Date: Sun, 14 May 1995 23:35:56 -0700 Reply-To: Noah Johnson Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Noah Johnson Subject: Excerpts from the Diaries of Methos, Part Three EXCERPTS FROM THE DIARIES OF METHOS, PART 3 By Noah Johnson The further adventures of the world's oldest Immortal, as faithfully recorded by him in the longest and most extensive diary in history. This story is copyright 1995, by Noah Johnson. Permission is given to reproduce it, in its entirety, and including this notice. 10th June, 1718 AD My voyage to Barbados was sidetracked today. To my great annoyance, the ship on which I had passage, the _Bold Jason_, was captured by pirates. I took what I thought to be a prudent course, that of bolting the door to my cabin and waiting behind a makeshift barricade with a charged pistol in one hand and Excalibur in the other. Eventually, the seagoing brigands made their way around to my room, and I killed three of them before I was captured and brought before their chief, Edward Thatch, known also as Blackbeard. To my surprise, Thatch turned out to be an Immortal. He is a giant, big and broad, with a thick forest of black hair covering his head. My obsequiousness amused him, and he agreed to take me on as a pirate rather than kill me out of hand. With me I took only a small sack containing some clothing, and a sea-chest, containing this diary. As the _Jason_ sank behind me, I bunked down between two smelly, scarred sailors. Despite the inconvenience and disruption of my previous plans, this promises to be a most interesting sidetrack, if I keep my head. 21st June, 1718 AD Thatch is growing daily more doubtful of the story I have been giving him, that of a three-hundred-year-old leaving Europe to escape his past. Insofar as I can determine, Thatch himself is less than a century of age, though aggressive enough to have taken quite a number of heads. He reminds me in many ways of the Kurgan. 22nd June, 1718 AD Blackbeard has found me out. While I was in the rigging today, he broke into my chest and saw my diary. To my relief, he was unable to read it, but he did succeed in making out the name "Methos," and recognized it immediately. There are disadvantages to being a legend. He has yet to take my head; I believe he intends to wait until we reach a port, as there is precious little privacy aboard ship. I am not a large man, and this porthole seems to be just barely large enough for me to escape through. Florida is only seventy miles away. Thatch, if you happen to be reading this, you are not the first to underestimate me, and I do not intend for you to be the last. 15th July, 1718 AD Blackbeard is dead. Merchant seamen all over the New World have been relieved to learn of the demise of the last of the great Caribbean pirates. I am gratified to have my diary returned to me, that I may record what has happened over the last three weeks. It took me more than a week to wash up on a Florida beach. I am afraid the slaves who dragged my seemingly lifeless body out of the surf were terrified when I recovered from my drowning. I believe they ascribed it to voodoo magic, which I suppose is close enough to the truth. Once back in civilization, the coins secreted in my clothing served to put a few words in the ear of a Governor Spotswood, indicating Blackbeard's itinerary for the foreseeable future. A few more words whispered in the ear of a naval officer ensured that Edward Thatch will not be troubling me again. Apparently, Blackbeard's death is becoming something of a legend itself, mostly due to his unnatural vitality during the pitched fight that took his ship, as he was seen to fight ferociously on despite several apparently mortal wounds. However, after finally succumbing to apparent death, he was beheaded by the officer I had spoken to before. He laughed when he told me he had done it, but I am gratified to know that my request was followed to the letter. Thatch's is one Quickening I do not miss. The cargo of his ship was impounded by the Navy, of course, but this is a young society, and bribes are still cheap. My possessions, including, of course, this diary, were returned to me, listed as "lost" on the naval invoice, a condition not unlike that in which I live. =========================================================================