User:Nextoy/Pirate Thing/Chapter 1

It was a usual night, and I was in my usual seat. The tavern by the bay was my home away from home. Made just enough to keep a bed, plate, and tankard for myself each night but no more. Some days were harder than others, especially when I’m around those holy men. But the day that American walked up to me while I was drinking away my sorrows was a strange one.

“What’s your sin, kid?” He asked, looking over to me. He met a glare in response. I was eighteen already, so ‘kid’ wasn’t my favorite pet name.

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, most kids your age wouldn’t be hitting the bottle that hard. Tells me that something’s fucked you up, at the very least.” At the time I interpreted his words as being arrogant, but looking back I believe he was being genuine.

“You’re the one that’ll fucked up if you don’t go away.” I growled back, slumping over the bar counter. However, instead of backing down he came in closer. Leaned up close with one hand on the counter.

“If you wanna throw your life away, kid. How about I give you something to die for?” This brought my attention forward, raising my head to meet his eye level.

“What’s that?” I didn’t really have a comeback.

“There’s a lotta nasty folk swimming around the ocean, kid. How’d you like a chance to make the world a better place, or die trying? Get some of the waste off of these beautiful, blue seas?”

It was then I realize what kind of man this American was. His rough, but gentle voice. That deep, but clear accent. The eager smile on his face. This man was either my guardian angel, or a demon come to claim my soul. And I was willing to take the risk.

“Name’s Marco. What’s yours?” I asked, holding a hand up to shake his.

“You can call me Creedence.” His grip was familiar to me. Worker’s hands, forged by countless days in the sun. If this guy was the captain, and not just some recruiter for the ship, then I would expect to see him among his crew.

“Alright, Creedence. We gonna do this now, or in the morning?” I asked, grabbing onto the handle of the tankard.

“Sober up, then I’ll bring ya aboard.” He patted my back a couple times as I tried to drink down the last of my rum. Nearly coughed some of it out in reply as that crazy American left. I looked back before paying the barman for the food and drink. Even then, I knew that I was on the onset of a journey.

That morning I got up and head towards the docks. It’s been a while since I saw the people working there. Admittedly, this was partially due to my hatred for my father. The drunken fool spent more time here and than home if he wasn’t out at sea. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I was becoming a sailor.

Maybe this man could offer my life meaning.

“What’s the matter, kid?” Despite only having known him for a drunken haze of a night, somehow I recognized his voice clearly from the din. I looked over my shoulder to see the crazy American walking up to me. Now that he was standing, it was like he had a good foot over me. Sure, I was slouching, but it didn’t change how intimidating the man’s stature was.

“Stop calling me that. It's not like I’ve fully decided to join you anyways.” He walked past and motioned for me to follow. I did so, not sure exactly why at the time.

“What’s stopping you?” He didn’t even look back to ask, just turning his head slightly and continued walking. The way Americans walked was… strange. They had a unique stiffness in how they moved around. It emanated this level of sophisticated power that only someone like the former colonists could. Like the very land he walked upon was simply another destiny to manifest.

“The sea turns people into monsters.” While I had no intentions of telling this man about my history with sailors, I also wasn’t going to hide it.

“And yet I found you emptying a tankard into your belly.”

I scoffed at his retort. “I’d rather a hangover to cabin fever and scurvy.”

“I have yet to see someone drink for a living and still be surrounded by friends.”

All I could do was scoff again, not knowing how to respond. That’s when I saw his ship. The USS Fortunate Son. It looked… admittedly, pretty opposing. Granted, at the time I knew nothing about ships. Looking back, I imagine it was probably the most goddamn terrifying looking merchant ship on the water.

“What, we’re changing the world in this?” I asked, looking over to him.

“Don’t overlook it, kid. Otherwise you’ll fall for the trap. The Fortunate Son is supposed to be like this. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be good pirate hunters.”

A stillness came over the area we were. American pirate hunters. Even I had heard the stories. They were a crazy bunch, willing to drive enemy ships into the depths of the sea with a flurry of cannons and keep that American flag raised the entire time.

“Okay, but why the name?” It… really bugged me. American ships always had the strangest names.

“It’s a reminder of what we aren’t, and what we strive to be. We aren’t the sons of governors, generals, or land owners. No, we’re the bottom of the barrel just trying to make a name for ourselves in a world that’d just as quickly beat us back down. But we aren’t gonna be crabs, and use ourselves to grow into an unstoppable force. Even if not all of us are American, we follow the American spirit. Picking ourselves up by our bootstraps and sailing into the sunset, tearing down every obstacle that gets in our way. We ain't no fortunate sons, but we’re the ones who are willing and capable of doing what needs to be done for the sake of the world and all her people.”

“Uh…” All I could do was stare in awe at this man. Part of me was appalled by the raw arrogance of his position, but the rest was simply stunned that someone could claim to be at rock bottom and find the strength to rise to the top. If people like that really existed, I certainly wasn’t one of them. Not back then, at least.

“Plus, it’s a pretty badass name. Especially for a merchant ship.” He started laughing, and I found myself letting out a chuckle. That big, patriotic, and frankly insane speech followed up by such a stupid comment was something I’d only expect out of an American. It’s like they don’t take anything seriously.

“So what, you give a cool speech and then assume I’ll just hop along?” Honestly, I was pretty well annoyed with him at this point. I had no reason to believe he was nearly as bad off as he claimed. Especially not as a ship’s captain, since that’s how he acted.

“Well, what have you got to lose?”

That question cut through me like a hot knife through butter. I have had many nights where I thought I had nothing left leading up to this, but during not a single one did I ever stop to ask myself that. To ask myself ‘what have I got to lose?’

“The world is your oyster, kid. Either you can spend it in this port city drinking your nights away and working the docks, or you can come with me and have a goddamn adventure.” The American walked up the ramp as he spoke, stopping with one leg raised and turning back towards me with arm outstretched. His hand reached out to mine and I could see that eager smile from the night before come back. This time, with the gentle sea breeze blowing his short brown hair to the side, his eyes sparkled with an excitement that felt like it was mirroring my own.

“You ain't no fortunate son either, kid. So come on, it’s now or never!” His shouting was from excitement, not anger. For the first time since my poor mother had died, I truly felt like someone wanted me around. That someone had their eyes all on me. Before I knew it, my hand was in his as he lead me onto his boat.

And so I became a crewman for the USS Fortunate Son.

*****  “Alright men, we all ready to set off?” Creedence called out, looking along the crew at the deck of the ship while he stood up at the helm. They cheered and started the process of getting the ship out of port. It was very slow, admittedly. Far slower and more meticulous than I had ever imagined. Yet, everyone seemed eager to get out of port.

Once the ship had been turned around and was heading out to sea, he whistled and everyone listened up.

“Now, we got ourselves a new crewman back on that island.” He motioned for me to come up next to him. I’d never been a shy person before, but very few times in my life had I been more nervous than while walking up those steps.

“Marco will be one of us, now. Everyone play nice, alright? He’ll help out with general cleaning and maintenance until we find out what this kid’s talent is.” The captain held me close with one arm, my shoulder resting at his side, as everyone called up to me. The looks between them were intimidating, with some being happy to have my on and others looking annoyed. Although for an American ship I noticed that a surprising number of them were pale skinned. In fact, were it not for the giant “USS” on the hull I’d think this was a Spanish vessel or from some island here in the Caribbean.

“Now, find some stuff to do while I check on my crew, alright?” He told me, walking down the steps. I ended up following him since I knew nothing about how to take care of a ship. Where to go, who I want to help, all unknown to me. While lost in thought, I almost bumped into Creedence.

“Nigger, come here.” He called out, pointing to a dark skinned man. An anger boiled inside me that I didn’t think I could have for this man. Being from Cuba, I knew the arrogance of the Europeans first hand. I still believe some of them seem to think having lighter skin makes you more human.

“How’d you hurt your leg?” When he asked the question, I snapped out of my silent fury. In all of my rage I hadn’t noticed the man was limping. Pretty badly, even.

“Twisted it working on the ropes, sir. Ankle got caught in something on the way up, and nearly found myself taking a dunk in the sea.” He answered. I had heard that Jamaicans were laid back people, but to think he would just be called that and answer so casually confused me.

“Teach the kid how to not get himself hurt, then take a break.” Though Creedence was clearly teasing the man, it was still an order. The Jamaican laughed it off and turned to me as our captain left us to check on more of the crew.

“So you’re the new kid, huh?” This man asked. “You can call me Marley. Take it you’d never been on a boat before?”

“Not in the slightest.” I told him.

“Alright, well, got any questions before we get started then?” He leaned up against the railing of the ship to get weight off that leg.

“Yeah. Why’d you let him talk to you like that?” I looked back at the captain, confused by my anger with him. Nobody said anything, but I’ve heard the stories of how Americans would call people that if they were being treated as slaves.

“Well, for two reasons. First off, he’s the captain. You don’t want him doing that, you find a way to become captain. However, I also know that he doesn’t mean much by it.” Marley explained, giving me pause. “When most white men say it, they see us as lesser. But when he says it, it feels different. Like he’s addressing me as a person.”

“Here I thought maybe both of us were tricked by a silver tongue.” I idly commented, continuing to watch Creedence’s nonchalant conversation with his men. I don’t remember what they were discussing, however.

“Perhaps, but I’m no slave. If you hate him so much for being an ignorant American, you can get off at the next island.” What shocked me the most is how openly annoyed this man was with me. I pointed out something that was bad, and I was the villain for it. Either something was very wrong with these people, or perhaps they just overlooked such remarks believing he’s a good man.

I wanted to believe he was a good man, anyways.

“Now, let's get started, alright?” He spent a good deal of the day just showing me the ropes and how everything worked, all the while having to deal with that busted up ankle of his. Admittedly, it was all pretty complicated at first, but knowing that I’d have multiple people working on different things was a nice feeling. Plus since I was still young at the time, I could catch on quick.

Those first few days on the ship were a strange experience to get used to. Everyone sleeping so close to each other, the blinding light difference between the cabin and deck, and seeing everyone around me getting along. That last one especially took me off guard, for before meeting Creedence only the holy men and my mother had been kind to me. Yet everyone here helps each other out.

There was always this stale air about it though. Everyone here felt… broken. Like their obedience to Creedence was more out of this grateful desperation. These were men who didn’t have much else than the ship as far as I could tell. But Creedence won them over with charisma, not money or duty. Once I realized this, I remember what I captain told me when I joined.

“You ain't no fortunate son either, kid.” And really, neither were any of us here. I dunno about Creedence, but it seems like ours was a crew made up of people with no other prospects. And I became instantly glad that I joined aboard. Maybe Sailors aren’t as bad as I thought. Not these ones, anyways.

Hell, before the end of the month I found myself singing shanties with them. My singing voice sucks and I didn’t know any of the songs, but we were all having fun nonetheless. I finally felt like I belonged somewhere.

One day, however, a dreadful thought crossed my mind. What if sailing was in my blood? If it was, what else could I have inherited from my father? Was the alcoholism also inherited from him? And if so, would I grow to be abusive and neglectful? All thoughts I hadn’t considered until now, but I wasn’t given time to explore with Creedence keeping us busy.

Marley as well was quite kind. He seemed to be one of the more lax people there, often just looking out at the sea while his ankle was healing. I don’t know how it was anyone could be so calm all the time. Even during a storm Marley and Creedence both seemed hard to rattle. The one time I did see them rattled, it was during combat.

And the first we encountered an enemy ship was quite the spectacle.

It was a dark night when it happened. I was out keeping watch as some pirate ship who’s name I don’t remember appeared within sight. Granted I needed my spyglass to make sure I knew what it was, but sure enough their flag had already begun raising up where another had once been.

“Captain!” I called out, with some of the crew down below hearing me. “We got company!”

It was a matter of minutes before Creedence was out of the captain’s quarters with a rifle tucked under his arm and looking over at the other ship with a spyglass of his own. Through mine I could see a grimace on his face. No doubt waking up to an impending raid wasn’t his idea of a good morning. I saw him talking to some of the other crew men before waving me down. I begun to climb down the riggings of the ship, wondering what he could have in mind.

Once I reached the deck I rushed to the Captain’s side.

“Now kid, this is your first fight right?”

“Well, yeah.” First naval battle anyways. I had gotten into street fights before, but I think it’d be clear to anyone that there’s a large difference between throwing a punch and firing cannons at a ship yards away.

“In that case, stay next to me. I’ll keep you safe, so don’t worry.” He smiled to me before bracing himself at the front of the helm. Though he wasn’t the helmsman, he still stood beside the ship’s wheel. Although I was panicking at the thought of pirates raiding us, I remembered that this was a pirate hunting ship.

“Man the cannons and raise the sails!” He called out. I didn’t think he’d want us to slow down, as these pirates were already gaining on us. “Make sure that they can pass straight on by and catch a hull full of cannon fire for it!”

He seemed completely confident in this plan, even though it was crazy. Wouldn’t it be better to turn the ship to face them? Instead, he wanted them as close as possible.

“Men, to arms!” After a few minutes, two sailors came up to him. Each one had a rifle in hand and a pouch in the other. The captain and the two men got up to the highest point they could without climbing up any of the ropes. I followed along, curious as to what they were doing. I was told to stay next to him, anyways.

“Cover your ears, kid.” He told me, setting down the spyglass. All three men pushed something into the backs of their rifles and brought their eyes up to a secondary tube on top of the gun. I hadn’t been around guns much until now, so the whole ordeal was strange to me. At the time, I wished I had listened to his warning.

Guns, as I’m sure you know, are very, very loud.

My ears started ringing from the sounds of these three men firing off their rifles. Each one delayed so that it was a constant stream of bullets headed towards the pirate ship. I’d thought this would deter the pirates, but they wouldn’t change course. To my surprise, they kept charging.

The men kept firing as the ship slowed down to nearly a halt, the pirates closing in. The rest of the crew was mostly down below, but others were on the deck with guns in hand and swords at their waist. The bravery, or perhaps suicidal carelessness, of these people were astounding to me.

As the ship came up on our rear end, the captain shouted something I could barely hear and all men on deck got to work with the ropings again. The pirate ship came up to our side, with only cannon fire being able to pierce my hearing. Each cannon below deck punctured through the hull of the enemy ship while it sailed past. Shots began from behind, firing in succession so that it may slowly rend through while the ship moved forward.

The ship slowed down as it began to sink, the water dragging it to the side so it’s ruined flank was exposed to us. It was at this point my hearing returned and my captain shouting an order I had never even considered anyone would.

“Ram them through!” I stared back at him in horror, only to see this giant smile from my captain. A smile that embodied that American ignorance I grew up hearing of. I turned back to see the crew working on getting the ship to top speed as if this was a perfectly normal venture. I had only one thought crossing through my mind at the time.

I’m going to die.

Yet nearly a half hour later, there I was perfectly fine. Marley was standing over me as I came to. It took him a moment to notice me, but a groggy groan was all it took to catch his attention.

“Hey, man, you alright? You passed out there.” Not like I wasn’t aware of that, of course, but I was grateful for his concern.

“Yeah… what, happened?” I looked up to him while sitting up, rubbing a sore spot on my head. No doubt where I hit the deck.

“Well we rammed the ship, boarded, and took a couple hostage. Got their treasure too!” He ended the explanation with a laugh. Even though I heard the seriousness in his tone before, now this man was acting as if he’d been playing some kind of game.

“I… I thought I was going to die…”

“You should put a little more faith in your captain, boy.” He told me, the serious tone returning. He was right. Creedence said he would protect me, and he did just that. What scared me most was how casual everyone was about it. I knew that people understood the danger, but nothing stopped them. They just put complete faith in Creedence.

Like I should have.

“You sure you’re alright?” Marley asked, rousing my attention.

“Yeah, just… how was it that everyone there wasn’t afraid?” I trusted Marley to be more straight with me than Creedence with this question. He’s simply one of the men.

“I bet he gave you the speech, right? About why we call the ship the Fortunate Son?” I nodded. “Well, that’s exactly why. None of us are fortunate sons, ourselves. Hell, I was a slave who he bought and gave freedom among the crew. We don’t got a damn thing to lose, so what’s to stop us?”

My mind raced where it shouldn’t, admittedly. The slur Creedence used was purposeful after all, with Marley being a slave. The captain showed care, but… could I really trust a man that was so casual about everything?

“Slave, huh?” I asked, looking to him as I finally stood up.

“I know what you’re thinking, kid. Everyone asks and says the same thing when they first joined. At any point in time I could leave the ship and nobody would stop me. Hell, I almost got stranded in port once cause a girl I had slept with was nice to me. Had to jump back onto the ship, since the boarding plank was already removed.” Marley explained, having grown visibly annoyed. I looked down while thinking of whether or not I had been the bad guy to jump to these conclusions over a single word.

“Chin up, kid. Everyone thinks it. Just be glad you were able to listen.” Marley’s tone and expression both softened when I looked up. “Some people here still think I’m a slave. They’re wrong, but that’s what they think.”

“I believe you, but I’m going to bring it up with the captain anyways.” I insisted, walking up the stairs and onto the deck.

“He’s waiting for you in his personal quarters. Hop to it!” He shouted back in glee, laughing as he got up to do chores below deck.

And I did just that. Went straight to the door of his cabin, knocked, and heard my invitation in.

“Bout time. I was starting to think you were out for the day.” Creedence took his legs off of his desk and leaned forward. “Hit your head pretty good when you fainted. Good thing it was right next to me, though. Much as I would have liked to join the boarding party, you’re my charge.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. It was… a lot more than they make it up to be in the stories.” I admitted. It was true. Ship battles with pirates are often romanticized regardless of which side the story is being told from. But that was a nightmare.

“And you wonder why I said to cover your damn ears.” His cross tone was betrayed by a concerned expression. He wanted to sound angry, but in that moment I knew for sure that he actually cared about me. “We’re a small enough crew already, barely enough guys to keep this thing afloat, so when I say you need to keep yourself safe I mean it.”

“Sorry, sir.” I looked down again, my eyes drifting off to the side.

“Don’t apologize. It shows weakness.” My eyes gazed back up at him in surprise. “We already got damn near nothing, so there isn’t any room for weakness in us.” His expression was more stern than I’d ever seen it before. His seriousness on the subject was foreign to me, especially since he wasn’t even this serious when getting attacked by those pirates.

“Speaking of, Sir, why was it that you decided to do things that way?” My surprised turned into simple curiosity as I saw that arrogant smile of his come back.

“Well,” He let out a pleased sigh as his feet returned to the desk. “See, most of the Americans here were marines back in the day. Each of us have our own reasons for not being military men anymore, but that’s a story for another day. So we kept our rifles and always keep ammo on hand, buying more whenever a port’s willing to sell them.”

“Which explains the guns, but-”

“Yeah, so we make them think that some untrained or arrogant marines are the only line of defense for the ship. They think us raising the sails is to board them for a foolish counter attack. That’s why we keep the cannons below deck. Can’t be seen up top, so pirates don’t know to expect them.”

“Hence so few people being on deck at first.” I felt shock that this man’s logic was so simple and straightforward, while being clearly quite devious.

“Right. So they think we’re easy pickings, accept the invitation to board, and catch a broadside of cannonfire. Now they’ve realized they’ve been tricked, and are trying to skedaddle on out of there. Well jokes on them, we’ve already lowered the sails.

“Now the ships got some holes in it, and is filling up with water. This means they’re slowed down by the ocean and are starting to tip. Now this ship’s not even reinforced up to military standard, we don’t got the cash for that, so when we ram them we have to aim precisely for the areas we shot the ever living shit out of.”

“And then you board them?”

“And then we board them.” He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands behind his head with a smug look on his face, a small chuckle turning into triumphant laughter. The insanity of Americans seemed to be laced with this simple pragmatism that turned what would normally be a crippling weakness into their most powerful talent.

For just that moment I, too, wanted to be American. If Creedence was a good representative of what they were like, then perhaps these were the kinds of people that had the potential to turn into some global power like Britain or Spain. If they don’t wipe themselves off the map first by getting into needless wars, anyways. Either way, it seemed as though the American Spirit was contagious.

“Anything else on your mind, kid?”

“Well yeah, I heard you nearly left Marley behind at port a while back.” I forced my voice to be playful, but I felt a need to know what happened there. Creedence at first delayed his response with a look of confusion. It soon broke away into laughter, however, as he nearly fell out of his chair.

“Oh god,” being the first thing he could force out of his laughter. “Oh, let me tell you. That stupid nigger nearly got himself left out at port. I’d heard he’d spent the night with some girl damn near every night we were there, and I figured he was ready to leave the crew.”

Again his use of language infuriated me, but this time confusion was overpowering it.

“See, I told him when I bought the guy from some dickless slave traders that the moment he wanted to leave the crew, I wouldn’t stop him. Said that to the whole lot I bought. Now I may be from West Virginia, but I don’t think that any man has the right to keep other men as slaves. Love your neighbor and all that.” He explained, resting his feet down on the ground. I suspect that he started to notice my frustration but wasn’t showing it.

“Course I got my money back real quick. Followed them out of port and blew their ship sky high, then took the rest of the slaves and their belongings. Some of the slaves have left, but many of them still work on my ship to this day. That’s why there’s so few Americans on a US vessel.”

I could only find myself nodding in reply, not entirely sure how to process this information. My mind was swimming in thoughts regarding all of this. Creedences words was the only thing to snap me out of it.

“Now go help the chef, alright?” Although it was phrased as a question, I took it as an order. Besides, menial kitchen duty would be a good time to sort out my thoughts. Even with just one question looming over my mind the entire day.

Just what did I get myself into?