The Black Buccaneer - Chapter - 28

Henry Creed stepped off his ship onto the docks of Port Royal, his boots clicking sharply against the wooden planks. The air was thick with tension, the usual bustling port feeling strangely subdued. Soldiers moved with urgency, patrolling the streets, their muskets at the ready. Civilians whispered in hushed tones, their eyes filled with unease.

Henry exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. He had barely been gone a week, finalizing a lucrative business deal in Havana, and now Port Royal was in chaos. As he walked through the town, the damage from the recent pirate attack was evident—burned-out buildings, shattered glass, and the lingering scent of gunpowder.

When he reached the governor’s mansion, he was met with the grim face of Governor Weatherby Swann himself.

"Ah, Henry," the governor said, wringing his hands. "You return at a most troubling time."

"I can see that," Henry replied, adjusting his coat. "What happened?"

Swann let out a weary sigh. "Pirates attacked the port. They took my Elizabeth aboard that cursed ship, the Black Pearl."

Henry frowned. "The Black Pearl?" His mind immediately recalled the infamous ship, knowing full well the stories of its ghostly crew.

"That's not all," Swann continued. "Jack Sparrow, the pirate we captured, escaped from prison and stole The Interceptor—along with Will Turner."

At this, Henry’s eyebrows shot up. "Will?"

"Yes," Swann confirmed. "Your friend Turner freed Sparrow and aided in the theft. He is now a fugitive, wanted for piracy."

Henry let out a sharp sigh and shook his head. "That boy… If Will stole a ship, it was only for one reason—to rescue Elizabeth."

Swann's eyes flickered with conflict. "I know that. But the authorities see only the crime, not the intent. He helped a pirate escape, stole a navy vessel, and sailed into the open sea. What else can they assume?"

Henry’s jaw tightened. He had invited Jack Sparrow to Port Royal under the impression that there would be some minor mischief, but this? This was far beyond what he expected.

"This is why I should never trust Jack with anything," Henry muttered to himself.

Walking through the streets of Port Royal, Henry observed how deeply the attack had rattled the people. Many shops were closed, their owners fearing another raid. The local garrison was in high alert, looking for any sign of Will or Sparrow’s whereabouts.

He stopped at the docks, gazing out at the empty space where The Interceptor had once been.

"Will Turner, what have you gotten yourself into?" he murmured.

Morgan, his trusted associate, approached from behind. "Captain, I assume you’ve heard?"

Henry nodded. "Every time I think I’ve washed my hands of my past life, something pulls me back in."

Morgan smirked. "That’s what happens when you befriend pirates, sir."

Henry let out a dry chuckle but then turned serious. "I need to find out exactly what happened. If Will is sailing with Jack, then they’re heading for the Black Pearl."

"Are you thinking of following them?" Morgan asked.

Henry hesitated. He had spent years building a life as Henry Creed, a reputable merchant, a man of status. But now, Will was in danger, Port Royal was in turmoil, and a ship with a cursed crew was out there holding an innocent woman hostage.

For all his insistence that he had left his past behind, the sea was calling him again.

"Prepare a ship," Henry finally said. "We’re going after them."

Morgan grinned. "Back to the pirate life, then?"

Henry smirked. "Let’s just say… an old friend needs a reminder that he doesn’t get to cause trouble without consequences."

With that, Henry turned on his heel, already planning his next move. Jack Sparrow had some explaining to do.

The wind howled through the sails of The Sea. Whisper, Henry Creed’s sleek and formidable ship, as it cut through the churning waters of the Caribbean. The crew worked efficiently, adjusting the rigging and ensuring their course remained steady. The sky was painted in hues of deep blue, with streaks of gold from the fading sun, yet a lingering tension hung over the deck.

Morgan approached the helm where Henry stood, gripping the wheel with a firm, steady hand.

"Alright, Captain," Morgan said, arms crossed. "Where exactly are we going?"

Henry’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon. "We’re sailing for Isla de Muerta."

Murmurs spread among the crew. Some whispered superstitiously, others looked uneasy. Morgan furrowed his brow.

"That’s a name I’ve not heard in a long time," Morgan said, rubbing his jaw. "You’re certain about this?"

Henry nodded. "It’s the only place the Black Pearl would take Elizabeth Swann. It’s not an island you’ll find on any map, and only those who already know where it is can navigate the waters leading there."

Morgan exhaled sharply. "That sounds an awful lot like magic."

Henry smirked. "Aye, it does."

A younger crew member, Briggs, shifted nervously. "Captain, I’ve heard stories. They say Isla de Muerta is cursed—haunted by dead men."

Henry turned to face his crew, his expression unreadable. "Aye. And they’re not just stories."

The men exchanged uneasy glances. Pirates were superstitious by nature, and sailing toward a cursed island was not exactly a comforting notion.

"But there’s treasure there," Henry continued, leaning against the wheel. "More than you could ever dream of. The kind of wealth men would kill for. The kind that got Elizabeth Swann taken in the first place."

Morgan watched him carefully. "You don’t care about the treasure, though. You care about Will and Elizabeth."

Henry’s smirk faded. "Aye, I do."

Morgan nodded, understanding the unspoken weight behind Henry’s words.

The sea grew rougher as they sailed deeper into the unknown, the waves taller, the wind colder. The further they traveled, the more unnatural the waters became. The crew felt it—the eerie stillness, the shift in the air.

One night, as Henry stood at the helm, Morgan joined him, eyeing the vast ocean ahead.

"How exactly do you know where this island is?" Morgan asked.

Henry glanced at him, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Because I’ve been there before."

Morgan frowned. "You never told me that."

"Because it was long before I became Henry Creed." Henry’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "Back when I sailed under a different name, I found Isla de Muerta. I learned its secrets, saw the cursed gold with my own eyes. And I know what awaits us there."

Morgan studied him. "And yet, we’re still going."

Henry nodded. "Because I know Jack Sparrow. And I know he’s got his eyes set on that treasure."

The Sea Whisper sailed through the rolling waves, its course set for Tortuga, the infamous pirate haven. The island loomed in the distance, its flickering lights barely visible through the haze of rum-soaked revelry and lawless chaos.

Henry Creed stood at the helm, dressed not as the respected merchant captain but as Captain Black once again. The black leather coat, the crimson sash, the polished boots—all of it felt both familiar and foreign. It had been years since he last adorned this attire, years since he had truly embraced the name Captain Black.

Morgan adjusted his own pirate coat, glancing at Henry. "You sure about this, Captain?"

Henry smirked. "You think anyone in Tortuga will believe that Henry Creed, respectable merchant, just walked in with his crew looking for the Black Pearl?"

Morgan chuckled. "Fair enough. But let’s hope no one holds a grudge."

The crew had undergone a complete transformation. Gone were the neat coats and disciplined posture of respectable sailors. Now, they looked the part of ruthless pirates once more—scarves tied around their heads, cutlasses hanging from their belts, and pistols tucked at their sides. They were no longer Henry Creed’s men.

They were Captain Black’s crew once again.

As the Sea Whisper approached the docks of Tortuga, Henry made his decision.

"We can’t use our ship here. Too recognizable."

Morgan nodded. "We need a new ship. Something fast but not too flashy."

Henry turned to Briggs. "Take the Sea Whisper out to deep waters and anchor offshore. Keep her out of sight. We'll send a signal when we need you."

Briggs saluted. "Aye, Captain."

With that, Henry and his men climbed aboard longboats and rowed toward Tortuga under the cover of darkness.

The moment they set foot on the rickety docks, Henry felt the old, chaotic energy of Tortuga rushing back. The streets were alive with shouting, singing, and the unmistakable sound of fists colliding with faces. Drunken pirates staggered from taverns, wenches flirted from balconies, and somewhere in the distance, a musket shot rang out, followed by laughter.

Morgan exhaled. "Feels like home."

Henry grinned. "Indeed."

Their first stop was The Drunken Wench, one of Tortuga’s rowdiest taverns. It was the kind of place where men either made alliances or got their throats slit for looking the wrong way.

Henry pushed open the doors, and for a brief moment, the tavern fell silent. Then, murmurs rippled through the crowd as eyes turned toward him.

"Is that…?"

"Bloody hell, that’s Captain Black!"

"Didn’t he die?"

"Looks alive to me!"

Henry smirked as he strode in, Morgan and the crew following closely behind. He pulled out a pouch of gold and tossed it onto the bar.

"Rum for the house," he announced.

A loud cheer erupted, and just like that, any tension in the room melted away. Pirates might be cutthroats, but they respected a man who paid for their drinks.

As the crowd drank, Henry leaned against the bar, speaking in a low voice to the barkeep.

"I need a fast ship. No questions asked. Who’s got one for sale?"

The barkeep, a grizzled old sailor with a missing eye, stroked his beard. "Fast ships don’t come cheap. But… there’s one. The Sea Phantom. Belonged to a French privateer. Took a bad beating in a storm and is moored near the west docks."

Henry nodded. "Who owns her?"

The barkeep smirked. "Nobody. Captain’s dead, crew abandoned her. If you can fix her, she’s yours."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Sounds almost too easy."

Henry chuckled. "Then let’s go take a look."

The Sea Phantom was in rough shape, but her hull was strong, and her masts were intact. A few repairs, and she’d be as fast as anything on the sea.

Henry ran his hand over the rail, nodding in approval. "She’ll do."

The Sea Phantom rocked gently in the quiet harbor of Tortuga, her hull battered by time and storms, yet still standing firm. The night air carried the scent of salt and rum, and the distant sound of drunken singing and brawling filled the streets of the pirate haven.

On the deck, Captain Black—known to the world as Henry Creed—stood alone. His men had been given free rein to enjoy Tortuga, a rare luxury after weeks at sea. But Sirius Black had work to do.

He ran his gloved hand over the worn wood of the railings, his eyes narrowing. This ship, the Sea Phantom, had potential. It was fast, well-built—just in need of proper repairs. He could have easily taken out one of the many ships he had stored within his enchanted trunk, but retrieving them was simple. Putting them back, however, required an intricate magical process that he had little patience for.

With a sigh, he stretched out his hand.

"Reparo."

A faint shimmer spread across the ship’s surface as the planks mended themselves, the damaged mast straightened, and the torn sails stitched themselves back together. The creaking of old wood being restored echoed through the empty harbor, but Sirius didn’t stop. He whispered more incantations, reinforcing the hull, strengthening the rigging, ensuring that this vessel would be a force to be reckoned with.

The name Captain Black carried weight across the seas. He was no ordinary pirate.

Many feared him, not just for his ruthless tactics and unmatched skill in battle, but for something more—something unnatural. Stories had spread among sailors, whispers in the dark about how Captain Black never seemed to lose, how his wounds healed faster than any man’s, how ships that faced him were crushed with unnatural precision. Some claimed he had made a deal with a sea witch, others believed he was a cursed soul, wandering the seas for eternity.

But the older generation of pirates, those who had seen Captain Black in his prime, knew better. They knew he was something more—something beyond mortal men.

Even the most hardened criminals in Tortuga, men who would stab their own brothers for a pouch of gold, knew better than to cross him. Captain Black had destroyed fleets, sunk legendary captains, and amassed treasures that even the British Crown feared.

And now, he was back.

Sirius stepped back from his work, the Sea Phantom now looking like a proper vessel, ready to sail. With a satisfied smirk, he turned toward the shore.

One of his trusted officers, Morgan, approached from the docks. "The men are enjoying themselves, but word’s already spreading. Your name’s been whispered in every tavern."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Good or bad?"

Morgan chuckled. "A bit of both. Some respect you, others fear you, and the rest… well, they’re wondering if you’re a ghost."

Sirius smirked. "Let them wonder."

Morgan hesitated before adding, "There’s something else. Some of the younger pirates—they don’t believe in the old stories. They think Captain Black is just a legend. A tale meant to scare children."

Sirius chuckled darkly. "They’ll learn soon enough."

Sirius had already planned his next move. He sent orders to his other ship, The Sea Whisper, instructing some of his crew to sail it back to Port Royal under an assumed identity. The goal was simple—keep Henry Creed’s name clean, keep the merchants from questioning why he was absent, and ensure that no one suspected his ties to piracy.

While Captain Black terrorized the seas, Henry Creed needed to remain untouchable.

Morgan handed him a sealed letter. "The Sea Whisper’s crew confirmed they’re on their way. Port Royal won’t suspect a thing."

Sirius nodded. "Good. The last thing I need is to be hunted in two different worlds."

The night passed with little disturbance, though Sirius could feel the shifting tides of fate. He had been out of the game for too long, but the world hadn’t forgotten him.

And soon, they would remember why Captain Black was feared.

With one final glance at the repaired Sea Phantom, Sirius whispered under his breath, "Let the hunt begin."