The Ransom (eBook)

A Cape pirate adventure, Book 7

Gerrie Radlof, Pieter Haasbroek (Autoren)

Pieter Haasbroek (Herausgeber)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
93 Seiten
Pieter Haasbroek (Verlag)
978-0-00-072739-8 (ISBN)

Infos

A legendary pirate in disguise.

A fortress of shadows.

A ransom that sparks betrayal, romance, and a fight for freedom.

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.

In the perilous waters east of Zanzibar, the ruthless Black Freek rules Pirates' Bay with an iron fist. His latest prize. Rynette du Bois and her father, held captive for a king's ransom.

But when a mysterious fighter called 'Loffie' joins the crew, the balance of power begins to shift. With deadly skill and a shared hatred of Black Freek, Loffie becomes the pirate king's most trusted ally, while secretly plotting an impossible escape.

For Rynette, he is a beacon of hope in a world of cruelty... until his darkest secret is revealed. Her would-be rescuer is none other than Oloff the Pirate, a name that strikes terror across the seas. Now caught between two merciless kings, she must decide whether her enemy is also her only salvation.

To save the woman who despises him, Oloff must risk everything. His life, his crew, and the secret that keeps him alive.

Fans of Pirates of the Caribbean and classic swashbuckling adventures will be swept away by this tale of love, betrayal, and high-seas peril.

Embark on the seventh unforgettable Oloff the Sea Pirate adventure today!

Textauszug

7. THE RANSOM

Chapter 1

Approximately five hundred miles east of Zanzibar, upon the submarine ridge that connects Madagascar and the Seychelles to its north, a mass of rock protrudes from the sea. Perpendicular, and in places even overhanging, steep cliffs of petrified granite encircle an area of about five square miles. Day in and day out, the roaring sea continues its assault on this rocky bastion. The cliff faces, smoothly scoured by countless breakers, are perpetually damp. This massive rock formation, which rises from the sea like a plateau, is called the beacon, often also referred to as Beacon Island.

It is rare for ships to pass this way, for the well-known trade routes to the East run south of Madagascar or north of the Seychelles. Moreover, the sea around here is treacherous, for in several places there are hidden rocky points a few feet beneath the surface.

On the south side of the Beacon, there is a fissure in the cliffs. This forms a gateway through which the largest sailing ship can easily navigate into a bay where the water is as smooth and calm as a mirror on the stormiest day. Fine wavelets lap at a snow-white beach. Where the sand ends, lush green vegetation begins, filling a large basin with a diameter of more than a mile. It is like an oasis nestled between the rocks, with high cliffs surrounding it to preserve its beauty. When the sky is dark with thunderclouds and the wind screams across the cold stone, the graceful palms barely sway their heavy fronds in the gentle breeze that wafts through this hidden paradise.

The gateway in the cliffs is inconspicuous. From an angle, it looks mainly like a ridge in the rock face. If someone does not know of the existence of this bay, they would never discover it unless they sailed right past the entrance and happened to look in that direction. This perfect fortress is called Pirates’ Bay.

In the calm harbour lie four privateer vessels. Three are rather small, but the fourth has two rows of gun ports on each side and boasts a total of forty-eight cannons.

Amongst the trees, right up to the cliffs, are numerous huts, and here and there also large, square mud buildings. Around the huts, patches of ground have been cleared and vegetable gardens laid out. At the foot of the cliffs, the bellowing of cattle and the bleating of small livestock echo. Here and there a light flickers, for it is already an hour or two after sunset. Many of the buildings are, however, shrouded in darkness, because the inhabitants have gathered at the meeting places, large, flat halls with low thatched roofs near the beach. In contrast to the fresh coolness of the evening outside, the air inside is warm, stuffy, and murky with heavy smoke fumes that hang around the large oil lamps on the ceiling. The loud laughter and shouts of the hundreds of pirates and their wives reverberate over the smooth water and crash against the granite cliffs.

On the right side of the bay, just where the vegetation begins on the edge of the beach, stands the largest of these halls. It is part of a building of which the rear section is a dwelling house. On either side of it is a high pole fence that runs to the cliffs, enclosing almost an acre of land. There are vegetable gardens and a few outbuildings. This is the residence of the captain of the large ship in the harbour, Black Freek.

In the large front hall, surrounded by the captains of the other ships, the officers, and a crowd of laughing, chattering women scattered throughout the room, Black Freek sits at one of the tables against the back wall. His full six foot six inches of powerful muscle is stretched out in an armchair. His face is dark, and his hair, eyes, and fierce beard are jet black.

An empty beer mug stands before him. His massive hand grips it and slams it hard onto the table top.

“The Admiral!” he bellows, “the Admiral of Deelen Bay is a fool! He is a fool if he thinks that I, Black Freek, will pour a single penny of my loot into his coffers.” He looks at the circle of faces around him. “Would you do it, Falcon?” he asks of one of them.

Valkenharm, one of the other captains, shakes his head. He does not answer. He knows Black Freek’s moods. As soon as he has drunk too much, he tolerates no opposition.

“Of course not!” Black Freek continues. “Here we are free. We sit in a rock-solid fortress from which no fleet in the world can drive us. From here, we can sail out and waylay the fattest prey on the open sea. Behind these massive walls, we can then find shelter again with our heavily laden ships.” He glares at them. “And none of us have to pay taxes! Here is a home for every man who entrusts his fate to Black Freek.” He wants to make them understand clearly what a privilege they enjoy. Again, he slams the beer mug on the table. “And where are they safer than here in Pirates’ Bay with me? Who is mightier than Black Freek?”

A few of those within earshot nod sedately. Others laugh as if they completely reject any such possibility. One of the captains mumbles something that is not entirely clear to Freek. “What are you saying there?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing.” The man makes an apologetic gesture. “Absolutely nothing,” he assures Black Freek.

“It sounded to me as if you said something about Oloff.”

“I didn’t!” the fellow exclaims anxiously. “But now that you mention it, you must admit that there are many stories told about this Captain Oloff. They say that there isn’t another...”

Grimbeeck decides it is better not to answer. It is quite clear that Black Freek is not really interested in anyone else’s opinion.

“Tell me!” Black Freek exclaims. “Which of you has ever encountered this Oloff?”

Nobody answers. They just shake their heads.

“Who of you has ever even seen him?”

“He mostly seeks his prey south of Madagascar, Freek,” Valkenharm ventures to say. “And you know yourself that we usually keep an eye on the trade routes north of here.”

“And then you believe the nonsense you hear?” Freek snaps at them.

“I would like to meet this Oloff, this man they call Oloff the Pirate, one day. I’d soon put him in his place.”

“They say! They say!” Black Freek bellows. His black eyes flash with the anger this conversation stirs in him. “Wait until one of us, until I, meet him! Then we can talk! Not about what they say, but about what we say!” He swings the mug through the air as if to sweep away all thoughts of Oloff before him. He looks around him. “Rynette!” he calls out harshly. “Why are you standing there half-asleep? Bring more beer.”

Several men at Black Freek’s table look at the girl he has spoken to. There is not one of them who is not aware of the beauty of the girl that Black Freek brought here the previous week as part of his loot.

Rynette du Bois moves behind a counter and places a few mugs on a tray. Her large dark brown eyes are soft, and the deep melancholy in them dominates her whole expression. She does not look up once while she is filling the mugs from a barrel.

Her dark hair hangs slightly over her face as she looks down at the tray in front of her. It casts a shadow over her fine, but noble nose and full lips. It is only around her mouth that there is a hint of defiance, as if, despite her downcast demeanor, she would fight like a tigress to defend herself against any act of violence.

“Hurry up!” Black Freek snaps at her from the other side.

She picks up the tray and carries it to his table. The men take a mug of beer one by one. Their eyes fixed on her all the while.

Black Freek swings one leg out from under the table. Over his shoulder, he yells at her. “Come here! Undo the buckle on my shoe. It’s pressing on me!”

Without a word, she kneels down before him. There is a sparkle in his black eyes as he looks down at her bowed head.

“She will probably be able to dance,” Valkenharm suddenly suggests.

Rynette du Bois’ head jerks up. There is anxiety on her face. Captain Grimbeeck laughs.

“Doesn’t it look as if she is scared?” he exclaims. “That means she can dance!”

“Let her dance, Freek,” Valkenharm requests.

Black Freek looks slowly towards them. Then he laughs loudly.

“Why not?” He slams the full mug of beer on the table, so that the foam splashes. “Dance, Rynette! You there!” he yells. “Move some of the tables aside. We have a dancer in our midst.”

She has slowly gotten to her feet. The fear has disappeared. With disgust, she looks at the men around the table in front of her and then at the rest of the crowd. Everyone is sitting eagerly forward. They are taking pleasure in her discomfort.

Valkenharm gets up. He steps around the table and takes her by the arm. Black Freek suddenly half rises. His black eyes are sharply fixed on them. But then he sinks back into the chair.

“We need music,” he shouts out loud. “Make music so that she can dance.”

A young pirate jumps up. The only instrument they can find is an old harp, some of whose strings are missing. With this, the pirate comes to the edge of the space that has been made available for her. He runs his fingers over the strings a few times, and the crowd roars with laughter. The instrument is completely out of tune.

“Dance!”

From all sides they are shouting at her, but Rynette does not move. She has clasped her hands in front of her. Her head is bowed.

“Maybe she should rather sing,” Black Freek suggests. “Sing, Rynette. Play something she can sing. Something sentimental.”

Loud exclamations and raucous laughter greet this proposal. The young...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 27.8.2025
• Übersetzer: Pieter Haasbroek, Ai
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-00-072739-3 / 0000727393
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-072739-8 / 9780000727398