Chapter Thirty-six

watch out. I sometimes write in the present tense to bring you closer to the action... enjoy...

Chapter XXXVI

Two more days, which seemed to the sailors as if they would never come to an end, passed before they were close enough to Boston harbor for Gabriel, who had been piloting the ship throughout the voyage, to finally make the announcement which all had anticipated; that they should prepare for docking. The moment he said this, the ship became a hive of activity, as several men began to furl the sails while others roused out the anchors or, if they were unlucky, began to clear the lower decks of hammocks, sea chests, and various other articles which had been mislaid by the men who had first claimed them. At long last, just after midday, the ship came alongside the dock.
Almost before it had stopped moving, Matt, Mark, Luke, and Raphael, two to each side, had leapt overboard holding the ropes used for just that purpose. When they had finished their task, which did not take them long, the four boys met in front of the ship. As they looked out at the growing crowd which had gathered to witness the arrival of the ship, the boys felt a sudden rush of pride in themselves. “Look at all those men out there!” remarked Raphael, as if the others needed to be told to do this. “And they’ve all come to see us! Would you believe it?”
“I can believe it, because I’m seeing it with my own eyes.” answered Matt.
Before the boys could say more, David appeared on the dock, along with Gabriel and John. Blowing loudly on a whistle he had brought with him, David announced to the crowd “The threat is over! And no-one has received any money for the head of Admiral Mellino, I presume?”
This statement was met with cheers and some laughter. David, however, suddenly grew serious as a large group of men stepped toward him. Without introducing themselves, they said “Come with us. Your brother is waiting for you.”
“Oh ho” replied Gabriel with a laugh “Has Anthony become so rich already that he sends servants to meet us? Who was this wealthy relative we didn’t know we had?”
“Quiet!” snapped the leader of the men who had stepped forward. “All of you are under arrest as pirates!”
There was a collective gasp from the crowd and also, we must admit, from the newly arrived sailors turned prisoners. “All of us?” David cried, voicing the common surprise. “Including the boys?”
“Including the boys.”
“Who accused us?”
“A man who wishes to remain unnamed.”
“But this can not be true! Any man who accused us of such baseness is a liar!”
“We do not discuss the honesty of others. Our task is to arrest you and place you in prison until your case is decided. Come along.”
Knowing that to resist would make them truly guilty, the Mellinos, along with Matt and Mark, could do nothing but march slowly in front of their captors through the crowd, whose surprise was quickly turning to hostility.
“Pirates, are you? And I thought you were good men!”
“And your brother an Admiral? Is he a pirate too, then? Did he buy his flag?”
“Go die in prison! No one’s going to try to get you out!”
Unfortunately, the hostility of the crowd soon became evident in the prisoners themselves, though they attempted to keep their tones civil. Gabriel turned to David, scowling. When he spoke, frustration was evident.
“Now, whose idea was that flag? We’d have been met with worse than this if we’d had that thing flying from the masthead.”
“Right back at you, Gabe. Whose idea was it to tell our secret plans to a ‘friend’, as you called him?”
“What makes you think it was him?”
“He wanted to remain unnamed. Obviously thinks we’ll come after him if we get out. Wouldn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t I what?”
“Never mind. We have to think of a plan that will get us out.”
Leaning back to speak to John, who was immediately behind him, Gabriel whispered “Pass the word. We’re to break away as soon as possible.”
Five minutes later, the whole party was forced into two carriages which stood waiting for them. Gabriel, Raphael, and John stepped into the first, while David, Luke, Matt, and Mark entered the second. As the prisoners took their places inside the carriages and the guards took their places outside, the boys leaned in toward David in their coach, asking eagerly “Well, have you got a plan yet? What’s the signal?”
David looked back at them which might have pity for their excitement. “The plan, my boys” he said softly, glancing out the window at the ominous building they were to be housed in “is that we will trust in God and the government.”
“We’re not going to break out?!” The boys were unable to hide their shock at David’s statement.
“Yes. Breaking out will be a last resort only. We must not accuse ourselves by our actions. I promise you, we will not mount the scaffold.”
The boys relaxed once more, satisfied. They knew now that they would escape, if they only waited for the right moment.
Seconds later, the coaches stopped abruptly. The guards swung the doors open wide and snapped “Out! Quick march!”
The prisoners, who were now confident in themselves and secure in the knowledge that the guards did not know their plans, stepped out of the coaches and, grinning cheekily, marched ahead of the guards straight into the dark passageway which was the main opening of the prison.
As they marched past, a voice rose out of the darkness. “It is you, isn’t it David? I’ve been in here for I don’t know how long waiting for you to turn up.”
“Anthony! Are you well?”
“As well as a man can be who’s escaped from his enemies only to be condemned by his countrymen.”
“Where’s Michael?”
“That’s enough!” the guards barked, prodding David’s party forward. “No communication with prisoners is permitted!”
As David and the others began to march forward again, Anthony called after them “Michael’s all right! He escaped! He’ll get us out!”
Cheered by this statement, the new prisoners replied with a call common to all men: “Freeeedoom!”
Just as Anthony had said, Michael had escaped and was roaming the streets of Boston. You may wonder why he had not simply turned back and broken Anthony out straightaway, but he had not done this because he knew that if he were to approach the prison at all for some time, he might be recognized and captured. He would be no help to anyone then.
The day on which we have spotted Michael is two days after the arrival and capture of his uncles and the other boys. At the moment he is sitting on the dock, watching and waiting for a certain ship to come in. There is a ship coming in now, and Michael rises anxiously to meet it. He thinks that Dameon may be on board this ship, as, of course, he is unaware of his oldest uncle’s death in Madrid.
After several minutes of intense concentration on the ship, Michael falls back in despair. Dameon has not disembarked.
As the ship continues to unload its cargo, two men, one of solid build and average height and light brown hair, and the other a tall, thin man with darker hair, walk briskly past Michael’s position, talking earnestly in a foreign tongue. Michael, having nothing better to do, decides to follow them.
When Michael had been following them for several minutes, the shorter man stopped suddenly and fired a question at him. “Did I know your father, boy?” asked the man, sounding surprised.
Moving closer, Michael replied “Did you? Who’s my father, then?”
“Would your father be Captain Dameon Mellino?”
“No. Captain Dameon Mellino would be my uncle. If you know him, can you tell me where he has gotten too?”
“Your uncle died fighting bravely. My companion and I have hurried here in the hope that we could save the rest of your people from the scaffold.”
“Really? Then you are just the help I’ve been looking for. The rest of my uncles, my cousins, and our two friends, sons of the famous captain Sponsler, are all imprisoned now. Will you help? How did you know we had been wrongly accused of piracy?”
Leaning in toward Michael, the man answered “That ship is really a smuggler. News travels fast. We came to help. Lead us on.”
“Thank you, sir.” Michael replied, stepping in front of his allies and striding off in the direction of the prison.
Some time later, when they had drawn close to the prison, Michael spoke again. “All right, sir. The guards want me. If I run past, some of them are bound to follow. Keep an eye out for yourself, because you’ll have to fight some off.” Noticing the man’s lack of a blade, he added “A few feet away, I will turn and throw you a knife. If you catch it, you should be able to unlock the doors if you haven’t taken the keys by then. Tell my family I will be waiting outside the western gate. Good luck.”
“Same to you, boy.”
Without another word, Michael sprinted off, in full view of the prison guards. Just as he had hoped, several of the guards, calling out “It’s the Mellino boy!” leapt up and ran after him. Just before he got clear of the prison, Michael drew one of his blades, spun quickly, and hurled it off in the direction of the men who had come to help him. Then he ran off.
Still in the shadows, the two men watched the boy’s flight. At the last possible second, the tall one reached up and caught the flying knife. Then the pair sprang out of the shadows.
The guards, who had become tense, quickly surrounded the two men as they ran toward the doors of the prison. The fight was hard but short, and it was only a few short minutes before the tall man was twisting Michael’s knife in the lock and throwing the doors open wide.
In a few moments more, the pair, who had left all the guards sprawled upon the ground, ran down the corridor shouting “Mellinos! Sons of Sponsler! Your help has arrived!” At every reply, they stopped long enough to say “The boy said he would meet us beyond the west gate. Wait for us.”
In the space of twenty minutes, the two men had released all of the Mellinos and both the Sponsler twins. Suddenly, Gabriel took charge. “Come on! I know where we can find coaches!”
As there was no time to argue, everyone else followed Gabriel obediently as he dashed off.
The whole party sprinted off without another word. As they ran, a cry was taken up against them. “The pirates have escaped! Sheriffs! Sheriffs!” Fortunately, the ‘pirates’ were able to keep just ahead of the angry crowd until they reached a cab stand, where they clambered hurriedly into an empty coach.
As the former sailors arranged themselves in the seats (the two men who had freed them had turned away and run off earlier), gasped out “To the west gate! When you’re there, we’ll hire you for longer! Quickly!”
As the noise was too great to attempt a reply, the cab driver only snapped his whip in the air, causing his team to dash wildly through the oncoming crowd.
Some time later, when the cab had reached the west gate, the occupants of the cab caught sight of Michael dashing towards them. Calling on the driver to slow down but not to stop, David, who was closest, threw open the door just in time for Michael to grab onto it and swing himself inside. David then called to the driver “Go on ‘till we tell you to stop!”
The coach bounced swiftly down the road for several days. By the end of the first week, the passengers knew they were being pursued by mounted sheriffs, who had as yet been unable to catch up with them. David then promised the coachman fifty dollars if he could get them home, and then suddenly decided “You drive, Gabe. We’ll let this man go.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Gabriel replied cheerfully. Without breaking stride or slowing down the coach, he had positioned himself on the box in moments. He stopped the coach for an instant so the other man could jump off and collect his fee from David, and then they were off.
Two weeks later, when the intrepid adventurers had finally reached home, they had to run into David’s house at breakneck speed to evade the sheriffs who were still chasing them. “Quick, everyone” David called “Bar the door! There’s something I must find! They shan’t take us away!” As the others braced themselves against the door, David went dashing down the hall. A few minutes later, he gave a triumphant cry. “Ah ha! Perfect! Just what I wanted! Open the doors, men! We surrender!”
For a moment, the others were stunned, but then they saw that he was laughing. They threw open the doors. As the whole party stepped outside, they noticed that a large crowd had gathered on the lawn to discover the reason for the commotion.
Grinning widely, David announced “We’ll come quietly men, but only if we are allowed to read this letter first.” Without further ado, he began reading.
Captain Dameon Mellino, Captain David Mellino, Admiral Anthony Mellino, Pilot Gabriel Mellino, John, Luke, Michael, and Raphael, sons of the said officers, along with Mark and Matthew Sponsler, twin sons of Joseph Sponsler, volunteer spymaster for the U.S. government, are hereby fully and unconditionally pardoned for any acts of privateering or piracy which they may have committed in defense of this nation. Signed by the hand of the President of the United States, …” At this time, David held it up for all to see. He then added “Now, my good men, if you’ll go find a man by name Franz Turphoil, and arrest him, we shall be square. And tonight, I invite everyone to the pub to celebrate!”
The whole crowd cheered at this, and then went their own ways. The pardoned sailors retreated into David’s house and remained there until after dark, when they went to the pub, which was full. Taking the largest table, David called “Ale for the men and cider for all the boys! These two” he added, pointing at Mark and Matt “are boys.” This statement drew general laughter.
Several minutes later, when the drinks had come, David rose. “Gentlemen, I would like to offer a toast, or two.” Raising his mug, he called out “To God, to America, and to true friends! Long may they last!”
“Aye!” cried the whole establishment. There was a pause as everyone drank a portion of their beer. Then David continued. “To Dameon Mellino and Joseph Sponsler, two brave men who died for their friends!”
“Aye!” The drinks were emptied, then refilled. Then, David mounted the table and called out in his best deck voice ‘To happy reunions and fortunate destinies, may they be God’s Will!”







So ends the story of Reunions And Destinies
Featuring my good friends The Scarlet Pimpernel and his brothers, C.C. and his brother M. as Spaniards, and with appearances by my good friends J.B. and H. S. as Portuguese expatriates.
(Under normal circumstances, I do not positively identify my friends to protect their identities)

-Written for the greater Glory of God by JT/King Valun-

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter XXXV

Nearly two weeks had passed since the events of the previous chapters. The journey through Portugal to the coast had taken as few days as one could possibly expect it to take, and David and his party had already been out to sea, on board a Portuguese trading vessel, for at least four days. They were not idle, as they had been taken on condition that they, being able seamen, would work alongside the hands. It had been agreed, however, that they would all be in the same watch.
On this particular day, they were on duty in the middle watch of the night. Accordingly, Gabriel was manning the helm, Mark, Matt, and Raphael were in the crow’s nests atop the masts, and Luke and John were standing beside David, who was officer of the watch, on the maindeck, when they heard first the shots, and then the cries.
“Fall off and stand by for boarding! We shall fire if you attempt anything!”
“Luke,” David whispered to his son “Go give the captain my compliments and tell him that it seems he needs to prepare his papers and what little armament he has.”
“Are we going to fight?”
“Yes. Just go.” David replied, slapping Luke lightly on the back.
Luke took the hint and ran off into the darkness.
After Luke had left on his errand, David strode over to the wheel to have a few words with Gabriel. “Have you fallen off yet?”
“Do I look like I’m wet? I need the crew to fall off. We’ve no worries yet. They can’t see us.”
“Then how do they know we’re here? Believe me, if they called out to us, they’ve surely got guns trained on us.”
By this time, Luke had brought the Portuguese captain on deck. David, who knew enough of the man’s language to make his point, pointed out in the direction that the British voice had come from and held out his other hand for the night-glass the captain had brought with him. Taking it, he took a long look at the British ship, which he could now see easily. Handing back the night-glass, he pronounced in Portuguese “Frigate. Gunports open and prepared.” Turning to Gabriel, he repeated the statement in English and added “So what are we going to do about it?”
“What do you expect us to do about it? They outnumber us at least three to one and are already prepared to blow us out of the water. What arms does the captain have?”
“There’s a carronade on the bow. Besides that, he has only small arms for the men.”
“Then it is obvious. We have to run. Tell him to lower his boats. We’ll row away on muffled oars.”
“Under the loaded guns of a British frigate?”
“One can’t be the hero every day, or night, for that matter. The night’s at it’s darkest now. We must go. Send the night-glass up to Mark. He’ll keep us informed. Tell John to stay up there with him to relay messages.”
Soon, there was nothing more to be said or done. In a short time, all the few boats the Portuguese had on deck were in the water, hooked to that side of the ship which faced away from the British vessel, and pulling hard to move their ship out of danger quietly.
On deck, Gabriel, who was still at the wheel, tested the wind and then turned to David, saying “Ask him how fast his ship can go.”
Without replying to Gabriel, David did so, and then addressed his brother. “He says... it can fly like a bird when he wants it to. But you’ll have to give him the wheel.”
“Fly like a bird, can it? What sort of bird, a falcon or a dodo?” Gabriel said, grinning broadly as he relinquished the wheel.
The captain must have had an idea of what Gabriel had said, because he took the wheel scowling and immediately began snapping out orders to the crew. David turned on Gabriel indignantly. “You need to apologize to him. At the moment, he’s our captain, to a point. You know perfectly well you never would have said that if you thought he would understand.” David paused as the captain addressed him. Turning back to Gabriel, he added “He wants you to heave the log.”
Saluting to the captain, Gabriel turned and strode off without saying a word. Five minutes later, he came running back. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself!” he called to David. “We’re already running off the reel!”
Just then, John appeared at Gabriel’s side. Saluting, he announced “Mark said it’s been long enough that I can tell you that it appears that there’s nothing behind us anymore. We’re safe.”
And then, a moment later, a totally unexpected cry from the boys on the lower mastheads. “Look out! Look ooouut beloooow! Mark, Where are your eyes?!” An instant after the boys’ cries had stopped, those on deck saw what Matt and Raphael had just noticed. A large British ship had materialized out of the darkness, directly in their path. The captain spun the wheel as fast as he could, but it was too late. The merchant vessel collided head-on with the broad side of a British frigate. The bow of the trader immediately snapped almost completely off.
David immediately began shouting at the captain in Portuguese. “Arm as many men as you can and send them after us! We have a hard fight ahead, for it’s capture that frigate for ourselves or sink!” And then in English “Come on Gabriel! This is as good a time as any!” Throwing off his coat to reveal a menacing array of knives, and even a tomahawk, David drew a pistol, ran to the extreme forward end of the sinking merchant vessel, and leapt aboard the frigate, ready to fight.
Gabriel, who was just as ready as David, followed his brother a moment later. As soon as he hit the British deck, there was a pepperpot pistol in each of his hands. Mark, Matt, and Raphael came down from the mastheads moments later. Each was carrying a pistol and a saber. As the armed crewmen ran past them to the aid of David and Gabriel, the five boys grouped together on the safest point of the rapidly sloping deck. Mark spoke first.
“Alright. Matt, you stay behind with Luke and John. Raphael and I are going in.”
Matt was taken aback by this statement. “What? You think we’re too young for this? You’re my elder by what, five minutes? Remember what our father said.”
“I am remembering. He taught me to be the best just for this purpose. Wait here. Someone’s going to get hurt.”
“Do you remember that this ship is sinking under us?” exclaimed Luke, exasperated at the twin’s arguing. “We can’t stay here anyway!”
“Look at it as it really is, Mark.” John spoke up “We need every man we can get, you can’t stop us anyway, and if you really are the best, the last thing you want is for Luke to feel compelled to knock your head on straight again when you would rather be out there fighting. We’ll come behind you.”
“Alright then. Come on. We’ve wasted too much time already.”
Without another word, the boys, led by Mark, clambered over the side of the British vessel and joined the fray, which was going badly for their fathers and their allies. David and Gabriel, with the Portuguese crewmen, had their backs to the figurehead of the ship. It was all they could do to stay alive in the face of the foe’s overwhelming numbers and superior training.
The boys caught the British marines by surprise, and had soon cut their way to their friends’ sides. Turning to David, Mark asked “Well, sir? Are we going to get home to our families, or are we going to die ignominiously on a bloody British deck? Shall we show these redcoats how men in full possession of their wills fight?”
“You are confident we can beat them? You’re only a boy.”
“Only a boy? There you go again. I’ll show you what a ‘boy’ trained by the phantom can do!” With that, Mark drove straight into the line of British troops. He was soon lost to sight behind the numerous ranks of marines.
Matt, the Mellinos, and their allies continued the fight, asking no quarter. No speech was heard from any quarter for several minutes. Then, suddenly, from a far quarter of the ship, came a cry, which Matt and the Mellinos could hardly believe. “Help! Help! Heeeellllp meee or I’ll die!”
Everyone could tell who was calling out. Matt and David stared at each other for a moment, and then, without a word from either of them, charged straight into the British lines. The British troops were so taken aback by this sudden, seemingly hopeless move, that their deeply imbedded military precision and skill which was so often unstoppable was no match for Matt’s wild desperation, backed by David’s veteran skill.
In consequence of this, it was not long before the two had reached Mark. They had reached him at the last possible moment. Mark lay sprawled on the deck, quite apparently senseless once more. The captain of the ship, who had just struck the decisive blow, was standing over him, determining whether it would be better to finish the boy now or hold him captive.
Before he had time to make his choice, though, David’s tomahawk had decided for him.
While David held off the attackers, Matt immediately set about rousing Mark. On one knee beside his brother, Matt slapped him several times with his free hand.
“We’ve come! Don’t be dead now, after all we’ve been through!”
Releasing a drawn-out moan, Mark replied “That bloody Brit doesn’t know how to hit a man. Thought he’d knocked me out. I did too. Then I find all he’s done is to give me a blasted nasty headache.”
“Then stay still. We’ll be out of this soon enough.” Rising, Matt raised his sword, standing over Mark. Standing back to back with David, he held off every man who came his way.
It seemed to Mark, as he lay on the deck, doing his best not to move, that Matt changed as he watched. There was something about him which had been longing to come out, and apparently not had a chance to do so until this battle. Mark could not immediately decide how Matt had changed, but after a few moments had passed, he determined what it was. There was a new hardness about Matt, a new determination, which had not been present before. This too, was a question Mark found himself unable to answer at the moment. So, there, as his brother and his Godfather continued to slay British marines left and right to protect him and themselves, Mark turned inward, to discover what he really thought.
Even the act of thinking was painful, due to his awful headache, but after several minutes had passed, Mark began to see the answer to his question. As they grew up, he had always seen Matt only as a friend, and not as an equal. But in the recent weeks, he had been over the edge of despair and back, and only now began to see things in their proper light. Matt was his equal, and in some ways, his better. Mark, who had been trained as the fighter, was now forced to watch as Matt proved that he, too, was brave enough to handle anything thrown his way. The days when Mark had had to shield Matt were long past. Now, their roles, as they had been long since in reality, were reversed, and Matt was doing his best to shield Mark. The words which had brought him back from the edge ran through Mark’s mind again: “Trust Matt, and you’ll live long and happily. Ignore him, you’ll die soon.” Mark, however, had always been too impetuous to heed those words before. Now, as he lay helpless on the deck, he finally saw what he had been missing.
That which Matt had, Mark was finally gaining, through Matt’s unquestioning determination to stand and fight, for the first time without Mark at his side. An understanding. An understanding that men do not accomplish great tasks without support from others. Even those who appeared to have done their deeds alone always had others to thank for support. Mark’s greatest need for support had finally come, and Matt had risen to the challenge. There was no longer anything to fear. Mark slowly allowed himself to relax. Moments later, he succumbed to the urge to sleep, even in the midst of a battle.
It was hours later when he opened his eyes again, his headache completely gone. Silence had once more returned to the ship. David and Matt soon showed themselves, leaning over Mark as if he were something that had fallen from the sky. “So, you’re finally awake, eh? Hose to the deck!” David called loudly as Matt said in a stage whisper, grinning widely “I’d get up if I were you. They’re about to douse you.”
Scrambling up, Mark dashed up the nearest mast until he reached the yards. Laughing, he called down “Truce! Truce! I’m awake now, see? I’m not coming down ‘till you put that dangerous hose away!”
It was not long before Mark was joined on the yard by John. Settling himself into position, John said “You would think it a pity that you missed most of the battle. You would have been as surprised as we were to see what we saw. Matt fought like twenty and shouted like ten. Of course, we all had to stand up to waves of marines, but if one man’s blade was stained, it was Matt’s. And then afterwards. We used nearly all the spare sailcloth, for uncle David insisted the job had to be done respectfully. You slept through all that, and stayed out until the same time today.”
“I slept all day?!” exclaimed Mark, astonished “Well-Well--- That captain and I both thought he’d done for me, but I didn’t think it was that bad. Why didn’t anyone move me?”
“They said you needed rest. Said a nap that long would get you over anything that was wrong. Also said that if you found you’d been moved to a bunk, you’d likely blow off at everyone. That was Matt.” John added, almost as an afterthought. “Well, I’ll be going. They’ll be wanting you on deck soon now you’re fit for duty.” Swinging off the yard, John grabbed a rope and went on his way down to the deck.
It was fortunate for all concerned that they did not cross paths with another British ship during their passage to America. At long last, after several weeks of hard labor (for the ship would have been undermanned had they won the battle unscathed), Luke, whose turn it was to stand up the mainmast, cried “I see it! I see it! America! We’re home at last!” Closing his father’s telescope, he grabbed a backstay and slid back down to the deck.
He was soon met by David, who took the glass and said “We’re a long way from home yet if you’ve just seen it now. Back to your duties. I’ll send another man up now.”
Knowing it would be futile to protest, Luke turned dejectedly and made his way back along the deck until he came alongside the twins, coiling loose rope. “Drat this cruise!” He exclaimed suddenly. “Wasn’t this cruise supposed to make us all rich? So where are the riches?”
Without looking up, Mark replied “It has made us rich. Our riches are inside. If you’re wondering where all the galleons have gone, ask your father. If you want friends, we’ll be glad to help.”
But Luke was not going to be put off easily. Frustrated at having not received the commendation he thought he deserved for being the first to sight land, he was looking for a fight. “Keep your boring inner peace to yourself! Give me the riches! You wouldn’t care! It’s not as if you ever had anything!”
At this, Mark snapped. Leaping up after Luke, who had turned away, he quickly spun him around and grabbed his wrists to ensure that he was not knocked out. He spoke angrily, spitting out the words as if they tasted offensive. “Listen, Luke. You’re right. We haven’t got anything. We’re not wealthy like some boys I could name, We hardly know each other, and we lost our father, twice. But you don’t know what that’s like, because you haven’t lost him once yet. Now leave us be to work.”
As Mark resumed his work, Matt remarked “You handled that well. The old Mark probably would have threatened to toss him overboard. What did he want?”
“Didn’t you hear? More money, apparently. I can’t imagine why. Seems he really just wanted someone to shout at.”
“He’ll get over it. We all will. Didn’t he say we were almost home?”

Chapter Thirty-Four

This chapter comes to the Scarlet Pimpernel custom-made...

Chapter XXXIV

Dameon had been sitting in the dark cell for days, waiting for the Spaniards to come for him, and beginning to think that, maybe, there was an outside chance that they didn’t care about him anymore... No, of course not. They would never forget him while he was alive, and if he had his way, they would never forget him after his death either. His final act would be to teach these Spaniards that a good man never goes down until he is ready. Though from his angle in the cell below street level, he could not tell, the day was already far advanced. Dameon had lost track of time after he had been locked up, and now spent most of his time sleeping. Suddenly, he heard the sound of heavy boots echoing through the passage. He knew instantly that they were finally coming for him.
A moment later, a Spanish officer strode into the room, ordered Dameon to stand, and then tied his hands behind his back. Dameon did not resist, only thinking “So I’m supposed to escape and fight, am I? Well, these Spaniards don’t seem aware of that. I’ll just to have to carry the show on my own.” The Spaniard still refused to speak, simply pushing Dameon toward the door so that he stumbled awkwardly as he was crossing the threshold.
He had to blink several times before he was ready to mount the steps to enter the cart that had come to carry him to the square. Looking out at the crowd, Dameon saw that what must have been at least half the city had turned out to witness his execution. He had been expecting this. He had not been expecting to see any friendly faces. But then, in a matter of seconds, he saw them; the muscular man with the short blond hair, shaking his fist along with the others, but wearing an expression radically different from theirs. And then the other, the tall Portuguese, brandishing his sling and wearing the same expression as his friend. Both were trying to tell Dameon “Don’t lose hope! All will end well!”
The remainder of the ride seemed short to Dameon, cheered as he was by the fact that he would not die alone. As he had known he would, he mounted the scaffold gladly, fifteen minutes after he had exited the prison. As the executioner dropped the noose around his neck, Dameon began to look around for the friends he had seen in the crowd earlier. He grew disheartened at failing to spot them. “Maybe they were on their way out.” He thought. “They never said they would rescue me anyway. They only gave their word that they would get rid of Coinhara if they could.”
Looking up one last time, Dameon saw that the Spanish officer who was about to read the sentence was... Coinhara! Gathering his strength, Dameon shouted “The days of you and your kind are numbered, Coinhara!”
Coinhara looked up slowly from the paper he was holding. Then he looked down at it again. After a pause, he pronounced “Is it really necessary to read this? This is false anyway. Release him.” Tearing up the charges, Coinhara stood and smirked as the platform opened underneath Dameon’s feet and he dropped through.
Suddenly, as Dameon was still falling, he felt the bonds around his wrists fall away. A voice behind him said “I would say that was a good shot, but it was not the best my friend can do. He can split hairs if he wants to. Try not to move; he’s going to do it again. When I say ‘now’, make a grab for the rope and climb for your life with all your skill. Until then, act limp. They think you’re dying.”
The moment the voice had stopped speaking, the knife flew through the air again, this time cutting the noose just under the knot. The cry of ‘now’ came a split-second later, as Dameon was falling to the ground. Reaching up, he grabbed the rope and began pulling himself up, hand over hand, back through the hole in the platform. With a last effort, he leapt onto the scaffold shouting “For the phantom, for America, and for God!” Charging straight at Coinhara as that man stood frozen in shock, Dameon sidestepped him at the last possible moment and grabbed Coinhara’s sword from its sheath. “I stand ready to fight to death! Come at me who will!”
As as many as fifty soldiers came charging out of the crowd, Dameon leapt down among them, relishing the fight. The training the phantom had given him years ago underneath Edinburgh University was let loose in its full force for the final time. Not one of the soldiers could touch Dameon, who was in his element, with blade or rifle butt. He fought his way out into the center of the square, away from the scaffold, as he became aware that even more troops were coming against him. “Might as well,” he thought “I’ve sent so many on ahead already that there’s plenty of room on the wagon for more.” He never said another word, or even thought another thought. His mind was completely blank as he spun, slashed, hacked and parried his way into legend, waiting for the word that he might stop.
Finally, after several long minutes, when he was at last beginning to tire, he saw what he had been waiting for. She was there for a moment, and then disappeared again. His wife, Elspeth, who had died years ago, had just appeared before him in the midst of the ranks of soldiers. He knew now that the end was near. Even so, he kept fighting for several more minutes.
Finally, at long last, slowed by extreme weariness, he was unable to dodge the heavy blow of a rifle butt which came down upon his head. At the same moment, he felt a blade pierce him from behind. As he fell to the ground, he looked up and saw Coinhara still standing on the scaffold, watching the demise of his greatest foe. But even as Dameon watched in that instant only, Coinhara fell to the ground, revealing the two men who had aided Dameon earlier, cheering wildly in a last rousing send-off. With his last breath, Dameon cried out “God our Father! Have mercy on us!” A moment later, he collapsed to the ground, dead to the world.
Dameon was walking along an inexplicably bright hallway, which seemed to have no visible source of light. He was wearing his best dress uniform and carrying his hat under his left arm. He was not wearing his sword. He walked briskly, eager to reach the end of the hall.
Suddenly, an opening appeared in the wall. Through it stepped Elspeth, radiant with happiness. Dameon stopped short as she came up to him and asked “Was it hard?”
“No. Honestly, it was the easiest thing I’d ever done, knowing what would come of it.”
“When I saw you, you looked so tired.”
“Is it not right for one to be tired of life when God is near at hand?”
“I see what you mean. Is our John a good boy?”
“Yes, he is. A wiser man his age could not be found. He will be a great priest.”
“Then let us go.”
With that, the two stopped talking and both began to hurry down the hallway once more. In a short time, they had come to the door which Dameon had tried and failed to open in his dream. He knew, though, that this time it would open instantly, for his time had come. Turning the handle, he threw the door open wide.
At the sight of Dameon, Joseph rose from his place nearest the door and offered Dameon his hand, saying “Welcome, Dameon Mellino, honorable soldier of God, to the League of The Father.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter XXXIII


Desperate to reach London in time to save his father, Michael had ridden three horses to the ground after taking each of the last two in the dead of night. At last, severely saddle-sore but thoroughly relieved, he reached the gate of London at dusk on the fifth day after he had left John Crane behind in the coastal town. Slipping off the horse just inside the gate, he crawled to a nearby storefront, leaned against it, and fell into the deepest sleep he had gotten in the past week.
It seemed like only moments later that he was roused out of his slumber by the harsh voice of an angry Englishman. “You, boy! Take my horse! Put him up at the Royal Arms, and be sure it’s done well, or there’ll be some aching backs around that place when I come for him!”
Not wanting to be followed by yet another angry Englishman, Michael took the horse without a word and strode off toward the center of the city, knowing if he were to stop and ask where the place was, he would be detained immediately. As it happened, the place was not far from Trafalgar Square, which was where Michael had decided to go first, reasoning that he could find any building more easily from the center of the city. Having put the Englishman’s horse up well in the stable, Michael circled around the building to the back door.
As he came into view, the proprietor of the establishment put his head out of a window and called “We don’t serve street boys like you! Not at the front door, and not at the back door neither! Take yourself off to some place better suited to the likes of you, like the sewers!”
“Do you serve those who are looking for work?” Michael called back sharply an instant before the man slammed the window shut.
“Only on Tuesday evenings and Friday mornings, from four to eight! It’s now Thursday,” The frustrated landlord shouted back. “Be off with you!” Slamming the window shut, he disappeared.
Michael waited for several minutes to be sure that the coast was clear. When he had decided that it was, he crept to the doorstep. Using his knives, he had quickly forced the door so that it could be easily pushed open. Opening it quietly, he stepped inside and shut the door once more.
Even when he was inside, he went unnoticed. Desperate to hear what news there was, he sidled over to the bar, picked up the nearest dish, and hurried out into the main room. Once there, he stopped and waited until he spotted the man, made apparent by his frustrated gestures, who had obviously ordered the particular dish Michael was holding. Hurrying over, Michael set the dish down carefully, saying “I’m sorry, sir. I’m new here.”
“So new you didn’t know who had ordered what? How long have you been working here?”
“Exactly two minutes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, sir, I have other people to serve.”
Walking briskly back to the kitchen, Michael had served three more people before anyone stopped him. The fourth time Michael returned to the kitchen, he came face to face with the owner. “And what do you think your doing with that there plate of beef?” growled the burly host.
“Exactly what I look like I’m doing” Michael replied quickly “Taking it out to the man who ordered it. What did you think I would do? Eat it?” Without waiting for an answer, Michael strode off, carrying the aforementioned plate of beef.
When he placed the dish before the man who had requested it, the man wasted no time in getting to the point. “What’s the news?” he asked, as he began to make speedy inroads into the meat before him.
“To speak the truth, I don’t know the news myself.” He replied “I only repeat what I hear others say, and what others are saying is that Admiral Whiddake has captured the American admiral Anthony Mellino.”
“That he did, and a fine fight it was, too. I was there on the deck with his lordship, and I saw it all.”
“Really? Would you tell me about it?”
“Surely. Now, let us say this beef bone stands for Whiddake’s ships, and this carving knife shall do for the Americans. There was a heavy fog coming in off the coast, so neither side could see the other. So we waited until the Americans came to us. After a while, they made a mistake and decided to show lights. His lordship, when he sees that, orders all the boats out, so as to board and attack without damaging the prizes. A few minutes later, we stood on the deck of their flagship. they were completely surprised. I will give it to them that they did their best to try, because we lost many more men than we should have. The real fight, though, was between the officers themselves. It is widely known here that his lordship has no equal when comes to hand-to-hand combat, but, my, did Mellino give him a battle! It was up and down and all over the ship until the Americans’ colors were struck, more than half a glass later. All in all, we lost ten ships, but they lost half of theirs. Mellino is imprisoned now, but it won’t be long, in fact I’ve heard that it will be this afternoon, that Mellino is to be executed, on the theory that a dead man can’t attack you again.”
“Thank you, sir. I was worried that I might be too late to see it. I’ve come a long way.” Rising swiftly, Michael returned to the kitchen and left through the back door without stopping once. Five minutes later, he stopped a passerby, asked him where the American officer was being kept, borrowed a quill, and continued on his way. On his way to the prison, he passed a notice which was advertising Anthony’s impending execution. Tearing it from its place, he stopped long enough to scribble a short message. When he finally reached the prison, he dropped flat to the ground and whispered “Father? Anthony Mellino?”
A sleepy voice replied “And what do you want? I’ve had enough of you idlers about.”
“Well, you’ve changed.” Michael replied, flinging the message, with the knife stuck through it, into the cell, where it stuck in a crack exactly as Michael had wished it would. Then, Michael left without another word.
later that afternoon, Michael watched the world go by, as the scaffold was erected, the crowds arrived, and finally as his own father made the slow, humiliating ride to the end. Unnoticed by anyone as Anthony mounted the steps, Michael made his way to the rear of the scaffold, waiting for the moment.
“Anthony Mellino, you are therefore sentenced to hang by the neck until such time as you shall die.” pronounced the overdressed and overwigged judge. This was the line Michael had been waiting for. During the speech, he had climbed upon the platform itself and had begun to slice through the bonds around Anthony’s hands. The executioner had until this moment been too surprised to act, but now, seeing what was happening, he abruptly pulled the lever, causing Anthony to drop suddenly.
Reacting instinctively, Michael moved his blade in an instant, slashing the rope just under the knot of the noose, which caused Anthony to continue to fall until he hit the ground. Leaping down after him, Michael said “Quickly, father! I brought blades for both of us! If we move quickly we can get horses and be out of here today!”
Taking the sword Michael held out to him, Anthony said “You lead. I’ll hold the rear. But how are we going to get a ship to take us home?”
“We’ll find one! Just be careful not to kill anybody!”
With that, the two fugitives rushed out at the crowd, brandishing their blades. Wantonly knocking people aside, they had soon come to the tavern Michael had worked at that day. Rushing into the stable, they loosed the officer’s horse and one other, turned them toward the gate of the city, and rode off, as fast as they could go.
Days later, on the coast, Anthony and Michael found a smuggling cutter which would take them on before the mast. The ship left port that day, and was soon well on it’s way towards America.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Don't worry... There's more to come...

Chapter XXXII

Now, on the day after the events of the preceding chapter, we must return to the adventures of David, Gabriel, and the boys: Matt, Mark, Luke, John, and Raphael. We find them marching in a single file line, with David leading and Gabriel bringing up the rear. This pattern had begun the previous day, after it was discovered that some of the boys were having trouble keeping up with the rest, whereupon Gabriel placed himself in the rear to ensure that no one fell by the wayside. There was no speech between any members of the group. David had put a stop to that two days ago, telling the boys “You can walk and return to your homes, or you can waste your breath in idle chatter and possibly not get home.” Conversations had stopped mid-sentence and no one had spoken a word while on their feet since.
Suddenly, David called out “I see a town up ahead. You boys can all ride, can’t you?”
Mark, who thought this had been made clear long ago, burst out with “Can we all ride? Why are you asking us again? Do you think the only thing our father taught us was shooting? As for the others, you would know, being their uncle. Don’t let on that you think we can’t ride! I’ll show you some riding after we steal those horses!”
“We’ll have no more boasting! Silence in the ranks, there!”
And there was silence in the ranks for some time, until they had come to the town. Soon after they had entered this new town, David led the party into a blind alley, where he stopped and finally broke the silence. “You are all going to wait here until I return. I will go to discover whether there are any horses to be had in this town. I may be pursued, but that would surprise me. You are all to hold yourselves ready to fight or flee the moment I give the word. Matt, you know what I mean. If I don’t return within an hour, I’m lying dead in the street and you must go on yourselves. Trust in God.”
As David strode off and disappeared from sight around the corner, Mark stared after him, frustration showing clearly on his face. “Hmph! as if I would do something as stupid as to run out into the street alone! I’m not a boy anymore! Who does he think he is? Not father, that’s for sure.”
Matt, who was accustomed to outbursts such as this one from his brother, replied in an instant. “For your own good, stop kidding yourself, Mark. You know as well as I do that you’re likely to behave in just that manner when left to yourself. Secondly, he knows who he is, and that is the best help we’ve got, since father and captain Mellino have both gotten themselves killed to save us. He is our Godfather, on top of that, so you can be sure that he cares whether you stay alive or not.”
Mark’s response stunned everyone. “Don’t talk to me! Don’t talk to me about staying alive! Don’t talk to me about how I’d behave! I don’t want anything! From anyone! What I want is my own father, and not anyone elses', to talk to! I can’t talk to anyone else! Let me go!”
Matt again attempted to calm his mercurial brother. “But Mark, you can’t talk to to father any more! You and everyone else knows that! if you’ve got anything on your mind, our Godfather can hear it, if anyone should!”
“No! I’m not ready!” Without warning, Mark cocked his arm and shot it forward, straight into Matt’s face. As Matt fell heavily to the ground, he heard Mark running off, followed by the sound of Gabriel calling “John! Raphael! Tend to Matt! Luke and I will bring Mark back!”
Matt remained silent until he saw the other boys leaning over him. While they were looking him over to discover where he been hurt most, he said “I thought I had learned everything about him... until now... I think I understand him better now because he struck me than I would have had he not done so.”
“What does being laid out in the street by your own brother tell you about him, then?” asked John, reaching into his pocket for his handkerchief and handing to Matt.
“He misses our father far more than I do. I missed him badly in the beginning, and gradually came to understand why it happened as it did. Also, I spent much of my life growing up in my Godfather’s house, where I had a second father during the years that my true father was gone. Mark, on the other hand, was forced to become the man of the house at a young age, and has obviously been clinging to his memories of the years before father left, in the hope that after all this was finished, he could return to those times. But throughout all our travels, from the beginning, he was afraid that he would lose father at some point along the way, but even so, he fell into despair because of it. He is still struggling to grasp the idea that father knew what he was getting into and could have chosen to die as he did. Now our roles are reversed, and I must bring him out of his darkness, just as he brought me out of mine.”
As Matt concluded, John spoke up once more. “You’ve said more than you needed to. My father would tell you to stop talking now and rest. I’ll bring you some water.”
A moment later, Matt sat up, looking out toward the road by which half the party had left the area. When he had been sitting there for five minutes, he caught sight of David returning.
David stopped short when he noticed that his brother and his son were missing, along with Mark. “What happened here? Do we have to scour the town to find the others now? Where have they gone?”
Raphael, who had been silent until this moment, replied “As soon as you left, Mark lost his temper like we’ve never seen it before. “Who does he think he is? He’s not my father! I’m not a boy! I can fend for myself!’ When Matt tried to reason with him, he lost it completely, punched Matt in the face, and ran off. Uncle Gabriel took Luke with him to bring Mark back, by force if necessary.”
“Well then, follow me. We’re sure to meet them on the way. I’ve found provisions and mounts. Portugal is no more than a day’s ride farther, and from there we can find a ship which will take us home.”
Without further speech, David turned and strode away. The boys, who were anxious to discover what had become of Mark, Luke, and Gabriel, quickly hurried after him. They had been walking for the past ten minutes when they met Gabriel and Luke returning, carrying Mark, who was obviously unconscious. Before anyone had a chance to ask, Gabriel explained. “He ran from us, and kept running from us. But he had forgotten that he can’t run as well as he used to. When we caught up, he tried to fight, which is why I brought Luke along. When the right moment came, Luke turned out his lights, and we’ve been carrying him since that time.”
Relief evident in his voice, Matt replied “Well, now that we’re all back together again, we can continue straight on. We’ll have to wait for Mark to wake up, though.”
David, who was suddenly agitated by this statement, said “Wait right here. I will be back soon.” Nobody spoke while David was absent. They were all too busy trying to explain his abrupt departure in their own thoughts. But before any of them had decided what he was doing, David was back, carrying a large bucket of water. He splashed the contents over Mark, who immediately woke with a start and fell out of Gabriel and Luke’s arms.
Sprawled on the ground, Mark looked around at the others awkwardly, a confused expression evident on his face. It soon became apparent that he could not remember what had happened only a few minutes before. “Brrr, that’s cold. Why’d you have to soak me like that, Mr. Mellino? What have I done to deserve it? At least it’s better than where I was. Why am I on the ground, anyhow?”
“Alright,” David answered “Which do you want first? The answers to your questions, or to give us the answer to our question; where have you been?” As he said this, David had shifted position until he was staring straight down into Mark’s face and could be equally sure that Mark was staring straight up at him.
There was a moment of tense silence. It appeared that Mark had not fully understood David’s question. Growing exasperated, David finally exclaimed “Alright! You punched your brother and ran away in a rage, Luke had to knock you out to bring you back, and you fell on the ground when the cold water woke you up. That’s our story. What’s yours?”
“I don’t really remember... I was on our ship... I was upset because I didn’t have anyone to talk to, because for some reason Matt wasn’t there... I couldn’t think of anything else to do with myself... I wanted to be free... So I leapt overboard... I’m not sure I wanted to come back up...”
“Thank God you’re yourself again after that. I’ll let you alone to talk to Matt, but you should be better for this experience.”
Rising from the ground slowly, Mark stood up and walked over to Matt, who was standing slightly behind everyone else. Extending a hand to his brother, Mark admitted “You always know what should be done, Matt. Whether or not I’m better than you are at something, I should always listen to what you have to say. Forgive me for striking you like that.”
Sincerely moved by this admission, which Mark had never made before, Matt replied “I’ve already forgiven you. If you learn to admit your weaknesses, because there’s no doubt you have some too, you’ll be much happier throughout your life. Does that sound good to you?”
“It does.” Turning to David, Mark said “Sir, we’d appreciate it if you and the others were to go on ahead. This is between the two of us.”
David simply nodded and waved his family forward. Once everyone had begun walking, Mark turned to Matt and said “All right, I’m ready. What is there to explain? I’ve had an epiphany, if that’s the right term, and I’m ready to talk.”
“All right then. I want to hear it from you. Why have you always thought it was so important to hide your feelings from everyone?”
“To tell the truth, I’m not sure if I really know myself anymore, because I’ve been that way for years. When we were twelve or thirteen, I don’t remember exactly, father told me he was a spy and that was why he was away so often. He said that when one is a spy, whether one can feign a feeling at a particular time could be the difference between life and death. I was young. I almost forgot that he was a spy, but I still remember the words: feigning one’s feelings can save one’s life. I took those to heart, and retreated within myself, longing to follow father and make fools of Englishmen and Spaniards.”
“You’ve done your part. We separated when we were ten and didn’t understand why at the time. Did father tell you? What were you learning while I was learning how to be a diplomatic God-fearing gentleman and not much else?” Matt asked in reply, laughing a little as he said this.
“Me?” replied Mark “I didn’t learn diplomacy. I learned how to be a God-fearing gentleman who can speak three languages, draw a pistol in a blink of an eye, and put a bullet onto a thimble from twenty yards away, besides learning how to be sure that no one was ever sure was I was thinking!” At this, both boys began to laugh harder than they had in years.
“I was poring over books and learning how to curb impulsive people like you, and didn’t even know I would need to, meanwhile, you were learning how to be unpredictable, impulsive, and dangerous! Do you think father liked the way we turned out?” Matt asked, still laughing.
“I think he did. Remember, he was the one who taught me how to hide my emotions. I could read it in his face. He had told me before that the chances were high that he would die on a mission, but I still persisted in hoping that he would make it through and return to the days before he left. When he died, it broke me. You could tell. By today, I could see that, but I was still too proud to admit it. I was so proud, and so disheartened by the fact that you knew, that I struck you and ran instead of explaining. Later, it was surely after Luke cornered me and knocked me out, I heard other words of father going through my head, the ones I should have remembered. He knew, as you will know when I tell you what he said to me when we were twelve, just before he left for the last time: If you take Matt’s advice, you’ll live long and happily. If you don’t, you’ll die early. I am teaching you these skills so you will be able to save the others when you need to.”
“Really? Ah... Now I remember a time in the same year when he came to visit our Godfather and I. He took me aside and said to me: I left you here so at least one of you would know where you are going and what must be done to get there. Mark can get the two of you through your natural life, but you are the one who can keep both of you on the right path. When you meet Mark again, remember that he has been taught not to let anyone know what he thinks, and he tends to make light of that which should be serious. I raised him that way so that you would learn to assert yourself, and so he would learn to take advice. Remember this too; you are stronger and wiser than you know yourself. I see it in you. It is up to the two of you to heed my words and use them to help each other survive throughout your life.”
As both boys began to appreciate the meaning of their father’s words to each of them, they fell silent, contemplating on the wisdom in their own particular messages. After several minutes, when they had reached the inn yard where the horses stood waiting, Mark turned to Matt and suddenly threw an arm around his shoulders, saying “Never forget. Neither of us can forget. If we forget, we are lost. If we remember, we shall succeed as no man has before!”
“Diplomatic and philosophical now, are we?” Matt asked, grinning from ear to ear.
“No” Mark answered “I just know what’s what better than I used to. You have my eternal gratitude, Luke!”
“Why?” Luke asked from his saddle in the middle of the line.
“For knocking my head on straight, of course!” Mark called back, laughing and running to mount a horse near the front of the line. “Come on Matt! Ride behind me!”

An Update On My Writing

I thought my followers might appreciate knowing when they can expect to see new episodes of any stories I am posting. I will also tell you now what point the active stories have reached. All new episodes will be posted on the day they are completed, or during Lent, on a Sunday.

1. Reunions & Destinies: My second-longest  overall and longest active story, this tale tells of the adventures of The Scarlet Pimpernel and his brothers as they take to the seas to save America from the War of 1812 and a half. It is ongoing and, to date, consists of 32 chapters and 75 pages. The current chapter (the one not yet posted) continues the adventures of David, Gabriel, and the sons.
2.  Pirates Of The Seven Seas: The Forbidden Sand: This is a plot that The Scarlet Pimpernel sent to me when I told him I needed more plots to write. I have expanded the original story, and am writing it in a short-story phase style. The story to date consists of 8 chapters and 12 pages. The upcoming chapter tells how McNeal fails to capture the fugitives.
3. Last and least, The Elevator To Mars: I know, Scarlet Pimpernel, you don't like it, but Velvin and a friend of mine who does not blog have said I should continue it, so I will. This is simply a ridiculous story which I made up for no reason at all and will not be longer than four parts. The second part tells the progress and outcome of the interrogation conducted by the clueless Martians.
4. My longest work, which I will not yet disclose the name of, consists of 32 chapters on 130 pages. I will release it following the completion of the three titles above and the release of a publicity post or two. I would greatly appreciate it if my followers were to treat those posts as tags, and I will say so again within the posts themselves.

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter XXXI

Dameon was walking down a long, empty, and inexplicably bright hallway. He was wearing his full dress uniform, holding his hat under his left arm. He seemed to have forgotten his sword, but either had not noticed its absence, or had decided that it was totally unnecessary.
He was walking quickly, as if he was required to reach the end of the hall by a certain time, and was running late. A short time later, he came to a large door situated at the extreme end of the passage. Just as with the corridor itself, there was nothing striking about the door besides its unusual brightness, as if a lamp which had been built into the wood had been turned on. He tried the handle. It was locked. Knocking twice, he waited.
After a few moments, the door was opened by none other than Joseph Sponsler. But, instead of moving aside to let him enter, Joseph spoke, saying “How came you here? You have not been summoned yet.”
After a moment, Dameon heard himself reply “I wished to come here, so I did. Why can I not enter?”
“I am not permitted to answer directly. I am permitted to say only this: go, your wife wishes to speak to you. She has already come to us to ask when you would come.”
“What?! My wife’s been dead for five years now! How can I speak to her?”
“Now do you see? You saw Coinhara shoot me with your own eyes. I am dead myself. So are all these others.” At that, Dameon recognized the faces of half a dozen other men he had known. “We can not start without you, but you may not pass through the door before your time has come. Your wife will be sent to you. Then, you may enter. Go back now.”
As Joseph began to close the door, Dameon asked quickly “May I ask you one question?”
“One question, and no more.”
“You gained admittance here because you died without defending yourself. Must I do the same?”
“Those were my orders. I have heard of no similar orders concerning your admittance. Yes, you may fight to the last. You will not, however, gain immediate admission until your wife comes for you. Keep yourself alive until that time.” With that, Joseph closed the door. It, surprisingly to Dameon, did not make any sound.
Dameon stood beside the door for a minute or two, taking in what had been said. Then, he suddenly turned and began to run down the hall, his heavy boots making no noise in the silent passage. But he did not pause to wonder at this, instead continuing onward as fast as he could go, back toward however little time on Earth was left to him, secure in the knowledge that he would know when he was to walk through this hall again. And that time, the bright door behind which sat seven or more men he had liked throughout his life, would open for him, and he would pass through.
When Dameon woke from his dream, he saw that the Spanish troops were already up and had almost completed the minor preparations necessary prior to leaving the camp. Raising himself from his prostrate position, he leaned his back against the nearest tree and looked out upon the world.
The world. The Earth. The place which God had made as the place of Man’s residence whilst he endeavored to earn his way back to the place where he truly belonged. Man truly belonged there, but not all men understood, and not all men who understood tried to gain entrance. Dameon knew well which party he stood with, and gained immeasurable satisfaction from the knowledge that he had both tried to gain to gain entrance and been granted it. But even as he sat there somewhere in Spain, knowing full well that his doom would come soon, he began to wonder if he really wanted to leave the world so soon. He wished that he had been allowed to see his house, his land, and his brothers once more, all together. He wished he could tell them all why he had decided to go on to certain doom. But then he remembered: He didn’t truly know himself why he had decided that he wasn’t meant to go home with the others. And then he remembered another point: It was because of the call. The call that he had been reminded of in the dream he had just come out of. His time was drawing to a close. It was not his lot to return home and pass on peacefully in the company of friends. Instead, he was called to pass on while surrounded by foes, fighting to the last. At the conclusion of this thought, he rose and went toward the horse which had been saddled for him. Mounting silently, he sat straight in the saddle, determined to give a good account of himself to the last minute of his time.
As he sat upon the horse, the leader of the Spaniards approached him, saying “Another day’s ride and we shall reach the capital. Then we may see how well you dance at the end of a rope!”
“I ask too late, but why are you sure that you must hang me?” Dameon replied, looking down at the Spaniard, who was astonished that the American had never shown fear, regardless of how many times he been threatened with this awful mode of death.
“Why? Because you are an American, and you have brought war against us, and you have done this without making the proper declarations!” shouted the Spanish Captain, recovering his composure a moment too late.
Restraining the mirth he felt after hearing his enemy’s first statement, Dameon calmly replied “Really? I was not aware that I had to tell all the world I was an American. What you do to me if I told you I am also Scottish? Would that merit a hanging, or just being shot right here? As for the other reasons, my actions were due to my orders. As a military man yourself, you can hardly blame me for doing what my orders told me to do.” Seeing no response to this last statement, the Spanish captain mounted his own horse, shouted “Move! To Madrid!” and rode off to the head of the column.

Chapter Thirty

Here it is. The 30th chapter of Reunions and Destinies. It is, unfortunately, the last you will see for I don't know how long. (I am suffering from a lack of inspiration involving any and all three of the stories I am working on.)


Chapter XXX

The fight had been long, and hard. Anthony had never met such a worthy opponent as the British lord whose prisoner he was now. They had fought in the great cabin, out onto the deck, and even on the quarterdeck, each giving as good as he got. While the Admirals fought, the British marines had overwhelmed Anthony’s crew. Once this was done, they had lined up alongside the sides to watch, out of respect for Anthony’s skill. But finally, after what felt like hours, after they had been fighting on the quarterdeck for several minutes, Admiral Whiddake backed Anthony against the stern rail, close by the flagstaff. Even as he fended off Anthony’s attack, Whiddake slashed at the flagstaff, severing the rope which raised and lowered the colors. When he saw the colors fall, Anthony knew that the only way to retain his honor was to surrender immediately. Accordingly, he gave up his swords as soon as he was free.
That had been an hour ago. Now, Anthony sat, a prisoner, in one of the smaller cabins usually occupied by a member of the gunroom mess. Since the moment he had been led inside, and a sentry posted outside the door, Anthony had entertained only one thought; would any of his brothers, or even his son, arrive in London in time to rescue him? For since he had surrendered honorably, he was also bound by honor not to attempt an escape; instead he must wait for a friend to come to his aid.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a midshipman opening the door of the cabin and announcing “His Lordship requests that Admiral Mellino join him in his cabin, directly.”
“One moment, and I am with you.” Anthony replied, reaching for his best coat. Shedding the comparatively shabby battle-coat he had been wearing since his capture and throwing it over his sea-chest, he pulled on the other, on which the epaulettes still shined from the shoulders, as he did not wear it often. Having done this, he left the cabin, slightly behind the messenger.
When they arrived at the door of the great cabin, the midshipman opened the door with no ceremony. Anthony entered unannounced, hearing the door shut fast behind him. As he strode to the seat set aside for him, he heard the British captain’s greeting.
“Ah… Mellino… I am so glad you could join us…”
Giving a sarcastic laugh, Anthony replied “How could I refuse, being as it were imprisoned aboard your ship?”
“I know,” rejoined Whiddake “You could not. But Captains do not order their prisoners to present themselves. Please to present this excellent spotted dog to your palate.” Cutting an enormous piece from the pudding in front of him, he dropped it on Anthony’s plate.
When they had made their way through the pudding and had begun on a noble side of roast beef, Whiddake spoke again. “So you are an Admiral? You were a mere captain when you swept through our yards not two years back. You could not have earned your flag in so short a time? Or have you Americans done away with that glorious institution, the Admiralty list?”
“It seems we have. I was told on sight to hoist my flag. But we both know that does not happen, except under the most exceptional circumstances. But perhaps our Congress thought that catching the British navy unawares and disabling it with one ship is a feat worthy of a flag.”
“I must admit, taking our high standards into account, it is” ceded Whiddake, calling for wine. “In fact, it would have been so, had it been accomplished against any other country. Where is the wine, you lubbers?!”
While they waited for the drink to come, Whiddake inquired “So, what do you do when you do not have us Englishmen to fight against?”
“I am not a wealthy man. I manage what you might call a pawnshop on a back street where I live. At times, I, for want of a better word, quack like a duck.”
“And what does that sound like, may I ask?”
By way of explanation, Anthony launched into his best duck voice, reciting the lines to “Heart of Oak” until Whiddake began to laugh hard enough to cover Anthony’s own voice.
“You mean to say that you have never heard a duck?”
“I have been at sea almost continuously since the age of ten. I do not live where ducks are to be heard.”
By this time, the steward had brought the wine, and gave each man a glass. Upon asking “Do the officers have their shares?”, the British Admiral ran up the steps leading to the deck and called to the world at large “To the King!”
As all the British officers, echoed their captain, Anthony raised his glass, cried “To the President!” in a voice louder than his counterpart’s, and drank his draft down in one.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nothing against Tony, of course...;D

Chapter XXIX

In the week since Michael had perpetrated his escape from the slave ship, he had had the ship poled back down the river, maneuvering it so surprisingly easily that he had the ship back out in the open sea in only three days. Once there he was stuck in an awful predicament. He had no time or way of teaching the Africans how to manage a ship properly, but if he switched them with the crew and sent them down to row again, he would nullify his impulsive attempt to give them freedom. He had thought of this problem before they reached the coast because he had very little need for any propulsion but oars until that point. Finally, after discussing the problem with John Crane, Michael resolved to have the ship turned back toward land, run it aground, and let everyone go their own ways.
Even though they not far from the coast, so close, in fact, that they could still see it, it took the crew of slavers pulling the oars the better part of two days to reach the shore once more. As soon as they had beached the ship, Michael made sure no one remained on board. He had to force most of the crew, those who wanted to float the ship once more and return to their trade, away on the point of a knife. The liberated Africans, though, fled in a body as soon as the ship touched land. Michael and John Crane waited until the last of the reluctantly beached slavers had disappeared into the distance before they finally disembarked themselves.
Once they had finally descended to the shore, Michael asked his fellow traveler “Have you got flint?”
“Here. I nearly always carry some hidden in my bag. The extravagant clothes were really just a cover for the business deals of those despicable men who used to own this ship.” Crane replied, tossing a small bag across to Michael, who dug through it until he had found what he wanted. With the flint in hand, Michael drew one of his knives and begun striking it with the piece of flint.
“Why do you want a fire now, in this heat?” Crane inquired, surprised at the boy’s action.
“Had a feeling some of those slavers would hang around, waiting for us to leave so they could float their ship again without hindrance. This’ll put a stop to that.” Michael replied calmly, reaching out to pull in a large piece of driftwood. His sparks soon caught on the dried out wood. When they were well established, he picked up the torch and heaved it with all his strength toward the vessel in which he had lately honed his muscles, and his desire for revenge against England.
The pair watched silently for several minutes as the fire took hold and began to burn the ship. Finally, John Crane broke the silence, asking Michael “What are you planning to do, now that you have determined to remain on land?”
“My part in defeating England, of course. I may do it easily enough, as I am only a boy, and no man knows who I am. It’s my father they’re after.”
Without another word, Michael turned away from the shore and began to march inland, back toward the cities. He resolved to find the mouth of the Thames, which he had lately brought his ship out of, and follow its course back by foot until he had reached the heart of London. He did not think of what he would do once he had arrived there, as he trusted that by that time his father would have reached England and he, Michael, could, by inquires, eventually find him and come back aboard his father’s ship.
John Crane, finding himself left alone on the shore with no company besides a burning hulk, hurried after the boy, throwing off his coat to save the weight of carrying the nearly useless article. When he had caught up with him nearly two hundred yards later, he said “Your plan seems good enough, in theory, but what shall you do if your father never arrives?”
“He defeated the English last time. He’ll want to do it again, just to prove he can. Which leaves me in no doubt that he will come to London.”
“Why would he? He is a man of the sea. The Thames is not the sea. And in defense of my countrymen, I believe they will be on the watch to catch him this time, which leaves open the possibility that he will come to London; only not in the manner he might wish.”
Michael did not have an answer to this statement, so he held his silence. After walking for nearly an hour, they stopped on the edge of a field, watching the farmhouse they could see about two hundred yards farther inland.
“What do you make of it?” Michael asked John Crane “Is anybody home?”
“Not by any sign that I can make out. I believe it is safe to approach more closely.”
Without another word, they proceeded to approach the cottage, throwing themselves flat upon the ground at intervals of about ten feet. But before they could reach the house, they were spotted by the farmer, who had been away collecting wood for the night’s fire. “You there! Halt! What are you doing, creeping up on my house like a pair of robbers?!”
From his position on the ground, Michael pulled one of his knives out from his belt and asked “Should I?”
“Don’t be stupid, boy.” Crane replied in a frustrated tone. “We aren’t here to kill everyone we meet. I will handle him.” Rising from the ground, Crane strode toward the farmer, who had not moved from his position. “Greetings, man. We did not mean any harm to you or yours. We only meant to inquire the distance to the nearest post station where we could pay for horses.”
“Really? That is hard to believe, seeing as I caught you lurking about instead o’ coming to me front door. But as you mean no harm, I’ll let you go. The town is about two miles farther along the road. The inn you want is the first you come to from this side of the town.”
“Thank you. Come now, boy!”
Michael rose quickly and ran to catch up with Crane, who was already walking away toward the road.
“When we’ve reached the town, what will we do?”
“I will decide that when we have come that far, if you are so good as to restrain your hand from jumping to those knives every time we see someone. I am not doing this out of any regard for anyone; only because you claim your father is an Admiral bound for England and I have the decency not to leave you to wander through the countryside till you die of hunger.” replied Crane in a frustrated tone.
“I decided to go this way! I could fend for myself well enough if you weren’t following me around everywhere!” Michael retorted hotly.
Crane, who had been struggling to keep his temper in check while witnessing Michael’s impulsive, I-can-do-what-I-like- nothing-will-ever go-wrong manner, could no longer hold it in and finally exploded now. “Don’t act that way again! To me! Or your father! Or anybody else! If you ever get home, you can thank me then! I expect you to follow me, and listen to me, and you will not give me any more cheek about how you are so all-fired perfect and could do anything you like without any help! You are not the hero you think you are, you would not get back to your father without any help, as you have no money, and you would surely not survive if you insist as you do that you must draw your blades on everyone you see! Come along!”
Stunned into silence, (no one had ever berated him so loudly before) Michael came, albeit slowly.
Neither of the travelers spoke a word until they reached the edge of the town, nearly two miles off. Once they had arrived, Crane continued walking until they had reached the inn the farmer had named. When they reached the place, they lost no time in entering and seating themselves at the nearest empty table.
Catching the eye of the landlord, Crane called out “Ale and a plate of beef!”
After a short time, the landlord came to their table, bringing the food and drink Crane had called for. Looking at Michael, the man asked “Is not the boy also hungry?”
“He says” Crane replied as he began to carve his meat “he can fend for himself if I let him. I’m letting him.”
“Well then, boy,” said the landlord when he heard this “you’d best come along with me to the kitchen. We’ll find something for you in there.”
When Michael hesitated, Crane exclaimed “Go on! You’re not getting any of this!”
His course determined by Crane’s emphatic refusal, Michael followed the owner into the kitchen, where he was seated at a small table and a plate of leftovers from recent orders was shoved in front of him.
“Eat that. We don’t spare more for people who don’t pay.”
Picking at the diverse jumble on the plate, Michael asked “Do you know how long it would take to reach London?”
“I’ve never gone that far myself, so I can’t tell you. Why?”
“I’ve been separated from my father. I was told he would make for London. When I get there I can find him. What news of the war?”
“The war? You ask about the war? But I thought everyone had heard of the British victory several days ago!” The owner replied in astonishment.
“Victory? Is the war over, then?”
“No, not over. But if you remember the last one, capturing Anthony Mellino may well be counted as an omen of our impending success over America this time.”
Michael did not wait to hear any more. Leaping up, he ran through the building, out the door, and had leaped upon the post horse and ridden off in the direction he had been traveling, before anybody could lay a hand on him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

David is one great backwoods tracker...lol

Chapter XXVIII

The date was two days after the events described in the previous chapter. David had called a halt to his party’s march in the early morning. It was now nearly noon and the twins had not yet risen. David, who was keeping watch along with Gabriel, remarked “It appears to me that Joseph’s boys don’t have the long wind needed to keep ahead of our pursuers. But you know we can’t leave them. We’re honor - bound to stay by them, and we’re to die if we have to.”
“We both know that well enough. You’re saying that just to hear yourself talk in this silence.” Gabriel replied, in a tone meant somehow to convey both exasperation and amusement. Then he looked up to see a dust cloud moving quickly down the road towards them. “Look! We’ve been found! We must hurry! We’ll carry the boys if we have to, but we must leave!”
Startled by Gabriel’s sudden excitement, David looked up and spotted the dust cloud in his turn. A moment later, he was up, rushing to Mark’s side. Heaving the boy onto his shoulders, after having attempted to rouse him and discovering that he seemed to be an exceptionally deep sleeper, David began running down the road as hard as he could while carrying the load. When he had gotten a few yards away from their camp, Mark woke up. Stopping to set him on his own feet once more, David heard the voices of the group running after them.
“No, Father! Don’t leave us! We can’t go on much longer!”
David, who was about to start running once more, instead stopped where he was and shouted to Gabriel, who was several yards ahead with Matt. “Gabe! Stop! It’s our boys, and they’re exhausted!”
Gabriel, coming to an abrupt halt when David’s words reached him, nearly fell over under Matt’s weight. Helping him down, he called back to David. “What’s that? Our boys?! How did they manage to find us so quickly? We had better stop where we are, because they’ll need some hot food!”
A moment later, David, Gabriel and the twins had turned back and were returning to the campsite they had left only minutes ago. Once there, they found Luke, John, and Raphael sprawled out on the grass around the remains of the cooking fire David had made that morning. David immediately reached for his water, passing it to his son. “Not too much, or you’ll soon feel worse than you did. When you’ve eaten, you can explain yourselves.” With that, he began attempting to revive his fire.
Nearly half an hour later, after all the boys had eaten as much as they felt they could handle, David began questioning them. “First of all, tell me why you’re here.”
“We were ordered to come after you.”
“Does your Uncle want us to return?”
“No.”
“Where is he now?”
“We can not know that, but our last sight of was about twenty miles outside a city where we had been captured. The Spaniards were taking us to the capital.”
“You were captured?”
“Yes, but we escaped from the prison, thanks to Raphael. Later they surprised and recaptured us, then took us out of the city.”
“Why did he not come with you?”
“I urged him to several times, father, but he appears to consider it a slight upon his honor to escape this time. He seemed depressed, but also to believe that living to return was not his lot.”
David turned to Gabriel and the boys, who had been standing a few yards away, looking up the road. “Did you hear that? Dameon has given himself up to buy us time to escape, in the hope that having caught him, the Spaniards will disregard the rest of us. Let us make good use of the time. Mark, Matt, do you feel you can carry one of the others?”
Taking long looks at the younger boys seated around the fire, the twins replied “We believe we can.”
“Then do that and let’s go. We can’t waste the time that is costing a good man his life for no other reason.”
As the twins each hoisted one of the others onto their backs, David began to cover the traces of the morning’s camp. After he had extinguished the fire, covered their tracks, and spent nearly half an hour laying a false trail while the others waited silently several feet from the original camp, he returned, taking up the position of rearguard and ordering the rest to start ahead of him.
“Go on! We must move! The Spaniards use dogs, and if they reach this point within the next three days, they’ll find us, false trails or no!” Checking his gun, he began following after the others, walking backwards the whole time.
When they had marched in silence for nearly half an hour, mark was forced to put down his passenger. As he squatted to allow an easier descent from his tall frame, he whispered “I’m afraid I can’t carry you any farther. From here, it’ll be hard enough for me to keep up. My breath is running short.”
Sliding down to the ground, Luke answered “I can carry my own weight.”
The whole party, wary of any noise, continued walking in silence. Matt had fallen back to accompany Mark. Mark was now leaning on Matt’s shoulder, gasping for breath. “I need to stop. I can not continue without a rest.”
“Then I’m stopping with you. I’ll get our Godfather to stay with us as our guard and guide.”
Accordingly, Matt left Mark momentarily to make the request to David. Dropping back to their position, David replied “Of course I will. Wouldn’t be decent if I didn’t.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter XXVII

Dameon woke up slowly. When he was fully awake, he noticed two things: he was alone, and his surroundings were so dark that he could barely make out his own feet. It was then that he noticed that he was sitting, leaning against a cold stone wall. Also, that his arms were numb; so much so that he had barely noticed that he still had arms. He attempted to bring them down from their position above his head. The attempt was met with an ominous clanking noise. Next, he tried to move his feet, one after the other. Both came slowly, as if they had been attached to heavy chains. This was true. When he realized this, Dameon let his face fall down onto one of his shoulders and said quietly “It is your will, Lord. I can not save myself. I thank you for the life I have led. Only keep the boys safe, that is all I ask.” With that, he drifted off to sleep.
It seemed like only minutes later when two Spanish guards opened the door to Dameon’s cell, slamming it loudly. This woke Dameon, startled out of a dream. Knowing that they would not answer his inquires, he remained silent as they unlocked his wrists and, each taking an arm, dragged him out of the cell.
When they finally reached the outside, Dameon looked up for the first time. He noticed that the position of the sun was nine o’clock. It had been at least six hours since he had last been awake. The next thing he noticed was that someone was calling his name. He looked up again. All of the boys were already mounted on horses which were tied to other horses being ridden by more Spanish guards. The two who were carrying Dameon hoisted him onto a waiting steed which was already tied between two others. After securing Dameon, the two guards climbed aboard the final two waiting horses and dug their heels into the mounts’ sides, leading the procession.
As they rode, Dameon could hear snatches of the boys’ conversations drifting forward to his ears. “…wish the Sponslers hadn’t left. If Mark were around, we would’ve captured these guards instead of them capturing us.”
Two other voices replied “Not to mention our fathers, who would’ve also given them more than they asked for.”
“Don’t worry. We can do without them. We’re not that stupid.”
At this point, Dameon heard one of the guards cut in. “You have no need to worry either. We will catch your friends and punish them the same way that we have in mind for you.” This caused the boys to fall silent as they began to think about everything that they had done, and were still hoping to do.
Dameon, who was feeling gloomy enough to welcome the silence of the next hour, was thinking along the same lines. He thought back to his time in America when he had first met each of his friends. He began to sigh in resignation as he remembered the places and faces he would never again see. But a moment later, he arose out of his dejection with the thought “I have lived honorably, and I have given myself up to the Lord. Why should I be miserable?” At this thought, he raised his head and began to look about with an air of expectation, as if he were expecting to meet one of those old friends of whom he had just been thinking on the path.
A short time later, the party arrived at the main gate. As it was still dark, they were stopped by a watchman, who asked “Who goes there?”
One of the boys, who had not fallen asleep yet, quickly retorted “Why do you care if anybody is leaving? They’re more dangerous inside the city!”
Dameon heard the hard slap that accompanied the guard’s reply “We have Dameon Mellino, and most of his family. We are taking them to Madrid.”
“You have who? Dameon Mellino? This is cause for a festival.”
“Later. Now let us pass.”
Passing through the gates, the party rode hard until the sun had risen. Two hours after sunrise, the guards halted and tethered their horses to the nearest trees, allowing the prisoners a short time to eat and stretch their aching legs before continuing the journey toward their doom. As Dameon was standing at the edge of the camp, leaning against a tree and watching the guards, one of the boys moved close enough t him to ask “Sir, do you think we can try to escape later?”
His mind already made up, Dameon firmly answered “No. It is no use. They refuse to hold themselves back any longer, and will shoot to kill if you try to run off. You must accept this as the case, and trust that all is as the Lord wills for you.”
A moment later, the guards rose once more, shouting “Ustedes! Estamos montar los caballos, rapidamente! ( lit: “You (plural) mount the horses, quickly!”) and hustling the boys onto the horses once more. When they came for Dameon, he, who had picked up some Spanish before this time, asked them “Porque estan todos moviendo muy rapidamente? (lit: Why is everyone moving very fast?)”
The Spanish Officers did not answer his question, merely shouting “Montar! (Mount!) repeatedly until he complied. A moment later, the whole party was once again riding hard down the trail.
Nothing more of any consequence occurred for several hours after this respite, until noon, at which time the guards halted once more observe the siesta hour, a time at which no Spaniard would be moving unless his occupation of the moment were of the greatest importance. Accordingly, as their present occupation did not fall under that definition, the Spaniards guarding Dameon and the boys dismounted and tied their horses to convenient trees, and proceeded to lay down under the trees, spread out over a large area to surround their prisoners, whom they had placed in the center of the circle. Observing this, Luke approached his uncle once more.
“Sir! We should make our escape now. We will be far ahead before they are ready to follow us!”
“No! We shall not break away now! Are you insane? We try that and they fire on us!–Where are you going?” This conclusion was prompted by Dameon’s looking up just in time to see Luke’s flaming hair disappear into the trees on the other side of the path. He could just catch the answer Luke threw back in his direction.
“You won’t leave? I can’t take this anymore! I’m following my father! He taught me to follow tracks, and to live for others!”
It was a few moments before Dameon could react, stunned as he was by Luke’s harsh rebuke. When he recovered, he saw that the remaining boys: Raphael, and his own son, John, were staring at him, waiting for orders. Nearly choking on the words, he spat out something he had privately wished that he would never have to say “He’s right. I can tell you that that your uncle did teach him as he said, and he did it well. Leave now. I order you to let me continue on as a prisoner alone. You should not have to witness the fate awaiting me. That’s an order! Leave! Your Uncles will get you home, but you will have to travel hard to catch up with them before they depart with the Sponslers and without you. You are not far off. All of us were traveling close by this place not long ago. Leeeave!”
Dameon could hear the boys retreating, abandoning him, as he fell to his knees choking on emotions he refused to show.
Nearly an hour later, after the Spaniards had dozed through the hour of high noon, and Dameon had been sitting stoically silent for nearly half an hour, the Spanish Captain rose, dusted himself off, shook his head, swept his hat up from the ground, and set about berating his men, most of whom were still sleeping. When he had succeeded in this task, he turned to Dameon, shouting at him in Spanish. “Usted! Mir hacia arriba! Usted esta una mujer! Hombres fuertes no puede estan triste!” After a pause, the Officer looked around and finally noticed that the boys had disappeared. He continued “Donde estan sus ninos? Hablar o usted esta muerte!” (lit: You! Look toward above! You are a woman! Strong men cannot be sad! Where are your boys? Speak or you are dea(d!) )
To this demand, Dameon only answered “Yo no va a hablar. Yo estoy muerte, porque yo no va a hablar que donde estan mi ninos.” (lit: I will not speak. I am dea(d), because I will not speak of where my boys are.)
At this response, the Spanish Officer leaped forward, brandishing a pistol, and exclaimed “Correctemente!” Speaking in English once more, he continued “You were, anyway, for we are taking you to the Capital to hang!”

Chapter Twenty-Six

It's never been so easy to escape from prison... People would think you were just resting in there... lol

Chapter XXVI

It had been three days since Dameon and the boys he was watching over had been captured by the horse guards outside the city of San Dinola. The reader my remember that the group had been locked up in the prison within an hour of their capture, and were now awaiting the time when they would be transported back to the capital to be “punished”. Another note that may be remembered is that Raphael, unlike the others, had remained quiet until his outburst about not being able to think. Since that time he had been quiet once more, until now.
“Bother everything! There isn’t a way out of this place if you haven’t got something with you when you come in, and they searched us thoroughly!” he paused. When the others heard him again, he was standing on his cot looking through his barred, ground-level window hole. “Aha! Now if I could only reach his belt…” at this point, Raphael, who was very strong in comparison to his size, was dangling from the window bars using only one hand. He was also silent again, which caused the other prisoners to show signs of breaking under the stress.
Suddenly, Dameon and the other three boys heard a loud dull sound issue from Raphael’s cell, which was quickly followed by the occupant’s voice exclaiming “Oh! My everything! Yes! It came with me and it hasn’t killed me! We’ll be out within the day as soon as I get some rest!”
It was several hours later when Dameon was awakened out of his sleep by a loud clang which sounded oddly like a cell door shutting. Opening his eyes, he dug his knuckles into his eyeballs to wake up properly, sat up, and immediately saw that Raphael was standing beside his cot and must have caused the noise.
“I apologize for the noise, sir. As you see, I have just walked out of my own cell and proceeded to release the other prisoners.” Said Raphael in a monotone so solemn he sounded as if he were an especially boring lecture hall speaker who wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss if his audience was snoring. As he spoke he stowed a knife in his belt and rubbed his hands together as if the object was filthy.
“Why are you talking like that? Speak properly!” By this time, Dameon was standing in front of the boy and glaring.
“Very well, sir. I will follow your orders to the letter. Shall I begin releasing prisoners now?”
“Yes. Get started now.”
“Very well. I shall execute your orders beginning with you, sir.” replied Raphael to Dameon’s terse statement, striding over to hold the cell door open for him.
As Raphael attended to the release of the others in their party, Dameon made his way down the hall between the rows of cells. Hardly twenty feet from his own cell, he heard a voice shout out from the door on his immediate right. Kneeling down, he opened the sliding panel used to permit the passage of prisoners’ meals. Putting his face near the opening, he announced himself. “Captain Dameon Mellino, lately of the U.S.S. Quar –Zin. May I inquire into your nationality and object?” When the prisoner moved into view, Dameon recognized the same cropped light hair and brown robe of the man who would have led him to his death, if not for the heroic action of Joseph. At this sight, he had second thoughts. “Why should I talk to you? You nearly killed me!” As he prepared to stand once more, the man called out
“I can explain! And I need to break my friend out!”
“All right, two questions. When a man in prison claims that he ‘can explain’ why he is there in the first place, he is liable to be lying. And in any case, why should I release you, when, as I said, you nearly killed me.”
“I only translated what was said second-hand! You were the first Americans we came across!”
“Exactly! We were the only ones!”
The response to this shout was a loud crash against the door, which sounded as if the prisoner had run against it.
“Why are you doing that?” Dameon shouted through the space.
“If I can’t make you listen to reason, I’ll shock it into you!”
At that moment, two of the boys came running back down the corridor, shouting “Guards! Guards! Guards are coming down on our heels!”
Dameon immediately scrambled up. “I’ll get back to you after this. We are all threatened now.” With that, he slammed the food panel shut and ran.
Unarmed as he was, Dameon did not stop to wonder why he was running toward the guards, and not away from them to save his life, to protect the boys. Yet that was the quandary of his action. He had known instantly that he could protect the boys far better by risking his life in a direct charge, yet if he got himself killed and they escaped, they would die anyway.
With that thought, Dameon realized that he was not being as brave as he had thought. He was acting as a coward would. Or a brave man who had no one else to care for, and believed that no one else cared for him.
Upon realizing how stupid he was really being, Dameon stopped short, looking for a place to hide himself until the guards had passed, and was extremely worried to notice that there was not a space that would offer any kind of cover along the whole stretch of wall. Desperately, Dameon who could hear the stamping of the guards well ahead, but coming closer, began to throw his whole weight against the nearest cell door.
He had attacked the door with all his weight several times without success, when his ears told him that the Spanish guards were just around the bend. Immediately, he cut short his attempts to stave in the cell door and braced himself to meet the oncoming guards.
As the guards came within sight, Dameon noticed one very odd thing about them. They were running toward him with bent knees and were arguing among themselves in awful imitations of Spanish accents. Just as they were about to collide with him, Dameon shouted in his loudest quarter-deck voice “Belay, Midshipmen! Silence, and fall into line! Smartly now!” It was oddly gratifying to see the boys stop in their tracks and fall in a heap at his feet. Then one of the Sponslers scrambled up, came to attention, and gave his report.
“As you may have guessed, sir, this was Mark’s idea. By the way, this is Matt speaking. Anyway, Mark and Raphael convinced us to come down that direction and see what we could find. What we found, sir, was the guardroom. Catching the guards at their meal, we soon had them tied up as well as any good sailor can be expected to tie a knot. That is, quite tightly. We were on our way to find you.”
“A smart report, and you may relax now, Matt. I would only like to know what made you decide to send Luke and John running down the corridor after me.”
“Mark said that would bring you faster, sir.”
“It did, but now we have to retrace our steps, a waste of good time.”
A short time later, they had returned to the cell of the mysterious American personage, broken him out, and caught up with the other boys. When Dameon had collected all of the boys outside of the jail once more, twilight was beginning to fall on the city. As they were about to leave, the other prisoner walked up to Dameon and asked
“Where do you plan to go after you leave this city?”
“I am planning to take these boys in to France, from which, France being neutral, we can pay passage on a ship that will take us back to America.”
“Good luck to you, then. My friend and I will see to your Spanish nemesis.”
“I thank you. So now we may part friends? If ever you return to America, I and my brothers will be easy to find if we are alive.”
At the conclusion of this exchange, Dameon and the American man shook hands and the parties left in opposite directions, fading into the growing darkness.
“Well, dad, how are they going to ‘see to our Spanish nemesis’ as he put it?”
“Do not talk of that. That is the business of brave men, not boys like you. And now, on your life hold silent until we have left the city.”
Accordingly, Dameon and the boys began to leave the prison building as silently as they could. For the most part, their caution was unnecessary, as the streets were nearly empty after dark. They crept along for several minutes before reaching an inn which had remained open to accommodate a celebration. Skirting the light coming from the window, Dameon led the boys to the wall of the building. Soon all of them were standing with their backs flat to the wall and Dameon could hear the speech coming from the meeting room.
“I’ve heard from the best source that that American Captain we have in prison is to be brought to Madrid tomorrow, to be hanged the following day. You may have heard of him. He is the head of the clan from America known as the Mellinos, who have instigated these past two wars against our glorious nation. The boys who were captured with him are to become the servants of His Excellency the Admiral Cristobol Coinhara.”
When he heard this, Dameon said to himself “I’m to be hanged in two days? I’m still in prison, am I? I’ll prove that any Mellino could run circles around a Spanish Admiral at any time. We have waited here for too long. It is time that we were on our way.”
At this, the boys began to inch away from the wall, while Dameon followed slowly. Moments later, he heard a cry from one of the boys, which was quickly choked off, as if a heavy cloak had been thrown over his face. Dameon, knowing from the scant warning that Spanish patrols were aware of his presence, felt for a gun at his belt, then remembered that he was completely unarmed. At this discovery, he decided to step into the light, risking death by shooting rather than endure the long trip to Madrid only to be hanged. “Go on! Shoot me, you cowards! Am I or am I not in prison where you put me? If I’m still there, you can go ahead and shoot the man standing here saying all this, because you won’t be killing the man who is to be kept alive until you reach the capital.”
He had hardly finished this rash challenge before he heard the window behind him open as a hand reached out to grab the collar of his coat. An instant later, he felt a pistol butt come down on his forehead and fell into oblivion.