Larry {the} Gardener
Well-Known Member
This story has been sitting for three or four years. Today I dusted it off and made a few changes. I spent a lot of time with these guys back when I was writing it. Kind of like running into old friends.
Hope you guys enjoy it.
Chapter 1 {part 1}
14 November 1717 [New Style]
Lars Pieper's behind was starting to hurt. He had sat in the fork of the little tree about as long as he could stand it. He turned the short telescope from the small village of Sedelsburg, where he was hoping to see some lady undressing, back to the Dorpen Canal, where he was supposed to be looking for barges. The canal was empty both ways.
He went back to looking in people's windows. He saw several women, a few of them just home from church. Sadly none of them were undressing. But Lars, being a thirteen year old boy, didn't let reality get in the way of a good fantasy. He went from window to window until he found the prettiest women and just imagined her undressing. Soon he was squirming in the fork of the tree and not just because his butt hurt.
He made a sweep of the other houses, then back to the canal.
“Oh shit!” There was a wheat barge coming down the canal and it was close. He must have looked at the pretty lady longer than he thought.
Lars slid down the tree and called out, “barge coming! It's an old man and a boy. And they are close, let's go.”
Lars' Uncle Anton wasn't happy. He had earned the nickname Ton because of his two hundred seventy five pounds. And he was not against throwing his weight around. This was his gang and he never let the others forget it. He said, “I told you to tell me in plenty of time. This is a job, you know. We are not out for a Sabbath afternoon boat ride.”
Looking up at the sun, Lars said, “it is the Sabbath afternoon, and we are going for a boat ride.”
Ton tried to backhand the boy. But Lars had feet as quick as his tongue. All Ton slapped was air.
“There is plenty of time if you will get going,” Lars said over his shoulder, as he ran and climbed in the wherry.
The Moormann brothers were already in the boat. They were lowering the leafy branches used to disguise the mast. When they had the branches removed, Josef stood by with the throat and peak-halliards in his hands, ready to raise the mainsail as Franz went to the tiller. August Merkel was standing at the bow, knee deep in the reed filled water, waiting to push the wherry out when Ton got aboard.
Ton wanted to argue with his nephew. He wanted to impress on him the importance of doing a job right, of having pride in your work. And now that Lars was in the wherry and couldn't dodge him, Ton wanted to knock the living shit out of him. But the barge was getting closer all the time, so he just climbed aboard.
August pushed them off and climbed in, rolling over the side. Once Josef had the mainsail set, he pulled the jib in place with the jib-sheets. The sails were big for the size of the wherry, and she responded to the wind quickly.
Ton couldn't help himself, he had to say something. He was the gang's leader, after all. It was his responsibility to instruct them. “Everyone knows your job, let's do this like professionals. No fuss, no muss. We have had a couple of setbacks lately, but this will make up for them. Let's go out there and get the job done the right way. You men make me proud today.”
They were in a creek beside the Dorpen Canal. There were a few trees growing on the dike here, a rarity in this low, wet land. A small side canal connected the creek to the main canal. It was right at three hundred fifty yards long. When the wherry reached the end of it and come out into the canal, they were already doing four knots and gaining speed with every passing minute. The barge, heavily loaded with wheat, had just passed. She was only doing about three knots.
The wherry overtook the barge and the men had the grappling hooks on her in four or five minutes. August was the first aboard, as he was the most skilled in this aspect of the operation. He ran up behind the bargeman, knocked him out with his sap and caught him as he fell. The bargeman was laid out on the deck within five seconds of August's feet touching the barge. He turned to the young boy, to take him out in the same manner.
Lars came running by him, his cutlass in the air. He let loose a crazy scream. The boy raised his hand, to ward off the blow. Lars slashed down with the cutlass, slicing through the boy's hand, and splitting his forehead. The boy looked just like he was using the back of his hand to check for a fever.
Except for the cutlass stuck in his forehead. Two fingers were on one side of the cutlass and two fingers and his thumb on the other side.
Josef had released the halliards and sheets, lowering the sails on the wherry. Franz climbed aboard the barge and took the tiller. August got a bucket of river water, brought it to the bargeman and held his head under until he was for sure drowned. No one said anything. It was Ton's place to discipline Lars for screwing up. He was the leader. And Lars was his nephew, anyway.
You never cut anybody if you could help it. And never, ever, did you cut a child. This was bad for their business.
August took a lot of pride in his work. He could hit someone with his sap so there would never be a broken bone and rarely a bruise. This was something you learned after years on the job. When they were down, then you drowned them at your leisure. He even used river water instead of the drinking water from the scuttlebutt. With all the modern improvements in criminal detection, you couldn't be too careful. The body would be carried downstream past the next town, so the location of the attack was in doubt. And when the body was found, all they knew for sure was a man had drowned.
There was a proper way to kill and rob people. August didn't like working with a crazy kid like Lars. The boy just had no respect for traditions.
Ton was thinking much the same thing. Why had his sister gone and got herself killed? Now that she was gone, he had to look after the kid. Some said Lars had killed his mother, but it was never proven. She had been chopped in the head though, just like the bargeman's boy.
Lars was trying to get his cutlass out of the boy's head, but it was stuck fast. He put his foot on the boy's neck and pulled up. The head lifted up, but the cutlass didn't come loose. Lars let it drop back to the deck with a thump. He seemed to like the sound. He went thump, thump, thump with the boy's head. He tried again to pull the cutlass free, this time putting his boot on the boy's chin. The cutlass stayed stuck. In a flash, Lars pulled his belt-knife and started stabbing the boy repeatedly in the chest and throat.
Ton ran and slapped Lars with his open hand. The boy went down hard and slid across the deck. Lars' head slammed against the deck-house and he lay still.
“Sweet Jesus preserves us. Please protect us from that Devil Child,” Ton said. He never failed to pray when there was trouble. Most other times he never gave the Good Lord much thought. Turning to the others, he ask, “what have we done to anger God so? And he is my own blood, that is the worst part. If I wasn't so firm in my faith, it could make a man have doubts about the Grace of God.”
The others just nodded their heads, not knowing what to say. The truth of the matter, they knew that Ton could be just as crazy as his nephew if something struck him the wrong way.
After a moment of deep reflection, Ton shook his head to clear the confusing thoughts and said, “Franz, take the bodies and get rid of them. We will be cleaning up here. I know a man in Heidbrucken, John Bert. He will buy the barge and the wheat.”
Franz said, “we need another boat if you can find one. It's been tough since we lost our other one.”
“I'll buy a boat while I'm there. John has a boatyard and there is always something for sale. Catch back up with us, and we will plan where to meet up. After this mess we need to put as many miles behind us we can.”
Placing the heel of his foot on the boy's chest with his toes on the chin, he pulled the cutlass free. He washed it off, and put it away where Lars couldn't get to it. Ton had to admit to himself, the boy scared the crap out of him too. Ton would fight anyone, anywhere, without fear. But the boy was just plain crazy, and you never knew when he was going to go off. It made it hard for a fellow to relax.
Hope you guys enjoy it.
Chapter 1 {part 1}
14 November 1717 [New Style]
Lars Pieper's behind was starting to hurt. He had sat in the fork of the little tree about as long as he could stand it. He turned the short telescope from the small village of Sedelsburg, where he was hoping to see some lady undressing, back to the Dorpen Canal, where he was supposed to be looking for barges. The canal was empty both ways.
He went back to looking in people's windows. He saw several women, a few of them just home from church. Sadly none of them were undressing. But Lars, being a thirteen year old boy, didn't let reality get in the way of a good fantasy. He went from window to window until he found the prettiest women and just imagined her undressing. Soon he was squirming in the fork of the tree and not just because his butt hurt.
He made a sweep of the other houses, then back to the canal.
“Oh shit!” There was a wheat barge coming down the canal and it was close. He must have looked at the pretty lady longer than he thought.
Lars slid down the tree and called out, “barge coming! It's an old man and a boy. And they are close, let's go.”
Lars' Uncle Anton wasn't happy. He had earned the nickname Ton because of his two hundred seventy five pounds. And he was not against throwing his weight around. This was his gang and he never let the others forget it. He said, “I told you to tell me in plenty of time. This is a job, you know. We are not out for a Sabbath afternoon boat ride.”
Looking up at the sun, Lars said, “it is the Sabbath afternoon, and we are going for a boat ride.”
Ton tried to backhand the boy. But Lars had feet as quick as his tongue. All Ton slapped was air.
“There is plenty of time if you will get going,” Lars said over his shoulder, as he ran and climbed in the wherry.
The Moormann brothers were already in the boat. They were lowering the leafy branches used to disguise the mast. When they had the branches removed, Josef stood by with the throat and peak-halliards in his hands, ready to raise the mainsail as Franz went to the tiller. August Merkel was standing at the bow, knee deep in the reed filled water, waiting to push the wherry out when Ton got aboard.
Ton wanted to argue with his nephew. He wanted to impress on him the importance of doing a job right, of having pride in your work. And now that Lars was in the wherry and couldn't dodge him, Ton wanted to knock the living shit out of him. But the barge was getting closer all the time, so he just climbed aboard.
August pushed them off and climbed in, rolling over the side. Once Josef had the mainsail set, he pulled the jib in place with the jib-sheets. The sails were big for the size of the wherry, and she responded to the wind quickly.
Ton couldn't help himself, he had to say something. He was the gang's leader, after all. It was his responsibility to instruct them. “Everyone knows your job, let's do this like professionals. No fuss, no muss. We have had a couple of setbacks lately, but this will make up for them. Let's go out there and get the job done the right way. You men make me proud today.”
They were in a creek beside the Dorpen Canal. There were a few trees growing on the dike here, a rarity in this low, wet land. A small side canal connected the creek to the main canal. It was right at three hundred fifty yards long. When the wherry reached the end of it and come out into the canal, they were already doing four knots and gaining speed with every passing minute. The barge, heavily loaded with wheat, had just passed. She was only doing about three knots.
The wherry overtook the barge and the men had the grappling hooks on her in four or five minutes. August was the first aboard, as he was the most skilled in this aspect of the operation. He ran up behind the bargeman, knocked him out with his sap and caught him as he fell. The bargeman was laid out on the deck within five seconds of August's feet touching the barge. He turned to the young boy, to take him out in the same manner.
Lars came running by him, his cutlass in the air. He let loose a crazy scream. The boy raised his hand, to ward off the blow. Lars slashed down with the cutlass, slicing through the boy's hand, and splitting his forehead. The boy looked just like he was using the back of his hand to check for a fever.
Except for the cutlass stuck in his forehead. Two fingers were on one side of the cutlass and two fingers and his thumb on the other side.
Josef had released the halliards and sheets, lowering the sails on the wherry. Franz climbed aboard the barge and took the tiller. August got a bucket of river water, brought it to the bargeman and held his head under until he was for sure drowned. No one said anything. It was Ton's place to discipline Lars for screwing up. He was the leader. And Lars was his nephew, anyway.
You never cut anybody if you could help it. And never, ever, did you cut a child. This was bad for their business.
August took a lot of pride in his work. He could hit someone with his sap so there would never be a broken bone and rarely a bruise. This was something you learned after years on the job. When they were down, then you drowned them at your leisure. He even used river water instead of the drinking water from the scuttlebutt. With all the modern improvements in criminal detection, you couldn't be too careful. The body would be carried downstream past the next town, so the location of the attack was in doubt. And when the body was found, all they knew for sure was a man had drowned.
There was a proper way to kill and rob people. August didn't like working with a crazy kid like Lars. The boy just had no respect for traditions.
Ton was thinking much the same thing. Why had his sister gone and got herself killed? Now that she was gone, he had to look after the kid. Some said Lars had killed his mother, but it was never proven. She had been chopped in the head though, just like the bargeman's boy.
Lars was trying to get his cutlass out of the boy's head, but it was stuck fast. He put his foot on the boy's neck and pulled up. The head lifted up, but the cutlass didn't come loose. Lars let it drop back to the deck with a thump. He seemed to like the sound. He went thump, thump, thump with the boy's head. He tried again to pull the cutlass free, this time putting his boot on the boy's chin. The cutlass stayed stuck. In a flash, Lars pulled his belt-knife and started stabbing the boy repeatedly in the chest and throat.
Ton ran and slapped Lars with his open hand. The boy went down hard and slid across the deck. Lars' head slammed against the deck-house and he lay still.
“Sweet Jesus preserves us. Please protect us from that Devil Child,” Ton said. He never failed to pray when there was trouble. Most other times he never gave the Good Lord much thought. Turning to the others, he ask, “what have we done to anger God so? And he is my own blood, that is the worst part. If I wasn't so firm in my faith, it could make a man have doubts about the Grace of God.”
The others just nodded their heads, not knowing what to say. The truth of the matter, they knew that Ton could be just as crazy as his nephew if something struck him the wrong way.
After a moment of deep reflection, Ton shook his head to clear the confusing thoughts and said, “Franz, take the bodies and get rid of them. We will be cleaning up here. I know a man in Heidbrucken, John Bert. He will buy the barge and the wheat.”
Franz said, “we need another boat if you can find one. It's been tough since we lost our other one.”
“I'll buy a boat while I'm there. John has a boatyard and there is always something for sale. Catch back up with us, and we will plan where to meet up. After this mess we need to put as many miles behind us we can.”
Placing the heel of his foot on the boy's chest with his toes on the chin, he pulled the cutlass free. He washed it off, and put it away where Lars couldn't get to it. Ton had to admit to himself, the boy scared the crap out of him too. Ton would fight anyone, anywhere, without fear. But the boy was just plain crazy, and you never knew when he was going to go off. It made it hard for a fellow to relax.