…Or, How John Was Baptized Into Piracy.

After graduating from Oxford, John Sinclair had the misfortune of having an altercation with the nephew of the Crown’s advisor. A misunderstanding to be sure, none the less, his dream of following his father’s footsteps into the Royal Navy were keel hauled and marooned. His love of the sea lead him to signing on with the Belazzarian Trading Company as a ship’s physician. Six years of sailing to and from the Orient trading in silks and spices. One fateful trip met with disaster. A typhoon destroyed the ship he was sailing on and he washed ashore in what he would learn was Mangi. He found his way to the Drunken Ape temple where the monks took him in and helped him recover.

The year was 1550, it had been fifteen years since John had begun his life with the Shaolin monks. He had thought he would only be there a few months before finding a way home to England. No Europeans had been in the region for years so he remained, learning the local language and the ways of the monks, their philosophy, their herbalism, and eventually their fighting techniques. Already a trained physician, he took to their healing rituals like a fish to water, integrating their ways with his own. He had a gift, curing all manner of ailments. Soon the surrounding villages sent their sick and injured to the temple for John, or Sinclair-Yishi as they came to call him, to treat.

Recently, there had been more and more grievous injuries to the surrounding peoples. A band of marauders had come to the region terrorizing and brutalizing the villages. The monks chose to help by offering healing and food, rather than resort to violent ends. Though this senseless suffering of the people did not sit well with John, fighting his sense of honor he respected their decision and focused on healing. John spent his days doing what he could, healing those he could and easing the passing of those he could not. He spent his nights reliving the horrors he saw in his dreams. He began to understand why his father advised against joining the navy, the evil men are capable of during war was astounding. It began to wear on him, a deep anger boiling inside, threatening to explode as each day brought more tragedy.

One day, one of the village elders, Feng Chun was brought to the temple. He had been disemboweled, yet somehow still lived. They brought him to John to ease his passing. John’s rage seethed. This man had done nothing to deserve this end. He prepared a poppy tea to ease the pain and spooned it into the man’s mouth. A strange sensation came over John. He felt a warmth begin to grow, a slight glow about his skin. He placed his hands on the elder and felt energy surge through him into the man. His entrails writhed then shifted back into place. The muscles of his abdomen reformed and the skin knitted back together. Feng gasped, opened his eyes, and sat up.

“I thought I was dead. You saved me.”

John sat in silence, unable to grasp what had just happened. Word spread though the temple. John was summoned to Grandmaster Huang Qiang in the Hall of a Thousand Buddhas. He entered the hall and sat seiza before the Grandmaster. “You asked for me Huang-Sigung?”

“Yes, Sinclair-Yishi. You have done what has only been speculated as possible. You harnessed your Qi so powerfully to have healed someone from the brink of death. You have always been a gifted healer, but this is something more. Word will spread of this miracle. More will come for your healing. And, though this would be an honorable way to live, I believe word will also reach Chen Bao. He will likely bring his marauders full force against the temple and ask for your head. We will of course defend ourselves and you. But we must prepare.”

John sat in silence for a moment. Weighing his options, he could not allow himself to be the reason for more tragedy here. Coming to a decision he spoke, “I cannot be the reason for you and the others here to be harmed. You took me, a stranger, in, helped me recover and taught me your ways. I owe a debt of honor. I also know, if I simply flee, Chen Bao will still come and destroy everything and everyone here. I will bring the fight to him. I will go and kill him myself, or will die trying. Either way, the temple and the villages will be safe.”

The Grandmaster grimaced. “Lao Tzu said, violence, even well intentioned, always rebounds on oneself. What can this truly accomplish? Simply defending ourselves is one thing, what you plan will not result in anything but your ruin.”

“I was born in another place, raised with a different understanding of honor. I cannot allow others to come to harm on my behalf. I know I walk to meet death, and have no fear of this. With all respect and gratitude, I must go and do what I can. Thank you for indulging me all these years.” John stood and bowed. The Grandmaster bowed his head in return.

“May you find peace, Sinclair-Yishi. Remember you will always be welcome here.”

John went to gather supplies. Water gourds and dried fruits. He then grabbed a bo staff and a few knives. After saying a few farewells to his fellow monks, he embarked on a mission to dance with death either his own or Chen Bao’s.

He found the marauders’ encampment shortly after dark. These men clearly had no fear of an attack, having not set any kind of watch. Truthfully, only an imbecile or a madman would even attempt. At that moment John felt he was likely a bit of both. He crept to the edge of the camp. Slowly circling to ascertain where their leader may be. He reminisced on his younger days, evading his retinue to drink in the taverns. Then a dark memory of evading them and the Crown’s men to spend time with an ill-fated love. He shook that thought away, “Cannot lose focus.”

A few moments later he saw a large tent and smiled darkly. Chen Bao must be in there. Silently, he moved to the back of the tent and made a small slice in the canvas to peer inside. A small fire, a few chests, and a sleeping pallet were the only things he saw. He lifted the canvas up just enough to slide under. Deciding to lay in wait for Chen to come to him. Moving to the entryway he sat seiza to the side hoping to hear any approach and prepare to pounce.

A short while later he heard scuffling coming towards the tent and what sounded like a woman whimpering. “Quiet! Save your voice to scream for Chen Bao!” She was tossed into the tent, and it sounded like two men stood outside the entrance. Disheveled and scared, she yelped when she saw John. He raised his finger to his lips, hoping she would understand and remain quiet. She shuffled back, but did not make a sound. Soon, John heard another man approach and order, “Stay close, I may have need of food and another plaything.” A man a head shorter than John entered the tent, with a menacing stride toward the young woman. John waited for the flap to close and crept up behind the man grabbed him in a tight hold and placing a knife to his throat. “Chen Bao, I presume?”

The man struggled against John’s hold and exclaimed, “Assassin!”. John held him fast but spun him to use as a shield against the guards. The two men outside burst in and the sound of more coming rose from outside. “Kill me if you wish but you will not leave here alive.”

As John was about to respond he saw a bright burst of light then knew only unconsciousness. He awoke, a splitting headache threatening to send him back to the void. He was tied to a pole, a couple men sitting nearby laughing. “What do you think the boss will do with the foreigner?”

“Probably slow torture, make an example to the villagers of what happens if they resist. Or he’ll make him fight the traitor. A little sport for us all to enjoy. Then kill the winner.”

To his right, John saw another man tied to a pole. Still blurry eyed, he strained to surveil the situation. His vision finally focusing, he noticed the other man was pretending to be asleep, but was quietly working at his bonds. One of the guards got up to relieve himself a bit off in the darkness. The other prisoner, the “traitor” perhaps, finished releasing himself and snuck up to the remaining guard. With a quick twist of his hands and a tell-tale crack, he eased the guard down, neck broken. He grabbed the guard’s blade and quietly moved to John and cut his bonds. “Quiet now. We need to take care of the other one then flee.”

John stood; legs shaky. Shook his head to clear it, and almost fell again. “Bad idea, that,” John thought, then dropped to a knee. The “traitor” shook his head in what John hoped was sympathy but likely derision and crept into the darkness in the direction of the other guard. John finally got his legs under him and his headache became more of a dull throb. There was a muffled thud, and the “traitor” returned.

“You’re the Englishman from the temple that helps the sick and injured.”

John nodded, “Yes, guess there aren’t many others like me in the region. Thank you for cutting me loose. I am Sinclair John.”

The other man smirked and put his hand to his chest and said, “Tiger Lee. Let’s get out of sight before anyone comes to check on things here.” John followed him out of the camp. They quietly moved out aways from the camp and John stopped to look back. Tiger stopped and asked, “Are you a madman or just stupid? We have to get out of here quickly before they notice we’re gone.”

“Probably both. I came here to try and end the raids on the villages. I was hit from behind, not sure how since only a prisoner was behind me.”

Tiger Lee chuckled, “Yes, she probably was trying to hit Chen, but missed. He took it as her defending him and rewarded her with not having to spent time in his tent. Best to cut your losses, and leave.”

“I cannot. But time is of the essence now, surely, he will attack the temple soon. Even if I die, so be it so long as it prevents further innocent bloodshed.”

Lee thought for a moment, “Honestly, I’d like a little retribution myself. I am from a village far to the north. They raided us and took a few of us hostage, pressing us to join in raids on other villages. I was biding my time to try to escape, but when one of them sliced up an old man who wasn’t resisting, just for the fun of it, I couldn’t stand by any longer.” This reminded John of the press gangs back home that the Navy sometimes employed to man the ships. Lee continued, “They tend to sleep without a watch. They only had guards for us. We may be able to kill them quietly.”

The “battle thrill” as his father called it, cleared John’s head further. He and Lee moved through the darkness back into the camp. It seemed Lee was right, there was no one out and about. The only sounds were snores and the occasional flatulence. They decided to take one tent at a time. One sneaking in to cut throats and the other to keep watch. Methodically they dispatched the marauders, leaving pools of blood in each tent. Two tents remained, Chen’s and another. Lee pointed to the other and explained, “That’s where they keep the prisoners, we’ll release them after we take care of Chen.” John nodded his agreement and they moved to Chen’s tent.

Inside, Chen and two women slept. John slipped quietly up to Chen, placed his knife to his throat, then hesitated. Strangely he felt exhilarated, enjoying the kill nearly as much as he did healing others. “Maybe there’s balance in that,” he thought, “but no time to follow that trail at present.” Stealing himself he sliced Chen’s neck to the spine. Chen’s eyes darted open. A look of surprise, then recognition, then horror. Finally, the glassy emptiness of death.

The two women woke and began screaming and slapping at John. He deflected most of the flurry and attempted to calm them. Holding a bloody knife did not help the situation. Lee rushed in and soothed them. They then went to the final tent and released the other prisoners. After the initial shock wore off, they lead the group to the Drunken Ape temple.

After briefly letting the other monks know what had transpired, John retreated to the meditation hall, leaving the freed villagers in the care of the other monks. Lee followed John, joining him in the hall. After a few moments, Lee spoke, “A lot of death to grasp in one night. Takes time to come to terms with it.”

John sighed, “I have seen death many times as a physician and healer. I’ve even killed to defend myself and the ship when I sailed. It’s not the death that has me in a bother. It’s that I enjoyed it. I feel the only man that can help me with this is my father. It’s time I tried to find my way back home.”

Lee patted John’s shoulder, “As to that, when you said you guess there weren’t many like you in the region, that wasn’t entirely true. There is a merchant ship at the coast, trading for silks and other commodities. Maybe you could negotiate passage at least close to home. I myself, think it is time for a change of locale and may try my hand at sailing.”

With the prospect of returning home within his reach John decided to leave the temple. He said his farewells to the monks, the Grandmaster once again telling him he would always be welcome. John and Lee travelled together to the coast in hopes of catching the ship before it set sail. Luck was with them, and they found the ship, the Drunken Cutlass, making final preparations to leave.

They met with the Captain, Richard Smythe, he was willing to take Lee on as an able sailor. He inquired as to John’s skills, and apparently was in need of a ship’s physician, the carpenter currently filling the role with poor results. He informed them their home port was in England and John saw a new opportunity to see home as well as continue his dream of life at sea. The details settled; they embarked in the journey to what John believed was home.

A few weeks into the journey, John realized these were not simple seafaring merchants. Another merchant vessel flying French colors was sighted, and the captain issued orders to pursue and capture. John understood not to question in the moment and the Cutlass overtook the French vessel relieving it of its goods. After the dust had settled, John confronted Captain Smythe, the captain explained they were truthfully privateers, with a writ from the Crown of England. John decided this would suffice, not quite the dream of joining the Navy, but possibly more profitable.

And so, it was, John and Tiger Lee sailed on the Drunken Cutlass for five years as privateers. John even had times of leave to visit his family a few times. But alas this bountiful life of wind in his hair, freedom at sea, and money to spend was not meant to last. One day Captain Smythe ordered the crew to attack English merchant ship and the captain and crew of the Drunken Cutlass were branded as pirates. But that is another story.