain’s eyes grew wide. ‘Thunder and Murder!’ he said. ‘To think of that—marooning a child!’
The Captain talked to him for a long while and William found he liked the old buccaneer. But Mr Benbow, the Docent, had said as much: ‘The Gentleman Pirate’ he was called, after all. And the Captain seemed to like William too, for he offered to rescue the boy from the island.
‘On one condition,’ said the Captain. ‘All men who board my ship must earn their way with a bit of work. I find myself in need of both a cabin boy and a powder monkey. If you’ll come aboard and learn the ropes, I’ll set you down back in England when I return.’
William knew what he had to do, though he didn’t want to do it. But there seemed no other way. He had travelled back in time on the Captain’s ship, and on that same ship he may hope to find his way back to his own time and place. He agreed to work for the Captain, and, the next morning, The Corsair being watered and victualled, William sailed away with Captain Jonas Flintlock, the notorious pirate.
***
For the next three weeks, William worked harder than he ever had in his life, learning how to be a cabin boy, and a ‘powder monkey,’ which was a boy who would run gunpowder to the crews during a battle. He had learned to work hard at home, so he didn’t mind that so much; what he did mind was knowing he was working for thieves and murderers, and he resolved to get away from them as soon as he could. These were evil men, and he could see signs of it each day. The pirates seldom spoke to him and they seemed, for the most part, a humourless lot, bereft of laughter, unless it were after a cruel prank on one of their fellows; William never so much as heard a single ‘Yo, ho, ho’ during his whole time on board, though he did see more than he liked of the famous ‘bottles of rum.’
But there came a day when the Captain took him aside and spoke with him. ‘You’ve worked hard and well,’ he told him. ‘But the time has come, lad, for you to really prove yourself a worthy sailor and become a true member of the crew.
Now as I told you, the Captain had lied to William about his ship’s crew and purpose, telling him they were merely privateers (and indeed the ship bore the brave colours of the Union Jack). Now, the crew had just spotted a famous merchant ship whom no pirate had ever been able to board. And Captain Flintlock proposed a plan to William: William would pretend to be sick, and they would flag down the merchant ship, and ask for help from her ship’s doctor.
‘Why would I do that?” asked William.
‘Well, you see, matey,’ said the Captain, ‘the ship’s doctor on this here craft—fellow by the name of Whitefield—was once a pirate, and he stole some things from me, long ago. I’ll not waste me time in fretting over the gold he took, but it goes hard parting with me old father’s Bible, it does.’
‘He stole your father’s Bible?’ said William.
‘Aye, that he did. Out of spite, I supposed, for what value could the likes of him set on the Holy Book? But I’m hoping you might help me get it back. It’s a black book, with a cross and rose painted real pretty-like on it. And further, I believe this here ship may in reality be a certain French privateer that we’ve been looking for nigh on two years. She’s looted many of His Majesty’s ships, and if these prove to be the same swabs, why, we can take ‘em by surprise.’
Of course, as William already knew, it was Captain Flintlock who was the pirate, planning, no doubt, to plunder the ship and kill its crew; but the Captain did not know that William knew this.
William’s heart thumped in his chest like a bodhrán. If he refused, the Captain would realise he knew the truth, and would probably have him clapped in irons, beaten, or perhaps killed. It’s a good thing, he considered, to owe no debt of truth to thieves and liars; and he thought of Jim Hawkins, playing the part of friend to the sea-faring man with one leg. ‘Yes sir, Captain,’ he said, with a smile, ‘I’ll help in any way I can.’
‘Thunder and Murder!’ said the Captain. ‘I knew you were just the lad for such an important mission.’ And he clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly way and laughed.
But William resolved to think the matter over before the time came.
***
Now this merchant ship was what they called a ‘first-rate’ Man of War, bigger than The Corsair and outfitted with more than a hundred guns. The Captain’s crew flagged the ship down, and ahoyed them until they got an answer; then they brought The Corsair around broadside. ‘We’ve a sick boy here, and our doctor was lost overboard,’ shouted the first mate. ‘Can you help us?’
Admiral Patrick Edwards, captain of the ship, agreed to take William on board and had this done as quickly as could be managed. He then had William carried down to the doctor’s room.
Doctor John Whitefield was a kindly man, and very gentle-spoken. He had William laid on his own bed.
‘Well, you don’t look too sick to me,’ said the doctor, with a smile. ‘Very strange clothes you wear, I must say, though I mean no offence, of course. Now, you just lie quietly while I—’
But William sat up and interrupted him. ‘Doctor, you’ve got to warn the Admiral. That ship I came on—it’s no privateer, but the ship of Captain Jonas Flintlock!’
The Doctor took a long, hard look at William, and believed him. William then told him the Captain’s story about his having taken a Bible from him.
‘That part of the story is actually true, or partly so,’ said the Doctor. ‘I was ship’s doctor for another vessel nearly a year ago, and we were boarded by The Corsair. As it happened, Flintlock and I ended up fighting one another with swords. I knocked him down once, and the Bible fell out of his pocket. But I knew that Bible, for it had belonged to a friend of mine, another doctor, who had been captured by Flintlock a few years ago.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘Why, he was marooned, if the stories we’ve heard are true. No one knows where. Well, I snatched up the Bible and told the Captain I’d return this to my friend’s family. I’ve not yet returned home to be able to do so.’ The doctor opened a drawer and took out a Bible. It was black leather with the emblem of Luther’s Rose on the front, and the owner’s initials engraved in gold at the bottom.
‘It was unique, custom-designed by my friend, and I knew it at once,’ said the doctor. ‘I wondered at the time why that old marauder would have kept this. Now that I know he is trying to recover it…well, I shall have to take a closer look at this Bible, and see why Captain Jonas Flintlock thinks it so important!’ The Doctor then rushed out to tell Admiral Edwards what he’d learned.
***
Now Flintlock’s plan had been to open fire with his guns as soon as William returned with the Bible, if he could get it. But having been warned, Admiral Edwards and his men armed and prepared to fight. But Flintlock was a wily old pirate: he had always known there was a danger that William might have found out who he was and warned the ship. So he was prepared. As soon as he saw his enemies running around on deck, he knew what had happened.
‘Thunder and Murder!’ he shouted. ‘The boy has betrayed us! Open fire, men!’ The Corsair still had a slight advantage, but the Captain had lost the element of surprise he had hoped for.
It was a hard, bloody battle, and good men were lost in it. But in the end, thanks to William’s warning, the tide began to turn in favour of the Admiral and his crew, many of whom had already boarded The Corsair. Here, on his own deck, Captain Flintlock was fighting against Admiral Edwards and four of his men; and looking up, he caught sight of Doctor Whitefield, fighting nearby. Knowing that the day was lost, he grew angry. While still fighting with his sword, he pulled out a pistol and aimed it right at the doctor, whose back was to him.
Meanwhile, William (against the doctor’s orders, it must be said) had obtained a pistol and dagger, and had joined the battle, swinging on a rope over to the deck of The Corsair, bullets whistling by him, his heart pounding. He dodged a knife thrown at him by one of the pirates (who had recognised him) and fired his pistol, catching the man in the leg.
Then, he saw Flintlock’s pistol aimed at Doctor Whitefield’s back.
‘Doctor Whitefield! Behind you!’ The doctor jumped out of the way only just in time.
Enraged by his missed shot, and by William’s shouted warning, Captain Flintlock, already shot or cut more than twenty times, had his sword knocked from his hand. ‘Surrender, sir! In God’s name, surrender!’ shouted Admiral Edwards.
‘Curse the child!’ Flintlock shouted, looking straight at William as he spoke; then he pulled his dagger and rushed headlong into the press of his enemies and was killed. So perished this legendary pirate, though he took two more Christian souls with him and wounded Admiral Edwards in his final charge.
***
After the battle, the prisoners secured, and the dead being taken care of, Admiral Edwards gathered his men and spoke to them. He had found seven gold guineas on Flintlock, and had decided to bestow these gold coins as small rewards on those whose bravery had earned them a special recognition. And so he gave these to the second mate, and the master gunner, and even the cook, and two of the able-bodied sailors, and one also to Doctor Whitefield. The final piece he awarded to William himself, for his timely warnings that had saved the ship, as well as the Doctor’s life. But the Doctor later gave his own coin to William as well, in gratitude for saving his life. William smiled at the shiny gold coins in his hands. Real pirate treasure!
Besides, as the Doctor said, ‘I already have all I want from Captain Flintlock: this Bible. I wonder why he wanted it so badly?’
***
William then joined Admiral Edwards, the Doctor, and others, as they searched through Captain Flintlock’s ship for anything else of value. They found little in the way of gold or other treasures. But William soon slipped away from the others, and found his way into the Captain’s quarters.
There it was: the little keyhole. He took the golden key from his pocket and looked at it. He wanted to stay, but he knew that, if he could get home, he’d better do so. By this time, everyone must be terribly worried about him. So he tried the key in the lock, and opened the door. This time, he saw no island, but what looked like a mirror image of the room he was in. He walked through the door and closed it behind him.
***
He felt as if he’d walked straight into the same room he’d just left (which of course he had). But the modern sign hanging in the room, ‘Captain Flintlock’s Quarters,’ and the broken sword on a rack on the wall, told him he was back in his own time and place.
To his surprise, he saw the tour group just ahead, still inching out of the room. There was the same little boy with the video game, still not listening to the Docent. As for Mr Benbow, his voice could be heard in the next room. Somehow, William had managed to arrive back at the same moment he’d left, and no one would be missing him after all.
Well, almost no one. He saw the curly head of his little brother, Nathanael, peep around the corner just ahead. ‘Come on, William!’ he called. William smiled and quickly rejoined the others.
***
Now, outside The Corsair once more, the old Docent concluded the tour. ‘One other interesting fact,’ he said. ‘As I told you before, the Captain had hidden his directions to the treasure in a Bible.’
William perked up a bit: he hadn’t heard that part.
‘And,’ continued Mr Benbow, ‘the Bible was recovered by Doctor Whitefield, ship’s doctor of The Grandfather, the ship that finally defeated The Corsair, and brought Flintlock to justice. By examining words in the Bible that Flintlock had underlined, as well as mysterious notes he’d written in the margins, the good Doctor was able to work out the location of the treasure.’
So that’s it, said William to himself, nodding his head, his eyes wide and intense. That’s why Captain Flintlock waited to attack. I wondered about that – why not just open fire once he’d got broadside of them? It was because he was hoping to get the Bible back first, with the secret to the treasure, before it got destroyed in the battle, or someone figured out what was in it.
Mr Benbow continued. ‘Doctor Whitefield became a wealthy man. But he always said, to the end of his days, that he owed both his life and wealth, under God, to a young boy who had come, he said, from The Corsair itself, and had disappeared soon after the battle. He never would say anymore about it, except that the boy wore strange clothes.’
William felt very strange himself when he heard this.
‘But,’ said Mr Benbow, ‘I think it’s at least possible that it was the same boy the Captain had been talking about in his last words: “curse the child!” It’s quite a mystery, that’s for sure. But that brings me to the very last part of our adventure today.’ He reached in his pocket and pulled out a beautiful, but old, coin. The tour group murmured in approval as he showed it around to them.
‘This,’ he said, ‘is a real English guinea taken from Captain Flintlock’s treasure. For over forty years, I have offered it to each group of folks who has come to see our old ship, as a reward to anyone who can answer my question. It’s a very hard question, to be sure, but it’s also a very good reward. In forty years, no one has ever gotten it right, and, as you can see, I still have the coin, which I have never had to give away. Here’s the question: old Captain Flintlock had a favourite catchphrase he liked to say whenever he was surprised or angry or…well, any time, really. What did the Captain like to say?’
The people of the tour group were thinking hard, but it was obvious no one knew the answer. William’s heart began beating rapidly: he knew the answer, of course, though he somehow felt he’d had an unfair advantage. Should he tell what he knew, and claim his prize? As he said this, his hand went into his pocket, where he felt the golden coins given him by Admiral Edwards and Doctor Whitefield, still there.
William cleared his throat. ‘Thunder and Murder,’ he said in a thick, nervous voice, gripping the coins in his pocket tightly.
The tour group gasped at this, and no one was more surprised than William’s parents. No one, that is, but the old Docent, Mr Benbow. His face showed such astonishment that he looked a bit comical. But soon he broke into a smile, and shook his head with curiosity and wonder.
‘That,’ he said in a quiet voice, ‘is exactly right, young fellow, though how on earth you could have known that is beyond me. Most scholars don’t even know that little fact, which I discovered in a rare book I found many years ago. Well, well. It seems this golden coin will now leave my hands at last.’ He laughed, and there was genuine delight in his voice as he spoke these words, and handed William the coin.
The people clapped and cheered for William, who felt a bit embarrassed.
‘But might I ask how you knew the answer, my friend?’ said Mr Benbow.
William kicked nervously at a pebble on the ground. ‘Oh,’ he said at last, ‘it’s just something I picked up somewhere.’
***
Now as we finish our story, I should tell you that William stayed around to talk to Mr Benbow afterwards. As the sun was setting, he told the Docent the whole story, and gave back the key, which of course did not belong to him; and Mr Benbow’s coin, which he felt he didn’t really deserve. ‘And besides,’ he said, ‘I have these.’ And he showed him the golden guineas that Admiral Edwards and Doctor Whitefield had given him. And Mr Benbow did not laugh at him, or tell him to stop playing games – indeed, he did not say anything at all for a few minutes, but stood thinking, and sometimes looking up at William or back at the ship. Finally, he smiled, and said, ‘I believe you, William.’ And they went back to the Captain’s quarters to try the key, but it did not work this time. But Mr Benbow was not discouraged by this, for he had a sort of an idea. He put the key away, and the next year, when the anniversary of the capture of The Corsair came round again, he tried it once more. This time it worked. And so it was that Mr Benbow learned that the key only opened the door on the anniversary of Captain Flintlock’s death. Before he went through the door, he mailed two letters, both of which he had written days before. The first was to William, to tell him all about it. The second was written to such surviving family as he had (he had never married and had no children), saying that he was off to do a bit of exploring in the world, and did not expect to be in touch again. And it is a fact that Mr Benbow was never seen after that. He left all his books to William. And years later, after he had grown up, William found an old book in Mr Benbow’s collection. In it, he discovered a list of all those who had served on Captain Flintlock’s crew. And among the names, he found this entry: ‘James Benbow, Quartermaster.’
THE END
