Patriot (A Jack Sigler Continuum Novella) by Jeremy Robinson, J. Kent Holloway

really must protest,” Greer said. The man had seemed to materialize from nowhere.
    “Why am I not surprised?” Reardon said, shaking his head.
    The quartermaster ignored the comment. “Keelhauling was abolished more than twenty years ago. What kind of example would we be setting…”
    “The pirate’s as good as dead anyway, Mr. Greer. As far as I’m concerned, that is. Keelhaulin’ ain’t that much of a punishment to him, now is it?”
    “But…”
    “Spratt! Smally! Front and center!” The captain shouted. Two sailors rushed up, and stood at attention. “Let’s get this man ready for a keelhaul, gentlemen. If nothin’ else, we’ll at least be feedin’ the local fish.”
    The two sailors procured a long coil of rope, and began barking orders at their fellow crewmen. Asherah watched as they tied Lanme Wa to the center of the line, while another group of sailors dragged the other end of the rope over the bow, then brought it to the center of the ship.
    “Be sure to give it some slack, gents.” Captain Reardon bent down to help his men pick up the corpse, and carry it to the port side rail. “Don’t want his leathery hide gettin’ scored by the razor-sharp edges of barnacles down below, now do we?”
    Reardon, gripping the pirate’s right arm, looked over at Asherah.
    “Give him a dagger,” she said. “Tuck it in his belt.”
    He cocked his head at her.
    “Dis won’t be no typical keelhaul, mon cher . Once you get him directly under da ship, you’ll be needin’ to leave him dere for a bit.”
    “For how long?” Finkle asked, dabbing a handkerchief against his perspiring forehead.
    “Til he uses dat knife to cut away da rope, and climb back on board.”
    Each man on deck stopped what they were doing, and stared at her. She couldn’t resist the urge to smile at their obvious discomfort. For the first time since finding Lanme Wa, the sheer gravity of what they were attempting to do had finally hit home. They were, in fact, attempting to resurrect the decomposed corpse of a long dead pirate. And if this worked, that same pirate would be scrambling back on board their very ship. If Asherah was honest with herself, she would have to admit that the thought sent a twinge of fear down her spine, as well.
    “And if he doesn’t?” Reardon broke the silence in a low, conspiratorial voice.
    “Den dis has all been in vain, no?”
    The captain glared at her for a split second, then nodded at his men. The corpse was thrown over the side. There was a muffled splash, and suddenly, the rope pulled taut as Lanme Wa was dragged helplessly under the ship.

 
     
    9
     
    The darkness embraced him. Blissful oblivion wrapped its cold, apathetic arms around his emaciated frame, protecting him from the life he’d begun to despise. How long had it been this way? A day? A month? A millennium? It was impossible to say, but he welcomed it with all his heart.
    His mates—his friends , yes, that was the correct word—would say he’d given up. But they couldn’t possibly know. Couldn’t possibly understand. Then again, he wasn’t entirely certain if he even had any friends. Not anymore. They’d gradually started to become lost to him through time. Just as an adult has only the vaguest of recollections of childhood friends long gone, his own memories had begun to fade centuries ago. Only the faintest of recollections could bring them to mind…and then only by chance. The briefest whiff of a fragrance. A particular shade of red. A shadow of a large man standing before the sun. These triggered those fleeting memories he so longed for. But they were growing far too dim for any sustainable accuracy.
    There were only two faces from his First Life —as he had begun thinking of it—that were ingrained deeply within his soul, though even now he struggled to recall their names in the form of English he’d not spoken in over two thousand years. The woman, he loved dearly. Had been faithful to her all this time. Had not