The Plank

The sun cast a golden hue over the Siren's Fury. Jake stood at her helm and you could tell he was a Captain, even without his hat. His stance was starched by salt and pride, yet fluid to match the sway of the deck.

His feet were firmer out here, at sea, than they were on land. He walked with an arrogant swagger punctuated by a slight limp. It was fitting, for a pirate, to have a gimpy leg.

He shifted with the rolling deck as if dancing with some unseen partner, in perfect rhythm. The constant shushing of the waves and the creaking of boards were a perfect accompaniment to the eternal sway and pull. Salty breeze lifted his hair, and he lifted his face to meet it.

This was the life. Freedom! Adventure!

For a moment, Captain Jake was no seasoned sailor, battle-scarred and wily, with a fast ship under him, a good crew around him, and a hold full of loot. There was no reward on his head, no scar down his face, no ancient injury to his leg that made his gait a mongrel of limp and swagger. No agents of the crown threatening to one day, maybe, catch up with him. He was a boy again. Cheeks smooth, ears wet. Content with the diamond-tips the waves gave him, with no debts, no worries, no need for real jewels. Eyes drawn to the horizon and the adventure that waited there, if only a lad was brave enough to go after it. It was so real that he cocked his head, for all the world as if he'd hear his mother's voice across the waves, across the miles, Jaaaaaacoooob! Tea's ready!

He brought himself back to the moment, shaking his head and scowling. He set his jaw. A grown man doesn't waste time on such things.

The sea lay dormant. Everything seemed like business as usual, except.... There was something. Something amiss. Something coming. Something changing. The Captain had sensed it, like a shifting tide.

"Captain!" A rumbling voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to greet Calder, a wiry man with a mean temper. New to the crew, the Captain hadn't quite figured him out yet.

“Yes, Calder?” Jake tried to squash the growing unease in his gut.

“Gotta tell you," Calder glanced over his shoulder at the others, and then leaned in close and and dropped his voice," "The crew are talking, Cap'n."

Jake stiffened. This is it. "What about?"

"About you, sir, actually. Your decisions. W- ummm, they think it’s time for a change in leadership."

Jake nodded, accepting the news as if it was no surprise. In a way, it wasn't. "Gather the crew. I'll speak to them," he said. Calder nodded and moved away.

Jake stepped to the railing, staring into the faces he knew so well. Grayson, the cocky one, quick to draw his cutlass. Harry, the perpetual fat kid who'd learned to leverage his size. Will; a weasel who'd lean whichever way social winds buffeted him. Finn; a quiet one, the type you’d forget until you felt steel pricking your kidneys.

“What’s this I hear about you lot plotting behind my back?” Jake tried to make his voice boom like the fearless pirate he was, with no hint of quaking uncertainty.

Jake's glance flicked over them all, pausing on Finn. He shifted, his expression unreadable, glancing aside at Calder and giving him the smallest of nudges.

Murmurs rippled, swelled, like waves taunted by a storm. It was Calder who spoke up at last, confident and smooth. Or oily.

“We’re tired, Captain. Tired of scrounging for scraps. There's loot out there, and we want a Captain who will lead us to it. Don't we boys?”

“Is that how you all feel?” Jake's frustration bubbled beneath his calm facade. Not fear, though. Never fear. They can smell that.

“Aye, but we’d do better with a new leader!” Calder shot back. Mutinous agreement congealed in the air. Like the smell of rain, if it smelled like betrayal.

Jake's nostrils flared. He breathed deep and steady to slow his heart. Breathing through the pain, like when he injured his leg. You breathe, and you keep going. Mutiny was like a physical pain to a captain.

Finn leaned close to Calder, who nodded, and levelled his blade at the Captain.

"Seize him!"

Chaos followed. Jake lifted his own blade, but it was useless against so many. His hand faltered. Perhaps he hadn't the ruthless heart of a pirate after all. Not against his brothers.

"I'm your Captain!" he yelled, writhing on his stomach with Fat Henry's bulk weighing on his back.

Hold his arms! someone said. Tie his wrists! yelled someone else.

Their clamour was humiliating. It was as if the grizzled exterior dissolved, yet again. This time, instead of the feeling of hope and innocence, potential yawning out endlessly in front of him... he was left feeling small and weak.

The bonds dug into his skin, and he squirmed, muttering, "You tied it too tight!"

The Plank had been set up. He thought of the times he'd sent someone along it. The way they snivelled and scraped, and his own disdain at their cowardice. The cheers from the crew when they went over, and the smile stretching his own mouth.

Now, his gaze narrowed until all he could see was the far end of the plank, wavering in mid-air. It looked different from here. Higher for one thing. Scarier. Meaner. He'd have lifted a hand to scrub at his eyes and cheeks, except they were tied behind his back.

The board felt wobbly and rough under his feet.

"You- you'll pay for this!" he said, trying to retrieve the strength from earlier and inject it into his voice.

"Shut up and walk it, Jacob," Calder sounded bored.

"Yeah, shut up, Captain." Will jeered.

Calder jumped on the ship end of the Plank, which made it wobble worse than ever. Jacob's feet almost slipped.

"Come on, man. We're hungry. Get on with it."

But I'm Captain! A Captain doesn't walk his own plank!

Max Calder jumped again, and this time Jacob was sent sprawling into the dirt. With his hands tied, he couldn't reach out to save himself or break his own fall. He landed hard, almost face first. Tears sprang to his eyes. He hid his face against the ground for a moment, trying to still the racking sobs that threatened to escape.

"Oh my god, he's crying," Calder squawked. "Are you crying, Jakey?"

"No," Jacob tried for defiance, staggering to his feet with dirt and blood down his face and torn t-shirt. "But I dink Ibe broke my doze."

The boys laughed.

Then, in the distance, the sound he'd been expecting. "Jaaaaaaacob..."

He tried to straighten up. How do you make your eyes flash?

"Ab I walking hobe like this?" Bloody, covered in dirt, hands tied. His mum would have a fit, especially after Max pushed him off his bike last week and he twisted his ankle. That was easy enough to lie about. But this...

Max Calder looked at him, weighing up how much trouble they'd get into. He jerked his chin. "Alright, Jakey," he said, and nodded at Paul Grayson.

Grayson stepped forward, a knife ghosting out of his pocket into his hand. The blade flicked out. There was a sense of every eye settling on it, a palpable intake of breath. Grayson cut the cable tie, nicking Jacob's skin.

"Run on home to mummy," Max hissed. "Just remember, I'm Captain, now. Alright?"