Captain Black Heart and the Ghosts of Sea Cove Bay
By Helen Gascoyne
One hundred and fifty years have passed since Captain Black Heart was murdered by his archenemy Jake Spode; and his spirit is not at peace.
According to the pirate legend he has the chance to lay his soul to rest once every fifty years, and after two failed attempts, this is his last remaining chance.
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Synopsis
Captain Black Heart calls on his descendent Sam Forshaw for help, in a last attempt to lay his soul to rest.
Sam, together with his younger brother Max and his friends Andrew and Lucy, embark on a dangerous quest that will take them on perilous cliff top scrambles at midnight, down creepy secret passages long forgotten under Sea Cove Bay. They are searching for Black Heart’s hidden treasure that will lead to the pirate’s eternal salvation.
Black Heart’s ghost is close at hand, but this time the ghost of Jake Spode has arisen as well. Spode is determined to keep Black Heart’s soul wandering lost forever. He too calls on his last living relative, Henry Spode, who hates Sam Forshaw with a vengeance. The battle is on to get to the treasure first and defeat the enemy.
The two boys learn of their pirate ancestors through mysterious dreams and encounter each other as Black Heart and Jake Spode take over their bodies to finish their earthly battle. Henry receives a disturbing letter from his Uncle Joe and Sam discovers that his beloved Grandad has secrets that will help him along his journey.
The voyages of Black Heart are relived through the story and we learn how he rescued Jake Spode from certain death. We witness Spode’s treachery as he murders the Captain and see the bravery of Black Heart’s best friend, John Friar, as he hides the hoard of treasure and Black Heart’s body in Sea Cove Bay.
Sam is victorious and with a little help from his friends, he sets the record straight about his great, great, great, great Grandfather. He returns the treasure to its rightful owner and Black Heart’s soul finally finds everlasting peace. Although Sam finds that his friendship with Lucy is changing into something more, he knows he has made a strong enemy. He suspects that somehow his future is tied to that of Henry Spode who swears to get his revenge on Sam.
Captain Sebastian kept the other ship just within sight, allowing it to touch the brilliant blue horizon, without letting it get too far ahead. The plan was for the other crew to believe that they were getting away. The Captain planned on the element of surprise to give them the upper hand. He knew the Onyx could outrun any ship in these waters and he knew his crew would enjoy the chase.
Captain Sebastian was a tall man, about six feet when he stood straight. He was thickset with burly shoulders and, as the years wore on his black leather belt had been stretched to its last hole to make room for his rotund stomach. He had a thick bushy black beard and a droopy moustache, which he would stand and twiddle when he was hatching a plan.
There was not a cloud in the sky as the Captain gave the order to speed up. Instantly the crew jumped into their well-practised positions and set about harnessing the little wind that there was. The magnificent silky sails billowed majestically.
“Steady as she goes,” Sebastian called. “Let’s not make this look too easy!” He laughed loudly, a deep bellowing chuckle lifting the spirits of the crew.
“Young Mr Black!” Sebastian called looking up to the crow’s nest perched high above the deck. The young boy sitting up in the wicker basket attached to the mast looked down and saluted at the Captain, waiting for his instructions.
Black was a blonde haired Irish boy with tanned skin and deep blue eyes. His clothes always seemed too big for him, as if he was waiting for his muscles to fill out and his chest to expand. He was sixteen, going on seventeen and had served happily under Captain Sebastian for the last year. His father had sent him to sea to make a man of him. Black wasn’t sure if it was working, but it was a better life that picking potatoes all day, so he never complained.
“Unfurl the flag, if you please” Sebastian shouted, “Let’s show them who they’re up against!”
“Mr Black” the first mate parroted. “Unfurl the flag.” The boy often responded to being called ‘boy’, but when he was called Mr Black, he knew there was serious business afoot. He leaned across to the mast with ease, his long gangly arms making the job simple. As he unhooked the rope to release the flag, a gust of wind blew his long hair into his face where it danced annoyingly in his eyes. He brushed it away and held it on the back of his head with his other hand. With a flutter the banner uncurled to reveal the skull and cross bones, the symbol feared the world over. The symbol that meant ‘here be pirates, run fast or we will steal all of your gold!’ Black gathered himself back into his nest and settled down to watch the battle. This was his first real one since coming aboard and he could feel the excitement of the crew from up here.
It wasn’t long before the ship started gaining on the other craft. Captain Sebastian chuckled as the bow split the waves in front of the vessel, leaving curls of white horses dancing in the water in its wake. He savoured the moment. He had been chasing the Captain of the Marylou for years now, and following some good fortune in the last port they visited, he had discovered their next destination. Captain Sebastian had planned the attack well. He had dreamed of this. He knew exactly what he would do.
They had come across the Marylou as expected in the southern waters and had stayed on her heels for two hours. The Captain knew Brodie would run and he had looked forward to the chase. The only decision he had had to make was when to accelerate the hunt.
As the Onyx sped through the water, the gap between the two boats closed and the sounds from the other ship could be heard faintly on the breeze. Sebastian knew that his plan was working. The flag had clearly spooked the crew and the speed with which they were gaining drove fear into the hearts of each of the men serving under Brodie. The best part was that Sebastian knew the fear that lay in Brodie’s heart after all these years. He could almost taste the dread on the salty air. It was time to reap revenge on the murderous, greedy baron that had stolen so much from those that had nothing.
“Lower the mainsail” Captain Sebastian shouted as they came up on Brodie’s ship. “Drop anchor and come up on her starboard side.”
“Aye, Aye Captain,” the first mate replied from the deck. He blew the whistle hanging round his neck and the crew jumped to attention.
Friar didn’t really need to use a whistle. The crew would have obeyed him without it, but he was a stickler for good practice on deck. Mr Friar had been first mate to Captain Sebastian for years and the crew revered him almost as much as the Captain himself. He was a remarkably young man for the position he held. He was small in stature with limp brown hair that hung just below his ears. He kept it tied back with a piece of string that was greasy and brown with use. He wore a brown bandana over his head and a brown leather waistcoat, which he never seemed to take off, even on washdays! However, his most distinguishing feature was the brown leather patch he wore over his left eye. Nobody knew how he had lost his eye and no-one ever dared to ask. Some rumoured that a jealous girlfriend had done it so that he would always remember her, but Friar kept it a secret and would tell nobody what had happened.
“Lower the mainsail, men and ready the anchor.” Captain Sebastian bellowed. “Bring her about along the starboard side.” The men busied themselves hauling on ropes and tying up the mainsail. The man at the helm swung the wheel round hard and the ship turned surprisingly easily for a vessel of its size coming in close to the Marylou.
A warm breeze blew across the deck, the salty sea spray raining lightly onto the ship. It was a welcome relief to the men. The crew had been working hard for the last couple of hours. Adrenaline pumped through their veins and brought their blood to near boiling point. What Captain Sebastian hated, his crew out of loyalty and respect hated also. They drew along side the ship as the wind started to rise.
There was a storm brewing out at sea, the waves started to roll the ship around a little more, but the crew didn’t notice. There was fire in their hearts and they were ready to fight. Let the sea send whatever foul weather it wanted. This day was the day a great victory would be won.
“Ready to board men,” the Captain shouted.
“Aye Captain,” the first mate replied, “Ready we are, on your word”.
“Steady now,” the Captain called, waiting for the opportune moment.
The noises from the other ship got louder and louder as the bow of the Onyx scraped the stern of the Marylou. The Captain noted the screams of panic rising from the other crew. He saw the enemy frantically scrambling across the deck, lowering the rigging and hauling in the sails. Then he saw what he had been waiting for, the cannons were being loaded and packed down with gunpowder.
“Ready the cannons” he yelled above the growing noise of the wind.
“Cannons ready, Sir” Friar responded, “I took the liberty of preparing them earlier, Sir.”
“Good man” laughed Sebastian “then let’s give it to them! Light the fuses, men” he boomed across the deck twiddling his moustache as a broad smile spread across his face.
“Light the fuses, men” came Friar’s immediate response as he wandered down onto the deck. The ship lurched in the water, as the waves got stronger. The Marylou was being tossed around more fiercely as the Onyx buffeted her side, the wind aiding the job.
The Captain swung down onto the deck to join Friar and dramatically withdrew his cutlass from its sheath. “Victory to the pirates” he screamed as the fire leapt in his belly. He jumped up onto the banister at the side of the ship, steadying himself with a mainsail rope. “Fire when ready!” he yelled.
“Fire” roared Friar as he ran the length of the deck and back again to make sure all the men could hear him. His pulse raced and his heart burned in his chest. “Make us proud, boys, send them down.” With that the crew ignited the gunpowder that had been packed tightly into the cannons and covered their ears as the guns went off.
The next half an hour was a bloody battle. The guns on the Onyx were far superior to the guns carried by the Marylou. They ripped into the boat as if it were made of matchsticks. The Marylou got a couple of cannons loaded and fired back but they did little to damage the Onyx. Captain Sebastian’s plan had worked. Brodie had not been smart enough to think ahead and prepare for battle. He had been caught unawares and ill prepared for such a vicious attack.
As the cannons bedded into the hull of the Marylou, Captain Sebastian returned to his position on the upper deck. He watched with amusement as the other crew scrambled around, desperately trying to load the cannons and fight back. He waited for the main guns to be taken out, all the time his fingers working the end of his moustache, his face a picture. Explosions erupted violently on the deck only a few feet away from him. The hull splintered and the ship leaned to the port side in an ungainly fashion.
Sebastian scoured the deck searching for the man he hated so much, but he was no-where to be seen. “Yellow belly” he cursed under his breath. “Let your men fight while you cower in a corner!” The crew of the Marylou were desperate. Their leader had disappeared and men were screaming with fear through out the boat as the Onyx’s cannons ripped into their vessel. Men were dropping like flies, caught in the cannon fire or by fling debris. They watched helplessly as their crew were picked off one by one by Sebastian’s men who were swinging across onto the crippled deck. Sebastian’s men carried good, strong weapons. Everyone had a stout sword and there were usually hidden daggers in boots and belts that came in handy when the hand-to-hand fighting began. The crew of the Onyx swept mercilessly through the enemy, cutting them down where they stood. Some of the men tried to run but they were not fast enough to escape the fearsome onslaught.
Then Sebastian saw him. He bellowed a blood-curdling scream across the deck, “Brodie you murderous villain, prepare to fight.” Then he swung across to the enemy ship, his sword held out in front of him, ready to take care of Brodie. Young Black felt the scream vibrate in his bones. He had never felt such anger and hatred in anyone before. He gripped the basket that cradled him tightly, not taking his eyes of the Captain.
Chapter 2
Sam was bored. It was one of those really hot summer days where the flies buzzed lazily against the school window. The classroom was hot and stuffy and in Sam’s opinion so was Mr. Clayton, the history teacher. He stretched his legs out under the desk and leaned back in his chair. He loosened the tie around his neck and tugged at his shirt collar. The uniform they wore at school was OK as uniform’s go; grey trousers, white shirt and a royal blue tie with red and yellow stripes. Fortunately in summer the boys were allowed to go without their blazers which was a good job for Sam as his was now too small, the sleeves only reached half way down his arms.
Sam Forshaw was a tall slim thirteen-year-old boy. He had short blond hair that was bleached in places by the sun. He had vivid blue eyes and a tanned face from being outside all the time. He was currently daydreaming about the summer holidays that were just around the corner. He longed to be out of this place with a whole six weeks ahead of him where he could do what he wanted and go where he wanted with his mates and of course his dog Jet.
It wasn’t that Sam didn’t like school; it was OK, apart from history, which he hated. He even found himself looking forward to some lessons. Geography was his favourite because he loved the thought of travelling the world having the sort of adventures his Grandad was always telling him about.
Sam’s Grandad was a dreamer a bit like Sam and he was never quite sure which of Grandad’s stories were true. Sam knew that he had done a lot of travelling and had been all over the world. He had brought some weird things back from far away places with ancient ruins and broken down temples and stuff. He knew also that his Grandad had a fixation with pirates. When he was younger he would listen for hours to the stories about a brave warrior of the sea who sounded more like a Robin Hood of the ocean than the bloodthirsty cutthroat person Sam really suspected he was. It was strange when he thought about it. That used to be the main topic of conversation they had, but these days his Grandad always went quiet when pirates were mentioned. Whenever Sam started a conversation about treasure or galleons full of pirates and the mighty deeds they got up to his Grandad would look uncomfortable and try to change the subject.
Sam loved his Grandad more than anyone; they had one of those special relationships that only happen once in a while. When Sam was younger he used to spend most of his spare time round at his Grandparents house. His Grandma used to spoil him with chocolates and treats. She would indulge his pirate cravings with fare such as Treasure Chest Trifle, Swash Buckle Stew and Pieces of Eight Pie. These days however, he didn’t get to see his Grandad as much. Since his Grandma had died three years ago, his Grandad had gone to live in an old people’s home in Workington, which was about ten miles away from Sea Cove. It was nice enough as places like that go. It was a modern building with large windows for the residents to sit in their armchairs and look out at the gardens. The lawns were always well kept and the flowerbeds were a riot of colour in spring and summer. His Grandad had his own room, which was plain and simple just as he liked it. When he’d moved there he had insisted on taking some of the furniture from his old house as he said he couldn’t bear this ‘new fancy plastic stuff people thought was trendy these days.’ Sam’s mum took him through to see his Grandad fairly regularly, but it wasn’t nearly enough for Sam’s liking. Every time he visited him Sam noticed how he was visibly aging; he was slowing up and had to use sticks to help him get around. He was clearly lost without Grandma and the staff at the home had said that they thought he was losing his mind. He would pace up and down the corridors muttering about pirates and the time coming soon and how the truth must be revealed. They thought he was nuts, but Sam knew that he wasn’t.
The last time Sam had been through was about a week ago. His mind wandered back to the small stuffy room that his Grandad was always complaining was too cold. It had been a strange visit. Mrs. Forshaw had been rabbi ting on about the price of shoes these days and how both Sam and his brother Max had both needed new pairs. His Grandad had seemed quiet and had just sat in his chair listening with his hands steeped in front of him. At one point his mum had gone out to talk to one of the nurses who looked after him and Sam remembered how eagerly his Grandad had waited for the door to close behind her as if he had been waiting for her to leave. He pictured the look in his Grandad’s eyes as he turned to look at him and re-lived the conversation that had taken place.
“Here lad,” his Grandad had said as he opened an old wooden box that was sitting on the coffee table by the side of his chair “take this.”
“What is it?” he had asked taking the object being handed to him.
“A piece of family treasure” his Grandad said with a twinkle in his eye. “In the right hands when the time is right it will bring the owner good fortune.” Sam opened the battered brown leather case that lay in his hands and pulled out an old tarnished knife. It had a glossy black handle with a skull and cross bones motif on the side. The blade still looked strong and sharp even though the rust from years and years of use was slowly taking hold.
“Wow, thanks” he had said turning the knife over in his hands.
“Put it away now lad” his Grandad had said “Your mother doesn’t hold with such things.” Sam slipped the knife back into its case just as his mother came back into the room. He slid it under the cushion he was resting his arm on and slowly moved it round to his back where he pretended to scratch an itch and slipped it into his back pocket.
His Grandad had winked at him and said “I was just telling young Sam here about his great, great, great, great Grandad.” Mrs Forshaw scowled at him. “You know, love, the pirate.”
“Yes, I know who you mean” his mother replied tartly “and you should know better than to go filling the lad’s head with such rubbish”. His mum had glared at him with a ‘don’t push it’ look on her face. Sam had looked from his mum to his Grandad trying to work out what was being said with out being said, but neither of them had given anything away.
They left shortly after that. His Grandad hobbled to the door to see them off but pulled Sam gently back as his mother left the room.
“Be on your guard lad; stay alert,” he had whispered “it won’t be long now” but before Sam could ask what wouldn’t be long his mum had bustled him out and was giving her dad a hug and a kiss.
“What did he mean?” thought Sam as he tried to focus back on the classroom.
Mr. Clayton was droning on about something incredibly boring. He drifted in and out of the lesson. He was vaguely aware that today they were learning about the Irish Potato Famine and how Ireland had been hit by hunger and disease some time last century, Sam couldn’t remember when. He heard Mr. Clayton say that acre upon acre of Irish farmland was covered with black rot which devastated the potato crop and left everyone hungry, ill and dying. Sam stared out of the window; the sun was high in the sky and there was a heat haze coming off the sea. He loved living in Sea Cove. As far as he was concerned it was the best place on earth for a boy and his dog. He loved being down on the beach messing about in the rock pools, clambering over the rocks and throwing sticks for Jet way out to sea, so that she swam for them. Jet was a black Labrador, she was a little overweight as labs go but Sam had had her from a puppy and they were inseparable. As soon as school was over Sam was planning to take her over the cliffs down by the golf course for a good run. That was Sam’s favourite walk. He would spend hour after hour gazing out to sea dreaming about what it would have been like to be a pirate and live out on the ocean. Sam had the sea in his blood. It was weird how passionately he felt about Sea Cove. He felt strangely tied to the place.
His gaze drifted back into the classroom and something on the wall behind Mr Clayton’s desk caught his attention. He looked closer and saw it was a map of some sort. “Funny” thought Sam “I haven’t noticed that before. I wonder if that’s been there all term.” He looked again and saw that the map was browned with age and ripped over one corner. It looked like a map of the Sea Cove coastline; he could just make out the Isle of Man opposite and the borders of Scotland. There was a strange symbol in the top right hand corner, which at a glance looked like some sort of gold coin, but as Sam stared closer an image of a skull and cross bones started to stand out from the paper. Sam felt a shiver go down his spine but he was jolted out of his dream by Mr. Clayton.
“Sam Forshaw, have you heard a word of what I have been saying?” yelled Mr. Clayton as he stormed over to Sam’s desk. Behind him Henry Spode giggled. Sam turned to glare at Henry as Henry mouthed the word ‘thicko’ at him. Sam hated Henry. They had grown up together in the village and seemed to have despised each other from the start. Sam didn’t really know why, there was just something about Henry that grated him. He was the only person who seemed to be able to get under his skin without even trying very hard. Henry was growing fatter and bossier as the years went by and was slowly losing the friends he had grown up with. He had started knocking around with a gang of lads that were known troublemakers. Sam looked up at Mr. Clayton who was seething with rage. If there was one thing Mr. Clayton could not stand it was a daydreamer and he knew Sam was one of the worst.
“Well” he said, “would you like to tell the class what happened to the poor farmers whose crops were destroyed and whose children were left dying in the streets? Hmm? Please enlighten us with your wisdom, or don’t tell me perhaps you weren’t listening. Where were you this time Sam, hunting for pirate gold off the coast of Almeria?” Henry and his gang laughed loudly behind him. Sam felt himself going red.
“No Sir.”
“Please Sir” to Sam’s relief it was Lucy “they were sent away on coffin ships.”
“I was asking Master Forshaw here Lucy, but as you seem so keen to come to his aid, please feel free to dig him out of the hole he is currently in” said Mr. Clayton angrily. Lucy was a slim blond girl that had recently moved to Sea Cove. Sam suspected she fancied him but he was way too shy to even talk to her, never mind ask her out. She smiled at him and he could feel himself going redder and redder.
“Well the rich landowners sent the poor families across to British North America with the promise of money, food and clothing” she parroted as if reading from a text. “But the ships they sent them on were poorly built and un-seaworthy, disease soon spread through them and they became known as coffin ships.”
“Yes, well at least someone was listening,” said Mr. Clayton moodily as he stalked back to his desk in front of the blackboard. “Sam as you have clearly not heard a word I have been saying you will write me an essay on the Irish potato famine and have it ready for me first thing Monday morning. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes Sir” said Sam grumpily. Blimey, if it was Friday today he only had the weekend to write the stupid thing and how was he going to get that done when he had so much planned.
He heard Henry behind him whisper “Forshaw thicko” again and felt the muscles tense in his arm, he was about to turn round and swing at him when his mate Andrew sitting next to him put a hand on his arm as if to say, ‘let it go mate it’s not worth it.’ Andrew was always a calming influence on Sam, he had common sense dripping out of him which sometimes made him a bit boring but he and Sam had been friends all their lives and they seemed to brush along together nicely. Andrew was slightly shorter than Sam. He had a mop of blond hair that drooped onto his forehead and his face was broad with freckles stretching across his nose.
Sam caught Lucy’s eye as he turned back to face the front and mouthed the word “thank you” at her, she smiled and looked back at Mr. Clayton who had started droning on again.
Sam tried his best to pay attention for the rest of the class but his eye kept roaming over to the map behind Mr. Clayton, there was something about the symbol at the top that was familiar to him in some strange way, he knew he had seen it before somewhere but he couldn’t remember where.
The bell rang for the end of school and Sam’s misery was soon over. Everyone started packing their books away and there were the usual noise of scraping chairs and loud chattering that signalled the start of every weekend. He shoved his books into his rucksack and stood up ready to go.
“Going out with Lucy woosy tonight are you Forshaw?” came the taunt from Henry behind him.
“None of your business” replied Sam angrily.
“At least someone of the female sex would talk to you Sam” said Andrew patting Sam on the back. “Unlike our chubby little friend Henry Wenry over there who makes the girls cry when he looks at them.” Sam laughed loudly. Henry bolted forwards towards Andrew making his hand into a fist when Mr. Clayton appeared looming over the desk.
“Now boys as you pay little enough attention when you are in my class perhaps you would all like to stay for an extra bit of revision in detention tonight?”
“No thanks Sir” said Andrew cheekily “we were just going.”
“Pleased to hear it” said Mr. Clayton. “And Sam, I want that essay on my desk first thing Monday morning do you hear?”
“Yes Sir” said Sam despondently “you’ll have it.” As everyone filed out of the classroom, Sam caught sight of the map again. “I have seen that marking somewhere before” he thought to himself “but where?”