User:JohnB/Fanfiction/Captain Nikanor's Ghost

by JohnB

(This story is based on Howard Pyle’s Book of Pirates: Fiction, Fact and Fancy Concerning the Buccaneers and Marooners of the Spanish Main [1921] Chapter 2 “The Ghost of Captain Brand”. In that version, Captain Brand has received a charter from the governor of New York to conduct foreign trade on behalf of the state, but he becomes a double agent instead. The story doesn’t read like a ghost story because it isn’t until the very end that the “footman” manifests himself as an apparition. Until then, he acts as the murderer’s spy and generally does his best to make the voyage unpleasant. [Why is the ghost of his father working against him?]

The hero has fallen in love at first sight of the daughter’s milk-white skin and cheeks like roses—yeah, right. What our female readership would find most galling is that in order for the hero to claim his share of the treasure, he must marry the daughter, whether she wants it or not, and claim her inheritance as his own. [Why would a pirate captain concern himself with such legal niceties?] Otherwise, the story contains the kernel of a good read; just clean up all the inconsistencies and non-sequiturs and it can become a much better read.)

"Yesterday, upon the stair, / I met a man who wasn't there. / He wasn't there again today, / I wish, I wish he'd go away..." (William Hughes Mearns, Antigonish [1899])

Our Hero, his Strengths and Weakness:

Jerome Nikanor was one of the most valued employees at the East Empire Company. Not only was he diligent, efficient, and industrious, he was also extremely good with numbers. His favorite parlor game was to visualize an abacus on a bare tabletop, and his fingers would dash back and forth as four-, five-, and even six-digit numbers were read to him at random to add up in his head. He could also subtract, multiply, and divide as well, but those were harder to check. If he and the checker didn’t agree on the sum, it was the checker’s fault every time.

Well, so much for Jerome’s strong points. His weak point was that he was otherwise a social pariah, in the company and outside. People generally avoided his company due to no fault of his own. You see, his father, Julius, captained a company transport ship in the waters around Vvardenfell and beyond. He did his job well—maybe a bit too well. He made a secret partnership with Velfred the Outlaw, who was headquartered outside Hla Oad, and Nelos Onmar, a dandy highwayman with a penchant for stealing kisses before robbing the young women on the road near Pelagiad.

Well, by and by it came to the company’s attention that Julius was also smuggling on company time, and when you consider that the volume of this trade was neither taxed nor company-regulated, though the company deserved the profits, it was no wonder that Duke Dren also took a special interest in what was going on. However, when confronted by Canctunian Ponius, the company’s chief executive, to explain what he was doing, Julius always showed a know-nothing face and claimed he had only the company’s interests at heart.

Things came to a head when the company began to suspect that other transport ship captains wanted a hand in the lucrative smuggling business, so it was decided to make an example of Julius. An arrest warrant was issued, and WANTED posters began appearing in all the cities and towns—500,000 in gold, “dead-or-alive”! Julius panicked, and with his two comrades, took a longboat carrying two large sea chests of their ill-gotten gains up the Odai River to the valley of the boiling mud pits between Balmora and Seyda-Neen. There they dug a pit and lowered the chests into it.

As Julius was pulling the ropes back up from the pit Velfred pulled out his Nordic axe and lopped his head off with one slice. Velfred kicked the headless corpse into the pit, and he and Nelos buried the chests and the mortal remains of Julius Nikanor. Nelos was naturally appalled by this treachery, but knowing he was the sole witness to the murder, thought it best to keep quiet. Velfred wasn’t one to take chances anyway and warned him that the same would happen to him if he raised one peep about it. Velfred put the head into a jar of brandy and sent it to Duke Dren by courier.

Upon receipt of the head, Duke Dren was shaken at the barbaric treatment of Julius Nikanor and came to suspect that Velfred the Outlaw had a vested interest in Julius’s fate. That “dead-or-alive” phrase was meant to scare the other ship captains and was not supposed to be taken so seriously. But a promise is a promise, and 500,000 in gold was deposited into an account Velfred had set up to receive it at the Bank of Vvardenfell.

The duke would have liked to investigate Velfred’s involvement in the whole business, but the company took no interest in any outsiders. The other ship captains began backing off from the lure of instant and easy wealth, so the company’s objective was met, and if Julius Nikanor was the sacrificial lamb to achieve that, so much the better. Thus Velfred got away with murder, and having come into such a large sum of cash, he decided to shutter his smuggling business, drop the “Outlaw” moniker, and go genteel. He used the money to buy land near Raven Rock in his native Solsteim to construct a country manor for himself and his baby daughter, Willifred. Jerome was just a babe when his father lost his life so ignominiously. Some two decades later he was working for the same company, albeit as a number-crunching office worker. He had a long-term lease on a room in the Six Fishes Inn, and it was a short walk to the company headquarters, so unlike his father’s, his entire world was circumscribed by the walls of Ebonheart. There was no way this young man could get into any trouble—or was there?

A Prescription for Tedium:

One day, a mangy-looking Khajiit wearing an eye patch and a peg-leg showed up in front of Jerome’s desk.

“I’m looking for a Master Jerome Nikanor,” he announced in a gravelly voice.

“I am he,” Jerome responded.

The Khajiit handed him a paper and hobbled out of the office. Jerome read the following letter:

“Master Jerome Nikanor, hail!

“You are hereby invited to meet with me in the tap room of the Six Fishes as soon as you are off work today. I have something of great importance to discuss with you. Use the code phrase: ‘The moons are up and the tide is in.’ Bring this paper with you.

“Very sincerely yours,

“A former friend of your father’s”

For somebody leading such a humdrum life as Jerome did, the letter didn’t pose so much a risk of danger as a welcome-mat to adventure. As soon as he was finished, he quickly left the office and hurried back to the inn. The letter would have helped by specifying who to look for, so he approached an Imperial at the bar.

“The moons are up and the tide is in.”

The Imperial observed him coldly up and down.

“Excuse me,” he answered. “I think the bar you’re looking for is on the other side of town.”

Jerome blushed deeply and turned away. He noticed that at a corner table an unusually well-dressed Dunmer was motioning with his eyes for Jerome to come sit in the chair across from him. Jerome approached tentatively.

“The moons are...” he began.

“Thank you very much, Master Nikanor.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at this cloak-and-dagger stuff,” Jerome chuckled shyly.

“Well, frankly, neither am I. I should have told you to look for a Dunmer. Here, have a seat.”

“So, what is this all about?”

“We have to set out from here post haste.”

“We?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“You’ll find out when we get there. However, so as not to keep you in too much suspense, this evening’s venture involves restoring to you and me our rightful shares of a treasure that was was hidden by your father. Oh, yes, the letter, please.”

Jerome took the letter from his pocket, and the stranger tucked it into his own.

“I don’t want to leave a paper trail,” he added. “Now, let’s be on our way.”

Not a Complete Waste After All:

Jerome obeyed as the stranger led the way down to the docks. A longboat with half-a-dozen men and a heap of shovels was waiting for them. Jerome entered the boat without question, and the rowers shoved off.

They made their way along the coast then entered the mouth of the Odai River. The rowers had to pull hard against the current, and progress was slow.

Jerome said to the stranger, “I would like very much to know why we are doing this.”

“Nelos Onmar at your service,” the stranger answered. “We have reason to believe that the scoundrel who murdered your father is planning to retrieve the buried treasure upriver from here.”

“And there he is now,” a companion added pointing upriver at a distant longboat.

“Coming or going?” Nelos asked anxiously.

“I believe coming.”

“Damn! He beat us to it!”

Gradually the boat came into view.

“Ahoy, suckers!” a voice called to them.

“Damn your eyes, Velfred!” Nelos yelled back.

They all ducked behind the gunwale when one of Velfred’s men nocked an arrow and let it fly in their direction. It stuck in the side of the longboat. They cursed their own helplessness as Velfred’s men, speeding along with the river current and the wind at their backs, jeered and laughed them to scorn. “What?! No weapons?! Haste makes waste!” Velfred blew them a loud raspberry.

“The Son of Hell take you, Velfred!” Nelos shouted back, but it was no use. Velfred’s boat was already well on its way downriver.

“Well, men, what do we do now?” Nelos asked, their own boat picking up speed as it began drifting downriver.

“Please, sir, if you don’t mind, I really would like to see where my father met his end.”

“Gentlemen, what do you think?”

They shrugged disconsolately and grumbled abject approval, then again they put their backs into rowing upriver.

They landed on the river bank that had the most soil disturbance from the dragging of heavy sea chests over the ground. They soon found the pit, around which were heaps of dug-up soil and here and there a human bone. Out of consideration for Jerome, the men helped gather up as many bones as they could find. Jerome removed his shirt and made of bundle of bones that he lowered on a cord into the pit. Then they returned the heaps of soil into the pit and placed a large stone on top to mark the spot.

“Gentlemen, let us observe a moment of silence for Master Nikanor’s father.”

They lowered their heads for a moment then returned to the longboat.

The Moonlight Voyage:

Several years later, the branch office in Fort Frostmoth, Solsteim was in need of an accountant to audit the books there because nobody was qualified, and so it hadn’t been done in a long time. When the job was complete and Jerome could show that there were no serious errors in bookkeeping, he packed up to make the first ship back to Ebonheart.

He arrived at the dock just as a few landed gentry were waiting to board. There were a father, his adult daughter, and their valet. What was the most remarkable about these people was that their luggage included two large sea chests, and their valet was as ugly as the daughter was attractive. The valet’s face resembled that of a scamp, and Jerome soon noticed that he kept leering at him as if displaying an inordinate interest.

It occurred to Jerome that the lady’s father was Velfred himself when he noticed how the ship crew heaved the chests by crane and lowered them onto hand carts on deck. The galleon swayed perceptibly when a crate hit the hand cart. There had to be a tremendous amount of gold in each chest. Two men to each pushed and pulled to maneuver the chests to their first class cabin. As the family proceeded up the gangplank, Jerome wondered, “Did that valet just give me a wink and a thumbs-up?”

The first-class cabins were above deck, and Jerome’s third-class cabin was like a closet below deck. He sat on his bunk and opened a shoulder bag to inspect a custom-made mini-crossbow that could be held in one hand. It was made of hardwood with a stainless steel bow, and it had a bowstring strung so tight you could draw blood trying to set it by hand. It came with a hook-and-lever loading device and pencil-like darts. A normal crossbow and dart can pierce steel plate, but these mini-darts could still do mortal damage to an unarmored body. He still remembered that helpless feeling out there on the Odai River, and Jerome swore he’d never be caught off guard again. He practiced loading and discharging mini-bolts into a board he’d brought along for target practice.

Tiring of that, he went up on deck for a breath of fresh air. The lady was standing at the gunwale watching the rocks and islets glide by in the moonlight.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked as he sauntered up to her.

“Oh, please, do! I love voyages by moonlight, and I don’t like being alone.”

“I can’t say the same because this is my first time ever—I mean standing in the moonlight with a young woman. By the way, I’m Jerome.” (He avoided mentioning his notorious family name.)

“I’m Willifred,” she responded offering her hand. “Mind if I call you Jerry? Jerome sounds so dark.”

“Not if you let me call you Willy. Willifred, I’m sorry to say, has kind of a masculine ring to it.”

“Well, in true Nordic tradition, my father really wanted a son, and when he got me instead, he didn’t back down from saddling me with this name. Not being a Nord yourself, you can’t fathom what that name has done to my self esteem. Instead of Willifred Velfredson, I am Willifred Velfredochter. People often think it’s a joke, but here’s one person who isn’t laughing! I don’t know what my sainted mother saw in him, but the only thing that can be said to his credit is that he didn’t remarry when she was gone.

“But now he sees me as a mere pawn in his social climbing to foist me off on some baron-boy in Cyrodiil. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. I understand he even killed a man in cold blood, but I don’t know the details. And so now he is hand-delivering me to the capitol for my wedding.”

“Ah. So the sea chests contain your dowry?”

“Well, as much as the skinflint is willing to part with anyway. He didn’t want to leave the chests at home because he was afraid he’d return only to find his slaves pillaged everything and absconded."

Jerome felt a bit uncomfortable hearing all this, but he understood there was a lot of emotional baggage that needed unpacking to anyone who would listen. He tried to steer the conversation in a more positive direction.

“I understand it’s not polite to congratulate a lady on her wedding. I suppose the next best thing is to wish her happiness and a bright future.”

“Thank you,” she answered abruptly and turned away. “Easy for you to say,” she added.

The Spook:

Just then Jerome gave a start. It seemed the valet’s face was peering at them from a window in the first-class section.

“Are you all right?” Willifred asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

They had been leaning, his right elbow and her left elbow resting on the gunwale. He moved to the other side of her as if to rest on the left elbow, and they continued talking. He suddenly froze. Now the valet’s head was poking out of the captain’s cabin door.

“There it is again!” Jerome mumbled.

“What?”

“How did he get from there,” he asked turning to look at the first-class section, “to there?” He pointed to the captain’s cabin.

“Who?”

“Your valet.”

“We don’t have a valet!”

“Then who is that scamp-faced fellow who followed you on board?”

She pulled her shawl up and clutched it close to her throat.

“Are you trying to scare me?!” Her voice quivered.

“No, of course not! When you boarded, I thought you were a party of three.”

“Stop it! You’re giving me the willies!”

Jerome suppressed a laugh.

“What’s so funny?!”

“If you heard what you said just now... What am I giving you?”

She thought back and let out a loud guffaw. Then she clapped her own hand to her mouth.

Velfred Unmasked:

“Oh dear, you’d better hurry back to your cabin! Daddy hates it when I laugh like a braying donkey, and if he finds you here...”

“I think I can deal with ‘Daddy’.” He found a cudgel-like stick nearby. “This will do,” he said tapping it against the gunwale.

“Whatever you do, I forbid you to hurt him in any way!”

“I promise I won’t. I just need to shake him up a bit.”

Sure enough, her old man came limping on his gold-headed cane to where they were standing.

“What are you doing out here at this hour?!” he demanded of her. "And why are you with this...this...fustilarian?!"

“I can explain everything, Velfred the Outlaw,” Jerome responded calmly.

Velfred’s eyes bulged with rage.

“How dare you call me that?!” he roared as he raised the cane and tried to bring it down on Jerome’s head.

But Jerome once belonged to a fencing fraternity at his university, and to this day you can find crusty junkers in the upper echelons of the company who wear their facial scars like badges of courage. Jerome took precautions not to become scarred for life, but that didn’t make him any less handy with a sword. He deftly parried Velfred’s blows. The significantly older man mustered all his strength and tried again and again until his favorite cane finally broke in two.

By now passengers were gathering around to watch the gladiator show, but the captain soon came and demanded to know what this was all about.

“He was trying to seduce my Willifred, who is betrothed to a baron’s son in Cyrodiil, and now look what he’s done to my cane!”

He picked up the gold-headed half and raised it to try and strike again until the captain ordered him to cease and desist. The captain also ordered Jerome to return to his cabin and remain there until further notice.

The Unwelcome Guest:

Jerome went below and stretched out restlessly on his bunk. It must have been getting very late, but he was too pumped full of adrenaline to think of sleep. He rolled over on his stomach with all manner of images of the day’s events swarming through his head. But these gave way to a deepening feeling of inertness punctuated with heavy breathing.

He suddenly realized that he was in a deep sleep, but his mind was still wide awake. It was a strange sensation. He tried to move his right thumb, but it was as if the right-thumb-mover in his head was out to lunch. This was the most thoroughly relaxed he’d ever been in a very long time time, and it felt really good.

But then gradually he began to realize that his deep breathing was being echoed by another deep breathing. When he inhaled, somebody inhaled, and vice versa. He tried to get up from the bed, but a tremendous weight held him down. He tried to turn his head and see what it was that was weighing him down, but his head wouldn’t move. He struggled, but the weight held him immobile.

It then occurred to him that—oh, Lady Azura in heaven!—there was a headless man lying asleep on top of him! His breath was sputtering through the exposed wind pipe in the stump of his neck making a strange raspbery-like sputtering sound. Blood began oozing from the wind pipe and dribble down Jerome’s neck. Jerome tried to cry out, but it sounded more like, “MMMMMMM!” He tried again louder and longer, but it came out, “MMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!”

“Lady Azura, help me wake up!” he prayed in his heart.

Just then, there was a hue and cry and the stamping of feet on the deck above. Jerome woke with a start and found he was alone. He felt his neck with his hand, but there was no blood. He quickly looked under the bunk, but there was nothing there either. He breathed deeply and shook himself to stop the powerful adrenaline buzz.

Time wise, he was totally disoriented. It is said that a dream that seems to span several hours is in fact contained within only ten minutes of real time. But in Vvardenfell, or in all Tamriel for that matter, people put very little stock in time. When Wayn in the Guild of Fighters talks about showering and heading home, you know for a fact that he’ll do nothing of the sort—he’ll still be open for business at 2 AM.

The Attack and its Outcome:

Jerome decided it expedient to defy the captain’s order and find out what the hullabaloo was all about. He grabbed his mini-crossbow and bolts and hurried out. Torches had been removed from their sockets, so he had to feel his way along the dark corridor to the deck hatch.

Torches showed in the dark night that another galleon had come and attached itself to the starboard side with ropes and grappling hooks, and the transport crew was fighting desperately to drive the pirates back. Torches on the opposing galleon also made the Jolly Roger flag almost visible at the top of the main mast.

Jerome surveyed the deck to see where he could be the most useful...and there was that blasted valet standing grinning at him from ear to ear. Jerome raised the mini-crossbow and took careful aim, but the valet did nothing to evade the shot only to continue grinning and leering at him.

“Take that, Hellhound!” Jerome shouted and pulled the trigger.

The apparition vanished, and Velfred the Outlaw wobbled for a moment. The dart had pierced his left eye and lodged itself in his brain. Velfred tumbled and lay spread-eagled on the deck. Just at that moment a cudgel hit Jerome on the side of the head. Stars filled his field of vision, and he fell senseless.

When Jerome came to his senses again, he was lying on a settee in what appeared to be the captain’s cabin of the opposing galleon. His head was bandaged, and his head and neck felt strangely out of kilter on his body. He was afraid he was being held for a ransom his poor mother would never be able to pay. And maybe they would slice off an ear to convince her they meant business. At least Nelos was there, and that was very reassuring, but Willy wasn’t, and that was most distressing.

“Where’s my lady?” he demanded of Nelos as his head throbbed.

“She voluntarily came on board to see to your safety, but she isn’t here at the moment. Shall I go get her?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I just want to know that she’s also safe.”

“When I enlisted Captain Raymond Rashotte’s aid, I made it very clear to him that our grudge was against Velfred the Outlaw, not his daughter. The captain gave his word to keep the mayhem within an acceptable level and has been as good as his word.”

“Please,” Jerome pleaded grasping his arm, “whatever you do, don’t tell Willy I killed her father.”

“Jerry," Nelos responded as if wholeheartedly taking to his nickname, "I confess I felt duty-bound to tell her who her father had killed and why. She took it very calmly. I can reassure you women are a lot more practical than we men give them credit for. Boys will be boys, but girls will be women. They don’t fantasize about being married to a baron’s son any more than you fantasize about being married to Queen Barenziah.

“She must have known all along that vengeance was on its way, but she told me you'd promised never to harm her father, so what happened had to be accidental. I strongly believe that for your sake and her own (because she's no longer under her father's thumb) she has chosen to let bygones be bygones. Her only concern was that her father be properly buried at sea where he felt the most at home."

"Nelos, have you ever been in love?"

"More times than I can count, but never with...that special one. Now, enough talk, we really must meet Captain Rashotte and thank him for what he has done for us. Come.”

He helped Jerome to his feet and guided him to the office where the captain was down on one knee inspecting the contents of the sea chests, probably deciding which one he would keep for himself and his crew.

“Ah, Misieur Onmar, Misieur Nikanor, welcome to my ship,” he said rising and extending both hands to them. “Please, come, sit. There’s something we need to discuss.”

They took their places across the desk from the captain, and he informed them of his intention to keep one chest as payment and leave the other for Nelos and Jerome to decide how to divide between themselves. Nelos begged leave to discuss the matter with Jerome in private and took him aside out of earshot.

A Crisis Avoided:

“Jerry, he’s taking the lion’s share!” Nelos murmured anxiously. “Don’t you think there should be a four-way division between you, me, Willy and him?”

Jerome demurred.

“Look,” he said to Nelos, “consider all the things that could have happened but didn’t. And they did not happen because Captain Rashotte has acted most honorably. If you wanted to limit his share of the take, you should have done so when you enlisted his aid. To hold back now amounts to a miser’s gratitude. Don’t think he is being friendly to us now for nothing. Willy and I will do just fine with our share — you needn’t worry about us. This treasure will be more than enough if and when we start our household.”

Nelos nodded, embarrassed that he had taken too much for granted.

Their decision was conveyed to the captain, and a pirate who could read and write was called on to act as secretary. The captain dictated the articles of agreement: first, that the treasure was to be divided 50/25/25; second, that the decision was final, and third, that anybody who later laid claim to more would also agree to have his throat slit from ear to ear. Nobody was respectable enough to own a signet ring, so they drew Xs next to their signatures.

Because of the sheer volume of treasure Nelos and Jerome decided the best way was to divide it by weight, so a pair of scales was sent for, and they set to work immediately, not trusting their Breton host to allow them to sleep on it. Jewelry and loose gem stones were weighed separately because of their premium value. Rare and enchanted weapons were matched in number and size. When a rare sword upset the balance, Nelos and Jerome played an Akaviri game called “stone-paper-scissors” to see whose it would be.

By dawn, everything was divided into two smaller chests, and Nelos, Jerry, and Willy were dropped off at Khartag Point. Though they were going in the same direction in Vvardenfell, Nelos took a separate boat from Gnaar Mok. He was old enough to be their father and wise enough to let the young couple travel on their own. He would be in contact again after they’d adjusted to the new situation. Jerry and Willy waited in Gnaar Mok then took the boat to Ebonheart by moonlight.

Ah, to be young and in love again! Nelos regretted his own unwillingness to settle down. What is one stolen kiss when you can have the whole relationship? Who was that young lady who became infatuated with him and sent him her glove as a love token? Better go find her! Yes, life isn’t so bleak after all! Nelos hurried on in hope she hadn’t given up on him.

The “valet” was never seen again, but Jerome was strangely haunted by his absence. Was that wink and thumbs-up a gesture of gratitude for a decent burial? Jerome deeply regretted having called him a hellhound, but he honestly had no idea who the apparition was until he had the leisure to think about it. At least now his father was resting in peace, and Jerome was glad for it.