1 Lost books

The clouds of dust stood from the pile of books that had just crumbled to the floor. I should have been accustomed to dust, but I had to sneeze. Three times. Reaching for some tissue to rid myself of the snot and grime I looked up from the books and into a pair of baby-blue eyes. The owner, a man in his late twenties, stared at me until I raised an eyebrow, silently inquiring what the hell he wanted.

“Ehm, I was told I could sell some old books here?”

The man looked confused. I sneezed again.

“So sorry,” I apologised while wiping my nose. Way to make a good first impression.

“You can.” I wiped my hands before picking up the six books from the floor. He looked even more confused. With a sigh I elongated my answer, adding a smile to soften my voice.

“You can sell old books here.”

He smiled at me, and I swear I could hear birds sing and see the sun break out even though it was the middle of February in Edinburgh.

“Fine, I want to sell these.”

He gestured to a small crate full of books that stood on the desk. How had I not noticed him entering the shop? I studied him from the corner of my eye; normal build, not that much taller than me, brown fluffy hair and the before-mentioned eyes. Add a smile that was sure to break a heart or ten and you had yourself a winner. He didn’t look comfortable in a place like this, and I doubted the books were of any value. He seemed as though he never had opened a book by the way he was studying the surroundings.

“Sure, I`ll just take a quick look to see if there`s any we will buy.”

His face fell some, did he think I would just hand him money without checking what he had for me?

I walked over to the crate and moved the old atlas I had been studying before I was interrupted by the noise of the falling books, and spread them on the desk.

“Where did you get them?”

He stood way too close, looking into the box beside me.

“I was tidying the attic of an apartment I inherited here, and I found them in a desk. A friend recommended you guys.”

I took the cotton gloves I used for old books and gently lifted out the top one. It wasn’t a collectible or wasn’t meant as that. It had been used, there were stains and folds in the paper. I recognized the author. I checked the exterior of the book to see if it was safe to open it.

“Well?”

I had almost forgotten the seller. His Irish accent was loud under the high ceiling. I continued the examination without looking at him, I wish I were alone with the books.

“This is an old travel-book.” I told him. “Travels over England, Scotland and Wales.”

I heard my voice went into a higher pitch; it always did that when I got excited.

“James Brome was a vicar who wrote about his travels. The first edition was under a pseudonym, so this has to be the one from 1700.”

I opened the book slowly and saw the year.

“How much money are we speaking?”

I saw the pound signs in his eyes and hastened to calm him down. “There isn’t that big of a marked for his books, even if it is a first edition.” I thought about it,

“Maybe 120-130 pounds?”

I saw his face fell; my exaltation had made him think it was time to cash in the retirement money.

I laid the book away and wrapped it in paper, then I took the next one. This one we had a version of here already, but it was quite popular. I smiled at the man, “You might find this interesting; this is a compilation of letters so to speak, written by John Dunton to a fake lady friend. He talks about his travels around Ireland, and he isn’t writing about landscapes only, it`s about all sides of the Gaelic life in the late 1600`s.” I showed him the first pages and I saw him smile.

“Oh, wow, that’s where I`m from.” He pointed at the word Mullingar.

“He talks about several towns in the first letter, Mullingar one of them.”

The book was a bit weathered; it was from 1698 and had been used. “I`m a bit uncertain about the value, I have to check with my partner, but I reckon something in the 200 range.”

The man nodded and I took a deep breath, savouring the smell of him. Usually, the smell of old books was my favourite, but it had competition today. He lost his smile for a second before turning to me, “I`m so sorry, mum would have slapped me.” He reached out his hand and reflexes made me take it.

“I`m Cian.” He continued to shake my hand, “And I`m Jamie.” I said with a smile. This was awkward. Eventually he let go of my hand and I dragged my attention over to the books again. Scratch books, the next one was more of a pamphlet. It looked like it was pages from an old newspaper, and I took out some plastic folders so I could put the pages into them right away. I may have seemed overtly cautious, but I had learned the hard way that value could hide in the funniest places. I took a breath; the pages smelled of old tobacco, not an unpleasant smell.

The man-Cian, I corrected in my head, was getting a bit impatient as I was struggling to read the archaic English in small letters. He tried to read over my shoulder, and I was getting distracted.

“Composed by Captain Henry Every”

His voice was made for reading out loud and I felt a shiver caused by his closeness. I looked over my shoulder and into his eyes. “Now this, this is awesome.” I tried to hide my geekiness but gave up. “This is a ballad so to speak, proposedly written by Henry Every himself, although most experts have disputed that.”

Cian`s eyes were blank.

“Henry Every?”

I felt my brain go into scholar mode.

“Henry Every should by all means be the most famous pirate, he was one of the most successful and one of the few who didn’t end up getting caught and killed. In 1695 he and his pirate friends took down the Ganj-i-Sawai, one of the trading ships that belonged to the Mughal emperor. The ship was a part of a convoy on its way from Mocha to India, filled with pilgrims heading home after hajj in Mecca and loaded with treasures.”

I looked at him to see if I had his attention and flinched when I saw his face just inches away.

“Every and his men got away with values that equals approximately 90 million pounds today.”

“90 million?” His eyes widened. “What did he do with them?”

I walked over to the coffee-pot, “Do you want a cup? I have tea or soda as well.” Cian took one of the pamphlets that I`d laid in the folder and sat in one of the chairs. All the furniture were well used and old, but they were comfortable. We had chairs and sofas placed all around the big room, so if you found a book you wanted to take a closer look at, a place to do so was never far away. I had to take rounds at closing-time to make sure there weren`t anyone sitting in them.

“I`ll take a cup o` tea, please.” I saw him examine the small words as I prepared the cups. Before I got to ask, he looked over at me, “Just one sugar, no milk.”

I handed him the warm cupper and continued. “Every shared his wealth with his men, giving them 1000 pounds each, along with precious gemstones when they reached Bourbon.” I sat down in the other chair and sighed when I took a sip of the warm coffee. “You can imagine, here we had Captain Every getting away with the biggest treasure in the world, and that was after he had shared it with others that helped him. He`d pissed of the Grand Mughal of India, and the English Navy as well, he was the most wanted man in the world."

Cian leaned forward, smitten by the story.

“Come all you brave boys,

Whose courage is bold,

Will you venture with me, I`ll glut you with Gold?”

I waved the pamphlet carefully. “That is the opening verse from this ballad. Maybe Every wrote it himself, most likely some of his men talked about his adventures and someone decided to cash in on the fame.”

I saw his eyes glitter, who doesn’t love a good pirate story?

“How do you know all this?”

I blushed, I spent my days and many evenings as well holed up here. I love my job but sometimes I forget that most people don’t live like this. “I read a lot. And this is a story that has it all.”

“What happened to Henry? You said he wasn’t captured?”

I nodded and put down the coffee-cup. “He and his men fled to Bourbon as I said, some of the crew decided to stay there, even though it was a price on their heads. The rest set sail for Nassau in the Bahamas, a popular place amongst pirates. That`s a long way, you have to travel halfway around the world. The English had declared the pirates hostis humani generis, which translates to “enemies of the human race”.”

Cian touched my knee briefly to halt me, “Why the Englishmen? It was The Mughal`s ship, right?”

Inside, I was so happy that he found it interesting, people usually fell asleep when I started talking.

“To put it short, Henry had fucked up the relationship between India and England. The Crown had to pay retribution and Aurangzeb, the Mughal, was close to expelling all Englishmen from India. And you know what that would mean.” I nodded towards his cup of tea. He gasped in a mocking fashion and I had to laugh. Humour as well, good to know.

“Now as to Henry, he disappears. There are records of some of his men being executed later on, some in America. That would have made sense, there were places in America that didn’t like the English Crown much, that would hide you, especially if you paid. He may reappear as one Benjamin Bridgeman, legend has it that he ended his days in Ireland or in Devon as a poor man just a few years later. Others will have it that he founded a kingdom in Madagascar with his money.”

We both were quiet for some time, nipping to our cups. I stood up and lifted out another book, I frowned. “Was it a close relative that owned the books?”

Cian shook his head, “No, an old aunt to my mother. How so?”

I tried to hide my grin as I held up the last book. “It seemed she had diverse interests. This is “La Philosophie Dans Le Boudoir.”

Cian was blank again, “I don’t understand; Philosophy in the Bedroom?”

I pointed at the author, “This is written by Donatien Alphonse François, more commonly known as Marquis De Sade.”

I watched as the men had their way with the women on board the Ganj-I-Sawai. Sparkes dragged one over to me and offered me a bite, but I refused. She had probably been usen by twenty men by now. I spat at the floor and climbed on deck to check on the findings. The people on board the ship had hidden most of the treasures and they were slow to reveal where. At some level I was impressed by their loyalty, but in the end, I didn’t see the point. We would find out. The rays from the Indian sun burned merciless, we had to leave soon.

As the days and night of killing, torture and rape went by, we found gold and coins beyond our wildest imagination. It was a wonder the ship kept afloat. Gemstones in all kinds of colours, gold and silver coins, jewellery meant for the Mughal and his family. I picked up a necklace with a big diamond attached. I had taken this from a woman myself. She had been tortured and used by the men several times, she was beaten and broken. If what she said was true, she was the wife of the Mughal, at least one of them. As I had ripped the necklace from her swollen neck, she got up on her old feet and threw herself at sea.

I gave orders to my second in command to start boarding The Fancy again, it was time to set sail. “What about the survivors?” I dropped the necklace in the case, “Just let them go. Let them return home and tell the tales of Captain Henry Every.”