A Pirate Adventure - Pt. 1

A Pirate Adventure - Pt. 1

"So, there he was, Kel, your grandpa, standin' alone, last one alive on a ship full of pirates, vilest men you ever did see," Oren told his daughter.

She squirmed beneath her sheets, sitting up with her forehead wrinkled in a most puzzled expression. "Put, Papa, all the men who help you in the orchards are pirates, aren't they? That's what the people in town always say."

"Were pirates, my dear," Oren said. "Just like your grandpa. They're the sort who never wanted to be pirates to begin with. It was that or death for them, though. They needed a second chance, just like he did when he came to this island, Port Acton."

"Oh," Kel said, accepting that. "So, Grand-Papa was on the ship..."

"Well, a'course his sword had broken in the fight, and he was out of shot for his pistol, as you recall," Oren continued. "So do you know what he did?"

Kel giggled. "Didn't he tip his hat and greet them a good day?"

"I've already told you this story, haven't I?" Oren realized. The man chuckled, ruffling his daughter's soft brown hair. "Then perhaps it's time for you to get some sleep, m'gel."

"No, Papa!" Kel objected, her lips instantly turning to a frown. Her eyes went big and watery, a sad expression that could wrench the heart of any loving father, and even some not-so-loving ones. "If you don't tell me my bedtime story, I'll never fall asleep, Papa! And I'll have terrible nightmares and the sea monsters will eat me and then you'll be sorry! Finish the story, please?"

"All right, all right," Oren relented. "He did, indeed, tip his hat and greet them, all smiles and play. An' when the pirate captain approached him, sword in hand, ready to slice him from neck to navel, why, he just tsk-ed and informed that ugly ol' brute that it was just bad form to kill a man who'd just wished him good day.

"This baffled the captain, took him aback, and he lowered his sword out of amusement. The two bantered a bit and the captain soon decided that it would, indeed, be bad form to kill a ship's navigator when his crew was sore in need of one. Navigators are rare among pirates."

"Navigators are special," Kel said. "I don't know how they can know all the stars and the sun and the islands and the coasts and be able to tell where in the world they are just from what's in the sky and on some paper. It's all so confusing!"

"Maybe when you're bigger I'll show you how, just like your Grand Papa showed me," Oren said. He smiled at the thought. There wasn't much of anything like spending a night beneath the stars, watching the constellations and the planets in their eternal dance. That was beauty. "Well, so Grand Papa's good nature spared his life for a day, and he found himself among pirates. Of course, those filthy men were more likely to slit the throat of a good Islinian gentleman as soon as give him the time o' day, but..."

"The story of how he came to be accepted on the crew is a story for another night," Kellsie said along with her father. She pouted. "Please, more?"

"It's late, dear daughter, and we all have work to do tomorrow. The rain fruit is ready to be harvested now, and you now that means a great deal of hard labor under the hot Torekian sun," Oren said. He stood from his daughter's bed and gave her the look that confirmed he was serious, and no amount of crying would change his mind. Well, maybe a certain amount, but he wouldn't stay long enough for his daughter to get there that night. She sighed and laid down, and he pulled her sheets up close around her.

"Good night, Papa," Kellsie said. "Do I get to help in the orchards tomorrow?"

"You're one of the best climbers I've got, Kel," Oren said. "You could race through the rigging of a brig with the best of them. Of course you can help, if your mother will allow it."

Kellsie pouted. "Mama will make me do dishes. Please, Papa, just tell her you need me?"

"I'll see what I can do, Kellsie," Oren said with a sigh. "Good night."

"Good dreams, and fair winds," Kellsie replied. She wriggled beneath the covers to get more comfortable and then closed her eyes tight.

Oren moved to the door and watched his daughter for a long moment, as her breathing slowed and steadied to an even rate. She was surely asleep, and judging from that small smile upon her lips, she was far from any nightmare.

"You shouldn't tell her such stories, Oren," Rowanne Orchard, Oren's wife, scolded. He turned to see her standing in the hall beside him.

"I take it you were listening," Oren assumed. He sighed. "But she loves them, Rowanne, and they won't do her any harm. Come, my flaxen-haired love, quit that scowling. It will ruin your soft skin."

"I don't want my daughter running off and sailing on the high seas," Rowanne stated. "It's not a proper place for a girl. And she's nearly twelve, Oren. She should be learning to cook and clean like a proper girl, not playing with pirates."

"You trust my judgement when I save them from the hangman's noose, don't you?" Oren asked Rowanne. Together they started down the hall, away from their dozing daughter. If their argument got any louder, it would surely wake her, and that would do no one any good whatsoever.

"I do, Mister Orchard, I do," Rowanne said. "But that doesn't mean I want my daughter falling in love with one of the handsome rogues."

"They don't look at my daughter that way, and she hasn't yet taken interest in boys," Oren said. "Don't you fret. She'll marry a good man if I have any say in it, which I do, being her father."

"All your stories, letting her play with those pirates, it's giving her a wild streak a furlong wide," Rowanne said. "She stays inside and works with me, tending for this house and running errands from now on. That's final, Mister Orchard."

Oren shook his head. "She won't like it."

"No, she won't, but that's how it is going to be," Rowanne stated. "Now, to sleep with us. It will be a long, hard day tomorrow."



That night, Kellsie dreamed she was beside her Grand Papa Oren among all those pirates. She sailed on the oceans of dreams, propelled by the winds of wishes and hopes. She knew what the stars in the sky meant, and how the roll of the sea and the deck meant fair weather or storms.

And while she was sailing in her dreams, a true pirate crew was standing on a sandy shore.

A mere lad stood facing the captain, sword in hand. He was hardly more than fifteen, but he had death in his eyes.

"Vincent, you've been on this crew for, what, three years now?" the captain asked. "You know my skill, and you know I could kill you with ease."

"I won't make it easy, sir," Vincent Hart stated. "When your crew gave you the warning signs of mutiny and you challenged anyone to rise and take your place if they could win in a fair sword fight, I took your challenge. Here we are, on solid land. You've treated these men like dogs when they've served you well. If it takes the foolishness of a boy to stand up to you, well, so be it. I'll die on this shore before I get back on your ship, though."

The twenty man crew standing on the shore around the lad and the fierce bearded captain was grim, saying no word. True, they did not like how the captain had been running the ship of late, and, true, Little Vin had proven himself in his years on board the ship, a boy wise beyond his years, skilled, swift, and lean, a quick learner to be sure, and bold as his flame red hair. Not a one of them wanted to see this boy dead, but they wouldn't interrupt a fair duel. It was against their code.

Vincent tested his blade quickly, twitch of the wrist. He knew its balance fairly well, but his heart was pounding in his ears. The captain had been fighting and slaughtering men when Vin's dear mother had been a mere lass. He wasn't sure he could really do this, but he knew he had to try.

The captain, filthy grey hair loose around his face, opened his mouth in a terrible snarl, lifted his blade, and charged at the tall lad. Vincent judged the angle of the captain's sword and parried with his best skill, trying to hold strong in defense against all the captain's weight. He managed to spin to the side and pull his blade back without getting a cut, but the captain didn't lose his balance. He brought his blade up in a flick and caught Vincent's arm. First blood.

No one cheered, and no one booed. They just continued to watch in their silence as Vincent and the captain went at it, swords clashing, feet shifting. The captain dropped and flung a fistful of sand at Vincent's face, but the boy managed to shield his eyes with his empty hand. In that moment, the captain struck another blow, slicing at Vincent's side. Vincent howled at the pain of it, but stayed on his feet.

"Come on, lad, you're a good hand," the captain said. "I'll call this off, let the ships surgeon patch you up, if you'll agree to it."

"No!" Vincent shouted. He brought his sword up in ready position gain, and they went at it once more.

The world seemed to slow for Vincent, and everything fell silent except for the crashing of the waves. He had to do this. He had to. When the captain next raised his sword, Vincent saw his opening. He knew he could get hurt in the process, but wasn't he already hurt? He lunged forward, stabbed his blade with all his might straight through the captain's middle. The captain's sword caught him in the shoulder, then clattered to the sands as the captain's grip failed.

"You did it, lad," he murmured as he sank to his knees. "You've killed me..."

Vincent stumbled back, pulling the blade dripping with blood from the captain's body. He could hardly believe it. He'd done it, and he was alive to tell that he had, too. He collapsed to the sand, too, eyes flickering open and shut.

The ship's quartermaster, Kendrick Shore, walked forward. "Vincent Hart has slain the captain. Do we accept him as our new captain?"

"Aye," the crew said in unison.

"Then let's get Captain Hart on the ship. He's wounded, mates," Kendrick shouted. "Cook, an extra cup of rum for each crew member. Tonight we toast to our captain."

The crew gave a hearty cheer. "Vincent Hart!"

Kendrick hauled the lad up to his feet. "Most of these men have been sailing since you've been in diapers, or longer, lad. You defeated that tyrant captain and that makes you our captain now, but some of them will try to take advantage of you."

"I know," Vincent said. "We chose you as our quartermaster. I'll listen to your advice above any of theirs."

"You're a wise boy," Kendrick said. "I'll do what I can to help you, Vincent Hart. Something tells me you're destined for greatness."

"Only if I live through the night," Vincent joked. He gave a bit of a weak chuckle.

"Ah, that's the truth," Kendrick agreed. "I'll teach you all I know, Captain. We'll make you pistol proof yet."

Aided by three mates, Kendrick carried the new captain aboard the pirate ship Sentinel's Revenge. Already the ship's surgeon had his supplies out to tend to the lad's wounds. He shook his head a bit at this, though. A fifteen-year-old pirate captain. Who had ever heard of such a thing?



Well, the crew of the Deathshard certainly had. Though some men swore their captain had to be a demonic beast in disguise as a young lad, Cullen Scarlett looked to be hardly more than seventeen, and he had been captain since age ten. That night in the Torekian Islands found the young captain up in the crow's nest with his most trusted confidant, the ship's navigator, Colfre. Young Captain Culley, as his crew called him, bore scars from a recent fight, face long and weary.

"My own first mate, Colfre," he said, shaking his head as he turned his face to the stars.

"Aye, Scar, but Cutter never was a smart man," Colfre said. "That Aaron will serve you well."

"I wouldn't be alive if he hadn't stepped in and taken that blow," Cullen said. He turned to look down to the deck, littered with a few sleeping men and those wide-awake on watch. He could see Aaron standing faithful and true at the helm, keeping the ship on course. "By all counts he should be dead, and he's there working hard as always."

"He has total faith in you, Scar," Colfre said. "Are we almost to port? We'll need to restock soon, I should think."

"And get rid of some of our priceless loot for a good cut of coin," Cullen said, giving a bit of a nod. He tried to run a hand through his snagged blond hair, but could barely succeed, it was so tangled. He gave a sigh. "And I suppose it is about time for me to take another bath."

"You say that like you'll be bathing in the River Styx," Colfre said, giving a hearty laugh. "Come on, Scar, mate, you're the captain. You deserve to look a bit more pampered than the sailors."

"Those sailors are twice as old as me, most of them," Scar said. "If I were clean, that'd be one more thing we don't have in common. I work with them, Colfre, and I'll keep workin' with them an' sweatin' with them 'til Judgement Day if I have a say in it. If that means being filthy as the filthiest dog among them, then so be it."

"You aren't expecting this to become a cursed pirate ship now, are you, you little demon boy?" Colfre joked.

Cullen gave a feigned maniacal laugh in answer. The men below could hear that diabolical chuckle and it filled some of them with fear. Their captain only looked to be an innocent lad. They didn't trust his innocent face. They knew better. That boy could sneak into any dark space and kill a man in his sleep, stealthy as stealthy could be. He'd stopped many a mutiny by finding and killing the ringleaders, and no one knew just how he did it. If Cullen Scarlett had a say in it, they'd keep thinking it was pure magic. He loved the stories.

"You'd best get some sleep while you can, Scar," Colfre said. "Especially if we'll be coming into port soon."

"Aye," Cullen relented. He rolled from the flat platform that made up Colfre's crow's nest and caught the rigging with such practiced skill.

He could just remember his first day on a ship, barely six years old, a bumbling boy for all counts. Couldn't even take to the rigging with any skill, but he'd caught on quick, so quick, and kept from getting killed for every year since then. By the time he was eight, he'd started dreaming of becoming captain. He knew his captain was a good one, true, but not nearly so good as he could be. There were better ways to sail the seas and get treasure, Cullen had been sure of it. He practiced for the next two whole years with all his heart, learning every skill he could from every crew mate who would teach him. By age nine, they were already saying he was such a quick learner it was almost inhuman. By age ten, he'd killed the captain in his sleep and taken over the ship in one night. The men who tried to fight him awoke dead just like the cap had.

Cullen chuckled as his feet touched the deck of his ship again, his Deathshard. It was too dark to see the Jolly Roger waving up above, but Cullen knew what it looked like without a thought. The shattered skull above a broken ship was a warning to all who dare cross the demon boy Cullen and his pirate crew.

Surrender or die!