2/24/16
John Drover had been making a good living for himself with his steam yacht by carrying cargo between the mainland and the many islands within a few hundred miles. During this prosperous time he had even become engaged with a beautiful young maiden named Molly and was building his fortune while planning a spring wedding.
Unfortunately all this changed when a new shipping consortium bribed the governor to give them an exclusive trade concession. At first John tried working as a contractor for the consortium, but they paid such small commissions he couldn’t meet his expenses. Thus he felt he had no option but to take on the pseudonym “Jack” and begin running cargo for those merchants who were likewise being crippled by the shipping consortium’s new ‘fees and service charges.’
As word spread among the merchants, ‘Jack’s Night Delivery‘ took off in a big way and he was again building his nest egg for the spring event. Alas, the consortium also heard of these nocturnal activities and brought in some patrol ships to stop him.
One evening he had just left a mainland port with a shipment of machine parts for one of the islands when he saw a ship exiting the harbor behind him and taking the same heading. He knew such a ship would not be on this course unless it was a patrol following him.
Jack cut his running lights but the full moon was bright enough for the pursuers to keep sight. The chase continued more than an hour, but no matter how he changed course, they continued to track him.
At last he neared his destination and was nearly out of options. One hope remained to him. He steered for the submerged reef on the south side of the island. His ship, being a coastal vessel, had a shallow draft and could pass over the reef without touching it. The ship pursuing him, however, was built for open seas and thus had a much deeper draft. They’d be fools to try following him across it. That, or not be aware it was there. It didn’t take long to find out.
Jack had cleared the reef and was well beyond it when he heard the loud splintering of timbers as the hull of the other ship was ripped to pieces. He then heard the terrified cries of the men aboard as their ship went down. He nearly turned around to help, but held back as he recalled stories he’d heard of these consortium privateers. He was convinced they’d still try to arrest him, even as he rescued them. So he sailed on and left them to their fate. Fortunately the darkness quickly hid the sight from him.
Some days later he learned that all hands on that ship had been lost. What’s more, the consortium was blaming him for the loss. Without survivors it couldn’t be proven he’d done anything, so no warrant was issued. But most people believed he was involved in some way. So thereafter people called him “Black Jack, the Merciless.”
The worst consequence was that his fiance’e broke off their engagement. She didn’t want to be married to a villain. What’s more, she didn’t even tell him in person. She merely sent an acquaintance to return the diamond ring and pearl necklace he’d given her upon proposing. He later heard she moved away and married a scrawny schoolmaster from the north.
His business also dropped off significantly after the incident. Although the merchants still hated the consortium, they detested Jack’s callous disregard for other lives, no matter that they were enemies.
He didn’t like his new reputation at first, but soon realized that a dangerous notoriety was useful for giving him a degree of safety. He was now dealing with people who placed small value on human life, since the only shipping orders he received anymore were for deliveries of untaxed liquor. So here he was a rumrunner, little better than a pirate.
One evening he was heavily laded with barrels of rum bound for Dagger Bay, the outermost island, when he saw against the horizon what looked to be another patrol ship. Not wanting a repeat of the former occurrence he doused the lights and increased speed, and hoped he hadn’t been spotted. This time there was no moon to work against him, so he felt there was a chance.
By daybreak he was approaching the island. Peering rearwards he just made out the patrol ship. They must have seen him after all and guessed his destination from the heading. Gambling that his smaller ship hadn’t yet been spotted in the dim morning twilight, he steered away from the harbor and made his way toward the island’s backside. Just before rounding the end of the point he looked back and noted with satisfaction that the other ship was still headed for the port. He’d done it.
Jack reduced speed and cruised slowly along the coast. He scanned the shoreline hoping for someplace he could pull in and hide for a while. At length he spotted a small cove which suited his purpose. After anchoring, he waded ashore and looked around. He discovered a narrow cave concealed by foliage and was struck with an idea.
He spent the next couple of hours unloading the barrels and hiding them in the cave. Then feeling sure they wouldn’t be found he returned to his ship and left the cove, smiling at his ingenuity.
Entering the harbor he saw the patrol ship had already docked and squads of armed men were searching the ships along the wharf. Jack docked his own ship, then stood aside with a grin as agents boarded and looked through his holds. As they left disappointed, he tipped his hat and bid them, “Good day.”
Jack’s attention quickly turned to the sound of men shouting. A commotion had erupted on one of the boats when a search party found a secret hold filled with bootleg rum. The boat’s captain was restrained while the squad unloaded the barrels and poured the contents into the harbor. Their work done, they released the unfortunate captain and strode away with taunting remarks.
Jack recognized the captain as a colleague, so he walked over to him. “Tough break, Tom.”
Tom didn’t answer. He just glared at the empty barrels scattered on the wharf.
Jack spoke again. “Were those for that new fellow’s tavern? What’s his name, Chris, or something?”
Tom nodded. Jack decided not to mention that his load as well had been bound for the new tavern. “C’mon. I’ll go with you to tell him what happened. It’ll help to have someone back up your story.”
After hearing the news of his loss the tavern owner collapsed into a chair. “I’m ruined. Finished! I put everything I had into buying this place and setting it up. I was counting on those deliveries to make back my investment.”
Tom was apologetic. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Deazy. It couldn’t be helped. That consortium ship came in right behind me and I didn’t have time to unload before I was boarded.”
“I understand,” moaned the owner. “But what am I to do? I don’t have two coins to rub together now. I can’t buy more stock. I have nothing to live on. I can’t even buy passage back to the mainland. Dagger Bay has been my ruin!”
Jack’s face lit up as another brainstorm hit. “Say, what would you think of me buying this place from you? I couldn’t give much, but you’d at least have the means to do something else.”
“Really?” The man’s voice was desperate. “You would do that?”
“I have a diamond ring and a pearl necklace I’ve been holding for some time. I reckon I could trade those for this building. I’m sure you can get at least a thousand for them.”
Tom joined in. “And I’m willing to give you free passage back to the mainland. It’s the least I can do, considering it was my boat your cargo was seized from. I can hold off leaving until tomorrow morning if you need me to.”
Within a few hours all the transactions had been completed. Chris Deazy didn’t want to stay in Dagger Bay any longer than he had to, so he packed his personal items, then he and Tom sailed on the evening tide.
Jack waited a few days before retrieving the liquor from the cave. He wanted to be sure everything was quiet again before making his move. In the meantime he painted a big sign to adorn the front of the new business, ”Black Jack’s Tavern.”
His venture was immediately successful. Being the only tavern around had its advantages. And by knowing all the local rumrunners, he was able to head off any attempts at competition.
In less than a month he made enough to buy the section of beachfront property which held his secret cave. He then used that area to receive deliveries and hold them until they could safely be moved to the tavern.
Although he only sold bootleg liquor to his customers, he bought a supply of legal stock for showing to consortium agents whenever they came to inspect. There were rows of bottles, complete with tax stamps, lined up on the shelves behind the bar, and sealed barrels in the front stockroom bearing the proper tags. The inspectors never caught on that these bottles and barrels didn’t change from one visit to the next. Nor did they ever find the hidden storeroom where he kept the real stock for trade.
Tom eventually became manager for the tavern, and Jack turned his attention to other things. He made a road across the island between the tavern and his cove. He then built a small house there for himself. Whenever the brawls in the tavern became too tiresome for him, he’d seek seclusion by sailing his yacht around the islands, or sitting on the porch of his isolated home and watching the sea.
Years have passed since then and the consortium no longer controls the local trade. Jack has never married. He’s now semi-retired since Tom handles the tavern. He still takes an interest in the business and can be found talking with customers from time to time. But lingering whispers of his past reputation keep all but the bravest, or most foolish, from approaching him.
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