THE X OF DOOM

©2008 by Richard S. Crawford

Modern piracy is nothing like how it was in the 1700s or the 1800s. And piracy in the 1700s and the 1800s was certainly nothing like how it’s portrayed in the movies or the Disneyland rides. Nigel Livingstone, corporate lawyer and head of a major law firm, knew this for a fact. He’d done his research. He’d scoured the Internet and read the books.

Still, for a middle aged English man saddled with an ungrateful wife and a sullen, uncommunicative daughter, living in a tiny, bankrupt town in northern California, the lure of the high seas, criminal activity, and the hope of sliding down a sail using a knife was too strong to resist.

And so it was that in the spring of 19– Nigel Livingstone sneaked out of his 6,000 square foot house, leaving his wife and daughter behind and booking a secret flight to Singapore, having gotten it into his head that Singapore was where the main piracy action was taking place. He was right, of course, but the piracy that happened in Singapore was mostly of the software and media sort. Illicit copies of Windows 9- and Nipponese television programs could be found in Singapore, but, alas, no cutlasses or ships flying the Jolly Roger. Certainly no black bearded men with peg legs or parrots on their shoulders.

Nevertheless, Nigel stayed in Singapore for another year, living on the beach, stealing food and money where he could, trying to be piratical in his own way. As an accomplished business leader and orator, he was able to gather followers around himself, and form his own gang of robbers and thieves and thugs of all sorts. He was just beginning to ponder buying a ship of his own. That’s when the Black X, the X of Doom, appeared on his right hand.

The X of Doom was something that Nigel had never expected to see. It was something he’d heard about often since arriving in Singapore but which he’d always assumed was merely a myth: a black X that appeared on your right hand when you have been marked for execution by the Pirate King. The Pirate King was something else that Nigel had always assumed was a legend, as well, and, indeed, it sounded like something straight out of the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas that he’d enjoyed as a child, but with something of a supernatural twist. The Pirate King, according to the stories, was a local pirate who’d managed to defeat previous holder of that title in hand to hand mortal combat. The same title was applied to whoever held it, man or woman. And the stories that Nigel had heard told that the same woman had held the title since she’d defeated Edward Teach in single combat in the Caribbean in 17–. Nigel, being of a logical bent, knew that it was impossible for one person to hold the title for over two hundred years.

Still, though, the X of Doom on his hand worried him. It was indelible. No matter how much he scrubbed, it would not come out. It did not fade as the days went by; indeed it remained as black as the first day it had appeared. Where had it come from? Who had crept into his chambers at night to inscribe it on his person?

The first assassination attempt came two weeks after the X of Doom appeared. A figure in black clothing with a mask appeared at the restaurant where Nigel and his most trusted lieutenants were dining, and attempted to kill him with a sword. If not for the quick reactions of his lieutenants, not to mention a busboy who threw a pot of hot tea at the attacker, Nigel would have expired that night, in a most gruesome manner.

Fearful for his life, Nigel went to the old woman who lived in a hut in Bedok and who called herself the Oracle of the Sea.

“The X of Doom cannot be removed,” the Oracle of the Sea told him, “not by mortal means. It will stay with you until the agents of the Pirate King have finally rendered you lifeless by their own hand. There is only one way to rid yourself of it forever, and that is to find the Pirate King herself and defeat her in mortal combat. But since the same Pirate King has reigned for over two hundred years, defeating her may prove impossible. It may be that she has supernatural powers at her command.”

Nigel saw the wisdom in this plan. He wasn’t sure he believed the Pirate King existed, but, then again, he hadn’t believed in the X of Doom until it showed up on his hand. He decided to fast-track his plan to purchase a ship and outfit it appropriately for a battle on the high seas. He also made sure he purchased all the weapons he would need, from hand guns to custom swords from distant Cathay, to take on the Pirate King if he encountered her on his journey. No one he spoke to knew the Pirate King’s current whereabouts, though rumors had her sailing off the coast of Tasmania.

There were three more attempts upon Nigel’s life: another dark-clad man who attempted to poison his ale but who was spotted by the barkeep before Nigel had a chance to drink it; and a woman who attempted to behead him while he spent the night in a brothel outside of Ang Mo Kio. She was apprehended by Nigel’s most trusted lieutenant Sellapan.

Three months after the X of Doom appeared on Nigel’s hand — said X not having faded one bit during that time — Nigel Livingstone set out with his crew on the Queen Anne’s Revenge II, headed for Tasmania, hunting for the Pirate King so that he could challenge her to single combat. Though he was a man in his fifties, Nigel felt certain of victory. If the Pirate King really were over two hundred years old, then she would certainly be frail and weak. And even if she weren’t, Nigel was an old fashioned man who believed that women are inherently weaker than men.

The journey from Singapore to Tasmania took significantly longer than Nigel had anticipated. However, when he and his crew arrived at their destination, the Pirate King’s ship had already sailed on. For months — during which Nigel had to defend himself against four more assassination attempts — there were no leads on her current location. Finally, he received information from a prisoner in Cockle Creek that he personally tortured suggesting that the Pirate King had sailed over to America. However, the information was no more specific than that.

Nigel sailed first for the Caribbean islands, believing that the Pirate King, in the tradition of many great pirates, would seek the ply her trade there. Unfortunately, there were no clues to her location there. He sailed north to Massachusetts Bay where he received information — no torture necessary this time — that the Pirate King had sailed over to California and was currently docked in the San Augustin Bay, hidden from the authorities by her magic.

The voyage from Massachusetts to California was difficult and long, especially since the Panama Canal was unavailable for him to use, and it was necessary to travel around the the Cape of Good Hope. But when the Queen Anne’s Revenge II finally arrived, they did see the Pirate King’s ship, Marauder, anchored in San Augustin Bay. Marauder was not a modern ship by any means, not like Queen Anne’s Revenge II. It was, in fact, an old three-master, reminiscent of the original Queen Anne’s Revenge that Edward Teach sailed.

Being in San Augustin Bay was disconcerting to Nigel, since it was so close to the town where he had abandoned his wife and daughter; he feared that he would be discovered, and prosecuted. Nevertheless, he did call over to the Marauder and demand to see the Pirate King, to challenge her to mortal combat.

When the Pirate King appeared on deck, Nigel was surprised to see that she was not only unmarked by the two centuries that had passed over her head, but quite lovely as well. She appeared to be merely a young girl, no more than ten or eleven years old, with blond curls and wearing a made Nigel think of the John Tenniel illustrations of the original Alice in Wonderland. Nigel’s heart faltered and he wondered if he could bring himself to challenge a child.

“You have been marked with the X of Doom,” the child called to him. “If you would remove the mark, you must challenge me to combat, and defeat me. Do you have the courage to do so? Or are you merely a cowardly dog, ready to die like a dog at sea?”

Nigel did not take well to being called a coward, especially not by a young girl. “Then I so challenge you,” he called to her.

“Very well,” the Pirate King yelled back to him. “Come to my ship and let us begin.”

“Right now?” Nigel asked, quavering.

“Yes, right now,” replied the Pirate King. “Unless you fear defeat from a little girl like myself.”

Nigel did not care to take insult from the Pirate King. He took one of the lifeboats from the Queen Anne’s Revenge II, and went over to the Marauder, bringing the pistol and the sword that he had purchased in Singapore.

The crew of the Marauder, dressed in clothing which reminded Nigel of the costumes from The Pirates of the Caribbean films, had cleared a large circle on the deck. In the middle of the circle stood the Pirate King, in her blue dress and patent leather shoes, holding in front of her a sword nearly as tall as she was. She spied Nigel’s pistol and ordered it taken from him. “It will not work aboard my ship anyway,” she said, “and will only hinder you in combat.”

Nigel wasn’t sure he believed this, but he did not argue the point with her. Instead the two of them squared off against each other. The Pirate King’s first mate counted to ten (forgetting the number seven) and Nigel and the Pirate King began to duel.

Nigel quickly discovered that the Pirate King was easily a match for his own prowess with the sword; more than, actually, since he had never actually taken the time to learn how to wield and fight properly with the sword.

The combat lasted for close to fifteen minutes, and the two rapidly moved beyond the circle that the crew of the Marauder had formed. Nigel found himself quickly pressed up against the ship’s main mast, with the tip of the Pirate King’s sword pressed against his throat.

He had never figured that he would die like this, killed by a ten year old girl with a sword.

Nigel closed his eyes and prepared to die. But before the killing stroke came, the entire ship shook, as if rammed by a large object. Then, as the crew cried out in alarm and even the Pirate King looked scared, the ship shook again.

The Pirate King looked around. “What’s happening?” she asked.

Nigel took advantage of the moment and lifted his own sword to the Pirate King’s throat. “Yield!” he commanded her.

The Pirate King gave Nigel a brief look, and then brushed his blade away with a disdainful sneer. “Not now,” she said. “We have another crisis to deal with.”

Nigel tried to recover his advantage. However, the ship shook once again and he dropped his sword. Men around him were screaming and shouting. He could even hear the people on his own ship starting to panic as well. He looked about, wondering what it was that could be causing such a ruckus. And when he finally saw it, he could barely believe that what he was seeing was real. A vaguely man-shaped figure had risen from the ocean, standing several hundred feet high. Giant wings sprouted from its shoulders. Its gigantic head sprouted tentacles from its face that flailed in front of where its mouth should have been. The entire thing was covered in green ichor that dripped and rolled off of its mottled flesh. The sound it made as it rose up was something like a roar, something like a growl, something like a million voices screaming in agony, and something like a toilet flushing.

“What in the name of God and all that is holy under Heaven is that?” Nigel cried out as the pirates around him gibbered and flailed with panic.

The only one who did not try to flee from the beast was the Pirate King. She turned to face Nigel and ordered him back to his own ship, from whence he could order all of his ship’s weapons to attack the creature. Nigel hesitated at first, still irked at being ordered about, not to mention nearly killed, by a young girl, but he recognized the wisdom in what she said.

The gigantic thing took a swing at the Marauder. Fortunately, its bulk was massive and difficult to manage, and it was clumsy. It missed the Pirate King’s ship by several dozen yards, as Nigel rowed his way back to the Queen Anne’s Revenge II.

Both ships then began firing all their weapons at the creature as it clumsily swayed on its Cyclopean knees, attempting to maintain its balance. It splashed its way through the bay, like a small child in a wading pool. Nigel hated to think how the people on land may have been reacting to this monster so close to them. He hated even to think how this monster had gotten here.

The cannonfire appeared to do very little harm to the giant. At length, both ships were out of ammunition. The Pirate King directed the Marauder to sail close to the Queen Anne’s Revenge II, and once the two ships were near each other, she called out to Nigel.

“This monstrosity is invincible!” she cried out. “We have no choice but to flee!”

Nigel, however, knew that they had one recourse left. “Order your crew to abandon ship,” he called back. “I’ll have my crew abandon mine. And we’ll ram both ships into the monster.”

The Pirate King looked doubtful that such a plan could work, but she nevertheless did as Nigel suggested.

When both ships had been evacuated, Nigel turned the Queen Anne’s Revenge II toward the creature and began to steer it forward. The Pirate King did the same with the Marauder, and sailed the ship single-handedly, even though the winds blew in the opposite direction.

It took only minutes for the two ships to reach full speed. Nigel threw the last of the life rafts overboard, and jumped into the water to board it. He paddled over to the Marauder in the hopes of persuading the Pirate King to board the life raft with him. She was, after all, just a little girl.

A horrific sound — the sound of wood breaking, metal ripping, and jelly-like skin being punctured — tore through the air. Nigel looked up and saw that both ships had rammed the creature. With what could have been a scream of agony, it fell over, and seemed to deflate.

Amidst the wreckage, the wood and metal and ropes and sails, there was no sign of the Pirate King. Nigel began to paddle away, with the intention of eventually making his way back to Singapore and claiming the title of Pirate King for himself.

But then a cry sounded from the dark water of the bay beside him. Nigel looked down. The Pirate King was treading water not more than a few yards from him. He paddled over to her quickly, picked her up out of the water and put her tiny dripping figure into the raft beside him.

“I suppose I owe you my life,” she said to Nigel.

“What you owe me,” Nigel said, “is the title of the Pirate King.”

The Pirate King looked at Nigel with a sly look. “Look at your hand,” she said.

Nigel looked. To his horror, the black X, the X of Doom was still inscribed upon his skin. It meant that he was till marked for death by the Pirate King.

As he studied the mark and pondered its meaning, he felt a sharp burning sensation in his side. He looked down and saw the handle of a sharp knife sticking out of his rib cage. He glanced at the Pirate King, whose right hand was covered with blood. His blood.

“But we defeated the monster together,” Nigel said.

The Pirate King shrugged. “Pirate,” she said, by way of explaining her betrayal.

Nigel looked down again at the knife. The pain was terrible, and the wound quite possibly mortal. But his strength, while fading, was by no means gone. He grabbed the hilt of his knife and pulled it out. “British,” he said, by way of explaining his stoicism.

With that, he stabbed the Pirate King in her throat.

Nigel himself nearly died of exposure and blood loss. He was, however, rescued by Coast Guard vessels which had been dispatched to investigate the strange events. He spent two days recuperating in the hospital, the second day accompanied by his estranged wife and still sullen daughter. They made plans to restore their life together, for Nigel to return home and once again become a husband and father. Nigel agreed readily to the plans, believing his taste for piracy to be sated.

But two weeks after being discharged from the hospital, he found himself walking the beach alone. Glancing out toward the bay, he spied the Marauder, and a dinghy on the beach apparently ready to transport him to the ship.

Without a single glance toward his house, his wife, or his daughter, he climbed aboard the dinghy, took the oars in hand, and returned to the only home he truly knew: the open sea, the beaches of faraway lands, the to a world where he would now be crowned the Pirate King.