Wings of Pegasus

William McNaulty was a feared pirate of the east coast of the Americas as his crew was seasoned and expert at weaving in and out of the tricky nuances of the long coast line.  He had issues with the current king of England who wanted the colonies to pay for the expensive war being waged with the French.  His smuggling and lucrative black market enterprise had made him a wealthy man to be reckoned with as he owned some prized real estate on the Carolina coast near Charleston that had become a paradise for pirates.

Unlike the legends that would grow from these low life outlaws, pirates were nothing more than discontents with access to means to wage their protest against the mighty British frigates that sailed the Atlantic Triangle keeping the merchants safe from attacks from these malcontents. William McNaulty known as Bushwhacking Bill who would fly the black flag of the skull and crossbones had a reputation almost as notorious as William Teach and his crew would go to the gallows as to snitch on him in a British court. One of the known facts was that he had graduated from Cambridge as a young welp and when he could not find a position in the financial district, signed on as a crew hand aboard a rum runner.  He would have been a happy man until on one his voyages, the ship stopped off in an African port to pick up some human traffic.  He saw their black faces, their sad eyes, their hands and feet in shackles as they were led on board where a man with a whip would lay open their flesh if they weren’t moving fast enough.  It was quite disturbing to see their dark skin laid open in crimson red.  During the voyage, more than a few would smuggle themselves on deck and leap into the white capped waves rather than face what was waiting for them on the American shores.

“William, you wished to see me?” Captain James bid him into his chambers as they neared Charleston.

“Why are we transporting these ignorant Africans?” He asked before he took his seat.

“Money, my young lad.” James smiled like a serpent before opening his jaws on an unsuspecting mouse.

Make no mistake about it, Bushwhacking Bill did what he did for money, but he refused to become part of the profitable human trade, there was enough profit in the smuggling of dry goods without dirtying his hands on what he considered an inhumane trade.  Sure they were savages from a primitive land, but they were human nonetheless and his mother drilled into him at a young age that humans were God’s children with souls and grace. He was sure his grace from God had long run out, but he would not partake in such an endeavor. 

He was no humanitarian with his bold nickname and some of his antics spoke of a different sort of cruelty, but he saw how the British sailors operated in the open sea without regard for maritime laws or decency and he would repay them in kind when he had the chance. He would take the mainmast rigging in his hands as his ship rode the rough waves onto another target.  His men would disable any of the merchant ship’s defenses, tie up the crew, remove the cargo, tip his hat to their captain who was tied like the rest of the crew as he exited the ship.  He would hear some pretty rough language coming from the mouths of the crew as they left, but it did not bother any of them to hear such foul language. 

Other pirates seemed to plunder for the sake of gaining wealth, but Bushwhack Bill wanted notoriety, something that would make him stand out from the rest like Blackbeard William Teach who was terrorizing merchants from up north.  In some of the ports, the merchants had posted warning signs claiming that piracy would be punished by the end of a rope.  There were many local citizen groups who were posting gripes and complaints against the British rule especially in regard to taxation.  Having been raised as a gentleman, William attended many of the meetings in Charleston and made a couple of impressive public addresses that were quoted in the newspapers.  

Agnes was William’s wife who had faithfully given him three healthy children cementing him as a solid citizen of community even though many knew his occupation as pirate.  

“For a notorious outlaw, you certainly have a legitimate side to you, Cap’n.” Raul, his first mate, noted during one of their voyages to the Caribbean.

“A man must have many facets to his character.” He remarked as he peered through his glass out at the gray and white horizon.  

“That would be you, sir.” Raul laughed exposing his missing teeth rotted out for his love of good and not so good rum.  

“Bay Company ship on the starboard.” Yelled the lookout from the crow’s nest.  Quickly he swung his glass to that direction and saw the shadow of a sail in the distance. 

“Set starboard course.” He commanded once he confirmed his sighting. 

In the hour, the ship flying the company flag came into view, but as she steered away from William’s ship the hull of the merchant ship exploded and in minutes disappeared under the waves.  Still William commanded them toward the wreckage in case survivors were in the water.  It amazed him the lack of evidence the ship had left behind, but upon a plank of wood there was a sailor floating face down on the wood.  It took them just a few minutes to fish the survivor off the plank.  His name was Busby and his skin was ebony black, his head was shaved and not a single strand of hair protruded from his waxed scalp.

It took about an hour before he was fully conscious.  Captain McNaulty introduced the fortunate man to some of his crew as he continued to cough up small bits of the salty sea.

“I seen it yasah.” He proclaimed.

“Seen what, mate.” William smiled warmly.

“Wings of Pegasus.” He sniffed and closed his eyes.

“What might that be, mate?” William was intrigued. 

“In da ancient ruins of da los’ city was da gold wings.” He nodded.

“Gold ya say?” William ran his hand over his clean shaven chin.

“Aye.” The man burped.

“You are a lucky man, Busby.” William proclaimed.

“Aye.  Seen angels coming for me from them gray skies, but dey turned out to be gulls.” He laughed.  

As it turned out Busby was part of a conspiracy on board who was going to ransom the ship once it got to port, but one of the conspirators accidentally set off the gunpowder that sent the Mistress of the Mist to the bottom in less than ten minutes all hands on board, except him.  They were set to grab the Wings of Pegasus that according to the map sat in three fathoms of ocean water off the coast of Bermuda.  Looking at the map Busby managed to salvage, Captain McNaulty knew that these waters were treacherous in places with sharp rocks and uncharted hazards that had once turned the area into a ship graveyard, but if Busby was right the gain was truly worth the effort.  These wings were made entirely of gold and sculpted by Pythokritos during the fourth century B.C. during the height of the Hellenistic period.  Busby repeated the story he had heard which William raptly listened to as he described the man who had sculpted the Winged Victory, had designed this statue of the mythological flying horse with wings of gold, but when the city disappeared in Atlantic after a horrific earthquake, the famous landmark sculpture was lost as well.  While the horse was lost in wreckage, the wings survived due to the fact they were made of a malleable metal.  Over time these golden wings travel in the ocean currents.

“Three fathoms?  I have divers who can manage that depth.” William contemplated.

“Ya has the map.  We can go see fo’ ourselves.” Busby smiled and winked.

Setting the course for Bermuda, Captain McNaulty went in search of the golden wings.  His men were apprehensive, because many felt that Busby was leading them into a trap where a fleet of frigates were waiting to take their ship Royal Bohamme to the bottom.  The waters near the island were shallow, too shallow for the bow of a schooner like William’s ship, so they anchored about three miles from the sight and got into one of the long boats.  With the boat occupied with Busby, the captain, Old Walt who had superior lung power and Mitch Rahoun who was still a young lad with equal lung power, they would match the waves as they made their way to the where the golden wings supposedly lay in the shallow water. 

The channel was clear, not a single frigate in sight or any other vessels for that matter.  Busby was smiling like some sort of pundit leading them to the Promised land.  William could only imagine the horror of the crew of the Mistress of the Mist as she sank with all hands on deck.  It was a miracle Busby had survived, but then there were men in his crew that were more than suspicious including Mitch who claimed he heard Busby utter voodoo prayers before falling off to sleep.  This was common since many of the dark skinned people from Africa used voodoo as a defense against the cruelty of slavery,  William had also heard many of the slaves in the fields around Charleston singing hymn without any of the foremen knowing that these beautiful gospel hymns were prayers to God to save them from slavery like Moses did his people from Pharoah.  Voodoo or gospel, it was all part of the way of these poor slaves to cope with a cruelty beyond comprehension.  

Agnes, like him, had no use for slavery, but since the area depended on an agrarian economy, slavery seemed like an economical solution.  While she tolerated this for a while, when she saw a provost bring a wagon filled with runaways that had been hunted down and killed, she realized how horrible this system really was and how the provost enjoyed the coon hunting as they called it.  She had attended many of the local soirees where colored women dressed in formal attire attentively waited on the guests. 

“I get dat for ya miss.” One of them once said to her when Agnes went to get some more punch out of the punchbowl.

“It’s okay, I can get it.” Agnes smiled and was surprised when the woman did not smile back.

“Oh naw miss.  If’n they see me not doin’ dat, they will punish me.” She waved her hand and Agnes let the woman fetch her a glass of punch.  

Many of his crew had come from some of the places that owned slaves and their trust in a man like Busby was not acceptable. 

“Here.” Busby pointed and in the sparkling water, against the white sand on the bottom, William could see the golden wings.  How beautiful they seemed even at nearly eighteen feet underwater.  The bright sunlight made these wings sparkle like a treasure he had never seen before.  Walt and Mitch smiled as they stripped off their shirts and boots until they had nothing on, but their skivvies.

“Permission to leave the vessel, cap’n.” Walt smiled.

“Permission granted.” He nodded as both him and Mitch jumped into the brine.  He could see them sink to the bottom without much effort with Mitch reaching the golden wings first.  Then without knowing why, Mitch started to flail.  Walt went to his aid, but then he began to flail.  A couple of moments later, both men popped their heads up from the water. 

“What happened?” William asked.

“I dunno.” Walt coughed up some of the seawater.

“It was as if them wings wanted to pull me into deeper water.” Mitch appeared perplexed. 

“Dey be cursed.” Busby nodded.

“Cursed?” Walt repeated. 

“I hear they put the curse on them wings.” Busby sniffed. “Mabbe I go down dere.” 

“Be my guest.” Walt grunted as he pulled himself back into the longboat as Mitch just had his hand hanging on the side of the boat.

“I’ll go down there with you.” Mitch shrugged.

“Ya welcome ta.” Busby took a deep breath and forced himself down into the water.

“It was crazy, cap’n.  I ain’t never felt nothing like it.” Walk bowed his head.

“It’s alright.  We’ll get them.” William stood up and looked over the side of the boat.  He could see both Mitch and Busby struggle to lift the wings out of the sand.  It almost seemed as if there was nothing but air between the bow of the longboat and the sand where the wings were wedged.  Both men began to ascend without the wings. William could not understand since objects weighed less in water, but this seemed to weigh much more than he had anticipated.

“Cursed.” Busby spit out some water.

“What do you mean?” William asked.

“Old voodoo curse to those who would libertate dem wings.” He said as he used his hand to wipe the water from his eyes.

“I tried, sir, but it’s like they are part of the sea.” Mitch shook his head.

“What can we do about this curse?” William asked.

“Once curse, he who puts da curse is only one can take it away.” Busby explained. 

When William looked up, he saw the shadowy outline of a well armed British frigate.

“I think we’d better clear out.” He pointed to the ship as it approached the channel.

“We can’t leave them here.” Walt shook his head.

“Or what, become prisoners of the British.  They do not look kindly on our kind.” William pointed out.

“We can get it.  One more time.” Walt pleaded knowing that this was worth more than they had ever plundered.

“By that time, that ship will be within range.” William knew the speed of his enemy.

But Walt jumped into the water and swam down as the frigate got closer.

“I don’t like hanging around with that.  If she sees us, she will fire.  We won’t have a chance.” Sitting on a bench, Mitch and Busby grabbed the oars and began to paddle.  No one would see Old Walt struggle to breath as he managed to get the golden wings out of the sand, but then the weight of the wings began to press on him and he could not get to the surface.

They say drowning is really a peaceful way to go and as Walt’s lungs filled with seawater, he saw the wingless horse gallop toward him as everything turned to black, his body would be found crushed by a pair of golden wings.  

As soon as they got back to the ship, Captain McNaulty ordered his men to set sail  with the shadow of the frigate heading due north toward where he had dropped anchor.  With crisp wind at their back, the schooner was able to outrun the heavily armed ship.  

“Sir, where is Busby?” Mitch asked as soon as he got on board.  

Looking around, William did not see Busby, “I dunno.”  

Sailing back into the jagged coast of Carolina, William would scuttle his ship and never sail again.  He would neglect to make a log entry about his exclusion and never speak of them again.  

Pirate legends are common, because the sea is the source of many mysteries, but there are some legends that never seem to disappear even if the source of the legend is never reported seen again.  William McNaulty was content to take long walks around the harbor and listen to some the tales the seafarers would tell on the docks when they were on shore.  A few times he caught wind of the tale of the golden wings of Pegasus, but none of them had ever claimed to lay eyes on the treasure. He would survive long enough to see independence from England even though the British navy had blockaded the harbor for a few months.  William knew that no blockade would ever completely stop runners who would weave in and out of the shipping lanes.  His son would go on and become part of the establishment as a city counselor while his daughter would marry a hardworking smithy.  When he finally passed, some of his old crew showed up for his funeral, but not one of them spoke of his search for the golden wings. 

While many old sailor tales refer to the golden wings of Pegasus no one had ever seen this elusive treasure to this very day though there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that it is still out there, somewhere.