Captain Oloff the Pirate (eBook)

A Cape pirate adventure, Book 4

Gerrie Radlof, Pieter Haasbroek (Autoren)

Pieter Haasbroek (Herausgeber)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
85 Seiten
Pieter Haasbroek (Verlag)
9780000727350 (ISBN)

Infos

Branded a pirate.

Hunted across the seas.

Betrayed by the man who destroyed his life.

Plunge into the Golden Age of Piracy (1690-1720), where the treacherous waters of the Cape of Good Hope are just the beginning of a worldwide adventure.

Falsely accused of murder, Oloff van Wagenaar sails the treacherous waters of the 18th-century Indian Ocean, forever pursued as an outlaw. His quest for justice brings him face-to-face with Captain Borghort, the ruthless conspirator who spread the lies that condemned him.

To survive, Oloff must navigate a deadly world of pirate havens, cutthroat thieves, and shifting alliances, where the line between honorable captain and wanted sea dog blurs with every crashing wave.

His only light is Anna te Hoogen, whose love offers hope amid betrayal. But Borghort's web of treachery stretches to the highest powers of the Cape Colony. One wrong move could cost Oloff not only his life and honor, but Anna's as well.

To clear his name, Oloff must outwit a master manipulator in a deadly game of politics, piracy, and revenge, where the fate of nations may hang in the balance.

Packed with swashbuckling sea battles, betrayal, and relentless intrigue, this thrilling historical adventure is perfect for fans of Rafael Sabatini's Captain Blood, The Count of Monte Cristo, and the high-seas drama of Black Sails.

Book four of the Oloff the Sea Pirate saga. Hoist the sails and join the fight for honor, love, and vengeance today!

Textauszug

4. CAPTAIN OLOFF THE PIRATE

Chapter 1

The grand tavern along the sandy main street of Deelen Bay is teeming with chattering, laughing, and even shouting men and women. The diverse colours of the men’s three-quarter jackets and breeches brighten the room. Most of them are rather well-dressed, as everyone in the Hanekraai tavern holds at least the rank of mate. Common pirate rabble is not permitted here, for indeed, the Hanekraai is the “palace” of the massive Admiral who rules Deelen Bay with an iron fist.

The tavern’s name is apt, as the gatherings here usually last until after the first cockcrow in the early morning. It is here that the laws of the pirate community are crafted, and it is here that the captains come after their privateering voyages far north or south of Madagascar to rest and relax. Money flows in Deelen Bay as it does in no opulent European court or, as some have noted, even in the East. Around the arms and necks of even the most unrefined women hang jewels of incalculable value. These are gifts that their pirate paramours bring back to Deelen Bay after successful raids on the great merchant ships that sail back and forth between the fabled East and Europe, laden with rich cargo.

To obtain these treasures, the pirates merely risked their lives, and their lives mean nothing to them! They place the same value on the spoils, for after spending months at sea and often being in mortal danger, they return here to empty their coffers in a few weeks of drinking and revelry. In this way, the tavern owners and the few permanent residents of Deelen Bay become immensely wealthy, yet the largest portion of the pirate loot ultimately ends up in the treasure chambers of the man who calls himself the Admiral. He considers himself a retired pirate. He secured this harbor for the pirate captains. Now he levies heavy taxes, primarily on the tavern owners. For this, they obtain the right to conduct business there. Similar taxes are levied on the owners of visiting ships, in this case, to protect them from exorbitant prices of drink and food!

On either side of Deelen Bay, the hills slope down to a point in the sea. In the large basin between them lies the sheltered harbour, and behind the town, which is built almost on the beach, is fertile land. Here, gardens, fields, and orchards have been established. In the large slave camp on the outskirts of the town, hundreds of sailors, captured on merchant vessels and other ships, are held as slaves to cultivate the gardens and thus supply the community and visiting ships with food.

The Admiral sits at a large oval table in front of the long counter. He peers out from under his thick eyebrows at one of the captains on the opposite side of the table. He usually personally approves the few captains and other friends who are permitted to sit with him at the head table. No one dares to take a seat there unless invited by the Admiral himself.

The man the Admiral is looking at is a blustery fellow. He has large, dark eyes and a flat face. His mustache connects to the black stringy beard around his chin, which is almost four inches long.

At this very moment, he slams his left hand on the table again, while bringing a cup of wine to his lips with his right hand. He spills some of it on his chest.

“I am one of the oldest captains here, and I tell you that I am more than a match for all of you!” He speaks with a slur, and it is very clear that he has drunk far too much. A few of the men nearby glance at him sideways. Then, they deliberately turn their heads away and converse with each other, as they have already noticed that Borghort’s behaviour displeases the Admiral.

“He’ll get his comeuppance,” the Admiral mutters to a young captain beside him. “Borghort is getting too big for his boots.”

“And if there is anyone here who doubts my words, you should just say so. Then we can settle the matter right here and now!” Borghort bellows.

The Admiral nudges the captain beside him. He leans over and whispers in his ear.

“Why don’t you accept his challenge, Masson?” he urges him.

The young Masson looks around, half startled. He cannot immediately determine whether the Admiral truly means it.

Then, the massive man bursts out laughing. He slams his fist on the table.

“You can all sit there and laugh at Borghort,” he exclaims, “but you’re still scared of him, aren’t you? He is indeed grumpy and ill-tempered these days, but before, he was one of the most cheerful among us, and he remains a master with the sword and the pistol!”

“And you’d do well to remember that!” Borghort snaps at the Admiral.

It is as if someone has slapped the Admiral in the face. He whirls around and glares furiously at Borghort.

“I put in a good word for you, and this is the thanks I get!” he bellows.

“A good word!” Borghort retorts. “What good could that possibly do for me?” He is too drunk to realize what he is saying.

The other captains around the table have all already risen to their feet. They remain standing hesitantly, as they do not know what they ought to do. It is the first time in the history of Deelen Bay that anyone has dared to speak to the Admiral in such a way.

“If this quarrel had not occurred before, I would have been inclined to assume that you are too befuddled with drink to know what you’re doing.” The Admiral’s face is red with anger. “But now, this is once too often. Through your missteps, we have already lost several good men. Your supposed dear friend, Ben van Osse, is gone because of that. The same fate befell the Ketner brothers. Not to even mention Meert and Jorrit! All those who got mixed up with you are no longer with us. They were clever young captains who could have achieved great fame. I even often wonder if we should believe your stories concerning Oloff the Pirate. From what I’ve seen of him, he seems a better man than ten of your kind!”

These scornful words cause Borghort to leap up from his chair. He throws his cup of wine away from him.

“I have always known that you distrust me!” he shouts loudly. “I know that you would like to be rid of me. Very well, I shall leave. I shall leave Deelen Bay and never return. But woe to the man who falls into my hands!”

Without further ado, he turns around, and after bracing himself slightly against the table, he strides across the spacious floor and up the few steps to the front door. Two young officers are sitting near the door. They wait until Borghort has been out for almost three minutes before they jump up and follow him unnoticed. In those three minutes before they left the Hanekraai, however, they had heard everything that was said at the head table. Among the captains who had gathered around the Admiral, there was no shortage of plans to teach this insolent Borghort a lesson, and the kind of lesson they prescribed was nothing less than a death sentence.

The two officers run up the street. A short distance ahead of them, they see the staggering gait of Captain Borghort. They position themselves on either side of him and support him by his arms. Half dazed, he looks at them.

“Ah!” he exclaims with a slur. “My faithful Cuyler. And my mate Berandi. You have not yet forsaken me.”

“They’re talking wildly in the tavern, captain,” Cuyler says in a muffled tone. “We must depart immediately.”

Borghort yanks his arms out of their grip. He comes to an abrupt standstill.

“Depart!” he bellows. “Have I, Borghort, run away like a dog with its tail between its legs! Have I run away from that riffraff! That lot of lily-livered cowards who are too afraid to touch their weapons as long as I look them in the eye! I shall depart!” He hesitates as if he cannot bring himself to say the words. “Depart!” he then says again, but this time it is as if he is beginning to think. “Perhaps we should go. We would have left the bay tomorrow morning at high tide in any case, wouldn’t we, Cuyler?”

“We would, captain. Therefore, there is no question of running away.” Half an hour later, Borghort and his two men row out in a skiff to the large ship in the middle of the bay. Borghort immediately goes to his cabin and stretches out on the bunk. Cuyler takes command and sends the few available men up the masts. Berandi hurries to make a round of the taverns to find as many of Borghort’s crew as possible. When he arrives with the last load of half-drunk men, and others who are lying unconscious in the bottom of the skiff, Cuyler has the anchors raised.

There is a light breeze from the land. The large privateer’s speed increases rapidly, and with a white foam edge on either side of the bow, it ploughs through the narrow entrance of the bay and then turns northwards, as Borghort had already decided earlier in the day.

The next morning, shortly after daybreak, the captain appears on the quarterdeck. Cuyler has already gone to sleep, but Berandi is still at the helm. Borghort orders one of the crew to take over so that the mate can go and rest. Then, the pirate captain goes to stand by the railing and peers ahead.

His thoughts drift back over his pirate career. In his prime, he was one of the most notorious and certainly one of the most feared privateer captains in the Indian Ocean. In Deelen Bay, he always sat at the Admiral’s right hand. The younger captains admired him and tried to imitate him in every respect.

He befriended Ben van Osse, and after they went on raids together, they always returned to Deelen Bay with the largest loads of loot.

As Borghort thinks back, he views his and Ben’s expedition to the Cape of Good Hope as the turning point of his...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 27.8.2025
• Übersetzer: Pieter Haasbroek, Ai
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
• ISBN-13: 9780000727350 / 9780000727350