The Loyal Lieutenants Act Ten Scene Two Sub Scene Four

 

Act Ten

Scene Two

Sub-Scene Four

Pompey has gone sailing.

 

“Boss, Pompey escaped by the rear. He must have run out before we were hit.” Enobarbus had conducted a search of the warehouse. He could not find Pompey and asked the surviving boys.

“He took off to the pier.” Enobarbus was told.

“Search the pier and all the other warehouses. He may be holed there.” Mark gave the order. He then got one of the drivers to drive to the pier. He looked down the pier. There were the usual kiosks there, but at the hour, they were unmanned. And the fishermen with the rods were missing. He noticed the fishing boats were there—dinghies and row boars they were. The bigger fishing boats only docked when there was a catch to unload and then anchored near the pier, or they may cluster at sea in case of a storm.

Mark approached the old man wearing the wader pants—the rubber pants that reached to the chest preferred by the fisherman—standing at the start of the pier. He was holding the corncob pipe in his right hand. A farmer whittled a pipe out of a corncob way back in 1869. The old man saw Mark then.

“I guess I will get the ‘burnt end’ today. No fish to hook on.” The fisherman looked at Mark. “You want to rent a boat? Be my guest, but get out further from the wharf. And seriously, get the correct suit on. That one will earn you no marks with your tailor.”

“No, old man. I am not here to fish.” Mark told the other. “I am...”

“So, you are the ones causing the noise. They are sea creatures; they hear noises; they think it is the nets. They will dive deep.” The old man sighed. “I lost my catch today. Who are you shooting? I thought most of the owl hoots died in Missouri with Jesse James, then retired to Arkansas.”

“Well, some escaped, and I was chasing one.” Mark told the old man.

“Lawman huh? Charlie Basset was my relative. He stood with Wyatt Earp and Bat Masterson at Dodge.” The old man smiled. “Yours may be the one that took the boat an hour ago. He was in a mighty hurry, like the devil at his rear.”

“Thanks, old man. Where was he headed?” Mark asked.

“By my reckoning, he was on that floating pier there. It is a pontoon, and I tell you...” The old man toned down to a whisper. “It is where the hoods keep their loot. I called that place Long Silver Pier.”

“Thanks, old man.” Mark smiled. He saw Enobarbus approach him.

“We are going sailing.”

“Sailing is not my best... I get seasick.” Enobarbus muttered. He was left behind, while Mark took to the nearest boat and sailed there alone. He had borrowed an Enobarbus submachine gun. It was a short ride, and then he saw the boat next to the floating pier. The boat was about a hundred feet in length and fifteen feet from portside to starboard. The wheelhouse was at the helm, and to the stern was the cabin. Nets were seen by the boat sides.

Mark turned the boat he was on to round the pier. He was looking for signs of any traps or ambushes.

The shots came from the wheelhouse. The bullets hit the woodwork of the boat, and Mark steered away. He took a wide berth and then came to the stern of the fishing boat. He rammed the fishing boat there to disable the engine and rushed aboard the other boat. He leaned on the cabin wall and then peeked through the cabin window there. The cabin was empty, with some wooden crates there. He looked over the side of the cabin and saw Pompey leaving the boat towards the floating pir. Pompey was with one of his boys; they were carrying shotguns. The pier was filled with wooden crates that were used to store the catch. There was a cabin at the stern and two small cranes on the helm. The wooden crates gave cover to Pompey and his boy.

“Pompey, give up. You will be...”

“Never!” Pompey shouted back. “Come and get me if you dare.”

Mark crouched down and ran along the side of the boat. He reached the wheelhouse and saw the bags there. He opened it and saw the money inside.

“Pompey, you left your money behind.” Mark called out.

“Keep it.” Pompey said. It was then that the diesel cans were tossed onto the boat, and the flaming wick impacted there. The fire burst out, and soon the boat deck was on fire. Mark had no option but to move towards the pier. He rushed out and jumped towards the pier. He found cover behind some crates before the bullets impacted them.

“Last chance, Pompey.” Mark called out.

“Lieutenant, I am not giving up.” Pompey roared out. “We will end this now and let the sharks feed either of us.”

“Why, Pompey?” Mark asked. “You were freed by Caesar. Why the need to revolt? Was it Brutus’s idea?”

“Freed? If you say I am a slave to Caesar, I may agree to that. Would you be a slave to Caesar? I have an oversight. Lieutenants are slaves, right?”

“I served the Romans. I am...” Mark hit back.

“A lieutenant is a slave, Mark Antony. I am not one. I am Genous Pompey. I will be my own Caesar.” Pompey roared out. “I will reign, and one day, my son will be Caesar. He is unaware of this. He will know one day.”

Mark thought hard about that. Is Junior innocent here? But what of Brutus?

“Is Brutus involved? Why did Cicero mention Brutus?”

“Cicero was a fool. He wanted your wife, and he added in Brutus to confuse all of you. I am the main provocateur here. Brutus was never involved. Like my son, Brutus will be acknowledged after my victory. I will walk to the consul as Caesar then.”

“Pompey, you are taking responsibility for...” Mark had to confirm.

“Yes, I am. Why not? The last civil war was mine, too. Crassus was the follower.” Pompey laughed. “All of them were fools.”

“I …...” Mark saw the other boat sailing to the other side of the pier. He saw Enobarbus on it with some boys, and they were armed. He knew what was going to happen. Mark stood up and fired at the boat to tell them to back off, but they were out of his sight when the boat went to the back of the cabin on the pier. Mark had to duck down when Pompey fired at him.

“Stop!” Mark called out and heard more shots. He looked up and saw that the boat that was carrying Enobarbus had reached Pompey’s rear. He saw that the boy who followed Pompey was surrendering, but the shots rang out and killed him. Mark rushed over and could not find Pompey there. He looked at the dead one and sighed. It was the Enobarbus that stepped onto the pier.

“Why did you shoot?” Mark levelled his submachine gun at Enobarbus.

“Boss, he was shooting at us. It was a retaliation. A reflex of the shoot.” Enobarbus spread his arms. Mark lowered the gun and looked for any signs of Pompey.

“Pompey fell into the sea, wounded then. I doubt he will survive.” Enobarbus looked at Mark. “It is over.”