A Pirate's Life for Me

The waves crashed against the boat, allowing it to rock from side to side. Rain pattered against the wooden boards of the ship making it sound like millions of pebbles dropping from a bucket onto a wooden floor. The ship had been at sea for months now and it was looking as if they would never return. At least those were the thoughts that ran through the mind of Jeremy, a low-ranking deckhand who was currently on his hands and knees with a scrub brush in one and a rag in the other.

His vision illuminated by a singular lantern suspended from a rusted metal hook on a beam that swayed back and forth as the ship tossed itself from side to side. Jeremy breathed heavily, sucking the stale air into his lungs with each swish of the brush and swipe of the rag. One stain on board was giving him trouble. He scrubbed furiously on the large greasy-red stain, his arms were flaring with pain and ached for a break. But his shift would not be over until the sun rose. And so, he worked tirelessly into the night.

He had not been to this side of the ship yet, he believed it to be a storeroom of sorts. For the only things that lined the walls were boxes and barrels of many sizes. It was an hour later when Jeremy finally decidedto take a rest, he clambered over to one of the smaller barrels and placed his back against it. He stared at the lantern that hung from the metal hook, it's light flickering across the room with a soft dim golden glow. He thought of the sea, and the constant motion in which it brought with it. He had wished nothing more than carrying his luggage onto a boat and sailing away to some far-off distant land in search of treasure and the perils that it brought with. He though of jumping from ship to ship, sword in hand and ready to strike down his opponent that faced him. Oh, how his heart ached to be there, to be in the moment with all the chaos. Oh, what he would not give.

Pulling himself to his feet he walked over to where he had placed his brush and rag. Sighing he picked up his brush, and met with a sharp and stinging pain, acting purely out of emotion he chucked the brush against the far wall. With a loud snap oat collided against a board and fell to the ground with a clang. Jeremy's chest heaved up and down, his hands balled into fists. His right hand stung, it felt like a bee had stowed away on their ship and was now tormenting his hand alone.

He walked over to the now fallen brush uttering curses under his breath. As he bent down the lantern had shifted its light over to the wall. With the dusky yellow light now illuminating the point of impact along with his bent stature he got a clear view of the crack that had formed in the board. No, it was not just a crack. The whole board broken off. Behind the broken pieces of boards that now hung limply on either side of a small black rectangular opening that slid back into the hull. Intrigued Jeremy walked towards it and then thought otherwise.

He went and grabbed the lantern off the metal hook. He walked over to the opening and peered in. Inside the compartment was a small dusty package wrapped in a blood red cloth, tied together with a thin sunlight yellow sting. Jeremy reached in and grabbed it by the strings pulling apart the knot and grabbing the package pulling it close to his body, hoping to obscure it from anyone that may be nearby. His heart was now beating faster than the rain that shrieked against the boat.

He sat against the barrel he was at before and crossed his legs placing the lantern off to the side and the package in the center of the open space. Tentatively he reached forward and unwrapped the package. The cloth was softer than anything Jeremy had felt, but it most resembled the wool that would sometimes come through the market on Sunday mornings, although he felt comparing this to wool would be unjust to the cloth.

Sitting in the center roof the cloth was a small dark green bottle just a little smaller than a flask. The bottle sealed with a cork covered by a red paper foil that extended halfway down the neck of the bottle. Its base was about as wide as the palm of his hand, and rested gently there. Inside the bottle a thivk viscous brown liquid creeped towards the cork. It reminded Jeremy of molasses.

He let out a chuckle, all that care just for a smugglers bottle of rum. Well at least it will help him pass the time on this shift, and he can fetch a little coin for the cloth he thought. Breaking the foil and popping open the cork with his mouth with a pop. He hoisted the bottle to his lips, closed his eyes, and threw his head back. When the liquid reached his lips, it tasted grotesquely of metal and blood it reminded him of rancid meat and rusted metal. It burned deeply as it snaked it's way down his throat. He almost coughed it out of his body, hut through sheer force of will he held it back.

Draining the bottle, he leaned back against the barrel; his work could wait. His body overcome with an intense heaviness making even the roughness of the barrel feel like a soft cloud. He felt weightless, like he was being lifted from his position and was sailing through the air. He dreamed of a vast an endless ocean, one which could be sailed on for all of eternity without ever charting it all. He dreamt of the mercantile ships that he and his crew would come across, plundering, and killing all who blocked his path. Nothing but rum, glory, and the open ocean could be seen for miles.

...

His eyelids shone with a bright yellow light, he groaned he had sadly met with his conscious self yet again. When the sound of a cannon fired off and met his ears with a sharp ringing he jumped forward and opened his eyes. He was somewhere different. It was a cabin not a storeroom. A desk with maps and papers and various candles littered a cross it, with chair with a dark brown jacket hanging off the side, along with a bed that he was in, and a dark brown double door that stood shut off to the right.

Another shot rang out, although this one was much further off. The response to the shot was a splash in the water far off to the left of the ship. A pair of footsteps made themselves apparent outside his door as one of them kicked into the door they sounded so loud making Jeremy's striking headache appear," CAPTAIN, IT'S THEM," a brash voice said, reminding Jeremy of the scraping of a ship as they moved it off land.

"What is it?" his body spoke involuntarily. Jeremy tried to look around, but his head did not move. He tried to close his eyes, but they were off rhythm. It was as if he was an observer to his own body.

"CAPTAIN ITS THEM, THEY'VE COME," the voice exclaimed again, rattling the door along with it.

"AND JUST WHO IS THIS 'THEY'," he exclaimed back, giving his head a fresh spike of pain. Now getting up Jeremy found that it was not so different from actually being in control. Although it was a little jarring not being able to predict where his body would move, or what he would say.

"It's that damnable East India Company Sir," another voice spoke up, this one was far smoother than the other one," They've blockaded the pass and the route around,".

The body stood with a start and walked over to the desk. Bending down under the desk it reached up and grabbed something cold long and wooden. Pulling their arm out Jeremy saw that it was a Flintlock, had he been in control his eyes would have widened. "Numbers," he asked grabbing the coat that was left out on the chair and slinging it around putting it on.

"They have five ships that we can see sir. Two on either side of the pass and one inside the pass," The smoother voice said as another cannonball sailed overhead, creating a whooshing sound as is passed. The body walked over to the door and flung it open.

What met his eyes were two people flanking the door, one standing on the left of the door was short and skinny, with stubble dotting his face. "Reimi why the hell aren't we moving yet," he said, phrasing it more like a statement than a question. The left one shot away from the door and started shouting orders at the various other sailors that dotted across the boat's deck. The other one was tall and quite large, Jeremy assumed that most of that was not muscle, he had a spyglass out and was looking out across the starboard side keenly unaware of the leftover shaving cream resting just below his neck.

The captain walked over to this one and said," Probably Jacobson and his Royal Anne again, he's just showing off for his pals back at Fort Dover, he'll let us pass without problem.".

"I'm afraid not sir," he said passing the spyglass to the captain," This one's the Restoration," his face was whiter than sea-foam.

Looking through the spyglass Jeremy saw exactly the scene that the man had described. Two ships situated either side of the large island with a giant river carving its way through the island they planned to sail through. A much larger ship sat sideways blocking their way forward. "What are we to do Jeremy," the man asked.

"Nothing, John, we do nothing," the captain said handing over the spyglass and brandishing a large toothy smile.

"What do you mean nothing," John said pushing the spyglass aside and started flapping his arms in the air like a bird trying to take flight," We can't just sit here and do nothing they'll kill us," he exclaimed.

The captain wagged the spyglass from side to side, like a mother were to do to a child who had made trouble. "No, you're wrong,".

"I am," John asked lowering his arms, he obviously had not been expecting to hear those words.

"They are going to kill you," the captain said, flashing his smile again and pointing the spyglass at John's chest. John's face turned even whiter and started up again when the captain hushed him and said this," I'm only joking John, loosen up a bit will ya," the captain walked over and leaned in close," Listen, don't you soon forget that you hired pirates to do your dirty work, and we pirates don't very much like being bossed around. Understand?". The man nodded his head," Good," the captain continued," Now why don't you go on down to your room and leave the pirate business to the pirates," he said wiping the shaving cream from John's neck and rubbing it on his clothes, leaving John with a large white stain on his shirt. he quickly scurried under board.

The captain found his way to the steer of the ship and found Reimi on the wheel steering back and forth avoiding the shots when fired. Reimi looked at the captain and said," Little bugger give you any trouble," he said raising an eyebrow and turning the wheel hard left. The boat jolted left allowing a cannonball to sail pass, splashing in the water.

"Nothing I couldn't manage, give him a few minutes to calm down then go down and bring him up here," the captain said crossing his arms inside his coat, grabbing onto the pistol that he had stored there.

"Aye, sir. May I ask why," Reimi said turning the wheel back to center.

"It's about time we cut our losses, don't you think," the captain said giving Reimi a sideways look and a smile.

...

The ship sailed straightforward into the valley, the enemy ship fired shot after shot each missing their mark by meters, sends sprays of water and dirt up onto the deck. "You’re mad," John said, pulling at the ropes that tied his arms, leaving his hands free at the front.

"No John," The captain said smiling forward," You were mad to trust a pirate,". The captain turned away and faced the deck of the ship where all one hundred of his crew stood, swords and pistols drawn.

"Men," he shouted, each of the sailors turned away from the ship ahead and faced the captain," Prepare to board," he shouted and was met with shouts of valor that lifted from the crowd and dozens ran around grasping a rope and planks.

Reimi looked the captain," John has a point captain," the look on his face said a different story.

"Indeed, he does, but what would a pirate be without a little bit of madness, eh?" the captain said chuckling at the end.

"Right, you are sir," Reimi said and stabbed his sword into a gap of the wheel keeping it straight. Reimi ran onto the deck and began to push his way to the front of one of the lines, grabbing hold of one of the ropes he pulled out a pistol and let out a scream.

The captain grabbed onto John and pulled him close, he walked John over to a rope and grabbed onto it with one hand, clenching so hard his knuckles turned white," Hold on tight," He shouted. The ship collided into the enemy's, spraying bits of wood chips into the air. The captain leaped off, dangling from the rope and onto the other ship. John let out a blood curdling scream and dug his' fingers into the captain's sides.

Landing with a thud John fell off and rolled away. "Gentlemen," the captain screamed at the white haired, and red coated men of the ship his men were now on," I've come to make a deal,".

The one with the highest wig stepped forward and said, “Speak then pirate," his voice was posh and high tinged with a British accent.

"We give you this poor old tax broker, and you lend us your ship, simple as that," the captain said sending his arms out wide imitating an embrace.

The one that spoke stood there awestruck and fumbled for his words. eventually finding them he said," Are you bloody mad, why would we give you our ship," nods came from the three other red clad men behind him.

"Because, if you don't," the captain said gesturing down to the deck where all his men faced the red clad men with swords drawn," then we'll just have to take it by force," laughs of bloodlust came from the deck as his men started to inch forward. One of them twirled his blade in his hand.

The tall-wigged captain stopped for a moment and said," Sorry, but we don't do business with pirates," he started to raise his arm.

"Well that’s to bad," the captain said, and pulled the flintlock from his jacket and pulled the trigger. A blast of yellow flames spurted from the end and the tall-wigged captain fell to the floor blood leaking from his chest. Chaos erupted all around the ship as fighting began.

The three remaining men up top each had sword drawn, but they stood stunned and stared at their captain’s lifeless body. Jeremy dashed forward pulling his saber from it’s sheathe and plunged it into the belly of one of the men. Spinning around his deflected a blow from one who had gained his senses and sliced his throat. The third and final one dropped his sword and fell to his knees. The captain kicked it away and hit him with the hilt of his saber, he fell down a nasty purple bruise already apparent on his skull.

The captain pulled a fresh cartridge from his pocket and reloaded his weapon. He jumped over the banister and into the fray on the deck. The fight was mostly over by now, but he ran up to a group and did what he did best, kill.

Jumping into the action he swings his sword wildly and with little abandon, slashing and smashing his sword and fists into the redcoats, he truly feels free and open in the air. Weightlessly he shifts throughout the world as a leaf does. He was caught up in the action he had not the slightest idea that one man stood behind him ready to strike.

Pain flared through his body, looking down at the sword sticking out of his side he sees only red staining his white woolen shirt. Is this how it ends, how could it be so soon and sudden, he is a pirate for Christ’s sake. He investigates the sky, wondering if that same Christ may hold a spot in heaven for the likes of him. His last thoughts as he collapses onto the floorboards of the boat are those of hearth and home, wondering where it all went wrong.

Falling to the ground he sees John sword in hand, its blade bloodied. He sees Reimi punch John to the ground and how Reimi continuously strikes his face, not being able to tell which is tears and which is John's saliva. He passes knowing that he is avenged.

...

Jeremy woke with a start, jumping up a clutching at his chest. The pain still fresh in his mind he stumbled over to a porthole with the first vestiges of light peeking through. Looking down at his chest he is relieved to find that no hole exists, and he feels relieved. A pirate's life is certainly not for him.