User:Nextoy/Pirate Thing/Chapter 2

It wasn’t until we reached America that I realized how strange Creedence truly was. Or how normal he was for his homeland. As I spoke before, I knew this was an unusual sort of man, but the full gravity of the situation didn’t hit me until long after the point where I felt as though I could have backed out.

“This, my dear friends, is North Carolina.” Creedence announced, his face beaming at the land he called home. “We’ll be staying here a few days, so feel free to linger around!” I found myself sharing Creedence’s glowing expression, even if I had no idea what he could be so excited about.

What’s so special about one’s birthplace? This was a question that had never even crossed my mind before meeting Creedence. But here, in the colonies, was where Creedence poured his heart out. On the way to port, even before sighting land, I had heard stories. A place where camaraderie, peaceful militarization, and a staggering amount of alcohol was commonplace. I didn’t seem like the only one stunned and confused by these stories, either. Many of the former slaves aboard the ship probably had similar thoughts as I did.

Hell, I can’t tell you how many stories either included or started with Creedence or one of his Marine’s telling someone to hold their beer or applejack. Including one that ended in him getting kicked out of the bar for blowing it up by accident. A feat I’m still not sure how to process.

Yet here we are. In a port in North Carolina. A place that I theorize many of the ship’s crew hadn’t seen until this point, myself included. Again I marvelled at how an American ship had so many people with nothing to do with the colonies.

On the way to the colonies I actually asked him about this.

“Because everyone deserves a chance at freedom, kid. Remember when I told you that nobody on this ship was a fortunate son?” Though it had been easily a month now, I remember the speech quite clearly. I sometimes slept on those thoughts. The thoughts of rising above.

“How many people on here are like you? Nobodies with nowhere to stay and nothing to lose? How many do you think are people I bought off slavers? Men from Africa, Colombia, or some other place that may as well be another world?” Creedence barraged me with question after question with a serious look on his face. Few times did I ever see him serious, and every time it sent chills down my spine.

“A man once told me about a poem he read. I don’t remember the full thing now, but there was a part in it that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.’ Well I’m doing just that.” He gave me no time to answer the questions before answering my own in full.

“You don’t gotta be born in America to be an American. The only difference between me and the men on the Fortunate Son is legal citizenship. All it takes to be an American is the drive to do what’s right, no matter what the cost, and to stand up for the freedom given to us by God.” For a moment, I remember Creedence tearing up before lowering his head and chuckling. “Helps if you’re crazy, though.”

He laughed at my look of confusion and amazement. Despite the serious tone, it was the same laugh that he always had. One that was contagious, genuine, and almost childish. It was times like those where I felt like the most mature person on the ship despite being the youngest and least battleworn.

It was odd how long he had to sit in the bay, and when the first mate came back on the rowboat he didn’t seem too happy. Yet we were able to dock. I heard among the crew that Creedence wasn’t too welcome in the port town despite it being his home. When I asked why that was, nobody was willing to reply.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask Creedence directly either. My home was the only place I’d known until joining the Fortunate Son, so I couldn’t imagine not being welcome there. I at least had the benefit of being invisible… for whatever that’s worth. The city itself wasn’t what I had imagined. It wasn’t grand, nor was it particularly extravagant or beautiful. It was quite simple and had the same kind of bustle I’d expect to see anywhere else. The America I had envisioned was nothing like the picture Creedence had painted in my head. A world where natural wonders met European architecture. In a literal sense that was true, but it lacked the polish I would have thought.

But then again, Creedence himself had that same rough texture to him.

“Hey, Marco.” Creedence called me aside once he had tied up the ship. Marley and the marines were standing with him. “How would you like to go camping with us while everyone else stays in town?”

“I’d be happy to. Not like I got anything to do here anyways.” I replied, jumping a bit when he through an arm around my shoulders.

“Come on. I’ve got a great spot out in the wilderness.” Creedence motioned for all of us to follow as we went back aboard the Fortunate Son to grab some supplies from the ship.

With that, we rushed off out of town before I really had much of a chance to explore the place. I certainly didn’t mind, as I was being honest about not really having a place there, but it felt so odd to weigh anchor in a town only to immediately leave. Especially since we had spent the whole day just walking around.

At the end of the day we came to this cabin out in the middle of the woods. It looked like it’d only comfortably fit two people, let alone the six of us. Each of us set down our backpacks against the cabin before turning to our captain.

“Alright, start up a fire for the night and I’ll get the tent set up.” Creedence told us, motioning for all of us to set out. “Except for you, Marco. Come with me.”

As the others walked off me and Creedence head to the cabin. Inside was some iron rods and a cloth sheet easily large enough to cover the cabin multiple times over. Not even a bed nor fireplace was inside. Only a chest and cooking supplies besides what we had gone in to grab.

“Grab the cloth. We’re setting up the tent with it.” Creedence told me, grabbing the iron rods and walking out. I followed behind him with the cloth. He stabbed the rods into the ground, making a circle around the sticks and tinder that the others had made, and motioned for me to tie down the cloth onto the rods.

“This… isn’t a tent.” I pointed out once we were finished. Everyone merely laughed at my remark.

“Well, it is now.” One of the marines argued, having unrolled a blanket onto the ground beneath it. We ended up making a circle of blankets around the campfire, with the backpacks placed inside the now closed cabin.

“Hey kid, I heard you were asking around about why we aren’t welcomed in town.” Creedence spoke up, looking straight at me.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“When you joined the ship, were you abandoned or an orphan?” Creedence stared me in the eye, his gaze unflinching.

“The hell kind of question is that?” I asked in return. I stood up and glared down at the captain, but he didn’t move.

“Well, we were abandoned.” He continued, knowing he wouldn’t get his answer. “Not long ago a civil war happened between the different states. North Carolina joined the confederacy.” Creedence explained, looking over to his marines.

“And we fought for the union.” One of them, who I came to know as Thomas, spoke up. He was the first mate, and the most social of the marines. “To this day some of our families still hate us. But we fought for what we thought was right.”

“Worse yet, we didn’t even see the war to the end.” Creedence threw something into the fire, I didn’t catch what, as he spoke. “We came home when we knew the Union had won. This only solidified in people’s heads that we’re just a bunch of turncoats.”

I stared at the men as I sat back down. My outburst felt… childish in comparison. Even Marley was silent, though he hadn’t had much to say since we hit port to begin with.

“Wait, so how long have you guys been sailing then?” I asked, having calmed down in light of everything.

“Few years now, off and on. Basically since the war ended.” Thomas answered, putting some cut up vegetables and meat into a pot. “Before you ask; we were infantry in the war. The Fortunate Son belonged to some dickhead nobody liked, so we took it.”

“People have forgiven us for that. But not for joining the union.” Creedence spoke with one leg raised in the air and his arm atop it. His gaze was solely locked onto the fire. I know he saw something inside it, but I didn’t ask what.

“So now he gathers up people who he thinks feels like him, man.” Marley piped up. “Guess he felt a kinship with you like he did us slaves.”

“You ain’t no slave, Marley. Stop talking like that.” Creedence yelled at him, getting up and turning away from us. “I’m going to go check on the traps. I’ll be back later.” He informed us before grabbing his rifle and walking off. Having seen the power behind that Sharpes, I wondered at the time if it was really necessary to hunt rabbits with.

Although I’d certainly want the added fire power if I saw a bear.

The dutch oven meal was actually fairly good, despite just being a stew. Better than what I was used to on the ship at least. It was weird considering Thomas was the chef there was well. All I could think of as to why would be the fresher ingredients, but who knows?

The next morning seemed like any other. I was the last to wake up, as nobody wanted to bother me while I was sleeping. Everyone had happily calmed down from last night’s conversation.

“Morning.” Was all I spoke while we were at camp. Nobody really gave me much of a reply, but I did overhear an interesting conversation when Creedence had left to gather up supplies.

“Why is the Captain always so hostile when the war comes up?” Marley asked, idly playing with his breakfast.

“It’s... because of his brother.” Thomas seemed hesitant to speak of it, despite openly answering the question. “Dunno much about him other than that he was a confederate soldier. The two of them kept meeting each other on the battlefield.”

The two didn’t speak more on it. Honestly, I don’t blame them. I never did end up approaching Creedence about it myself. Half because it felt wrong to, and half because our plans had changed by the time that I could have.

Someone had ran up to our camp and spoke to Creedence personally. Someone I didn’t recognize, and couldn’t hear from his conversation. However I could tell from Creedence what had happened.

“Grab the backpacks. We’re heading into town.” He ordered, a calm fury about him. We all packed up and left, seeing a ship in the bay harassing and breaking down those with US flags. How one ship was able to take on three at a time I still don’t fully understand. Nor do I understand how Creedence ran straight to his own ship, rallying the crew along the way. Not everyone got on board in time, but enough of us to run the ship. He went straight into the fray, not caring about his own safety. Only the safety of a town that had long since abandoned him.

“Prepare the cannons!” He cried out, eyeing the ship. I did the best I could to help, but for the most part it felt like I just got in the way. I couldn’t deal with the frantic nature of what was happening. Best I could do was let everyone do their work and assist when called out.

“This bastard…” I heard Creedence growl under his voice. I’d seen him serious before, but not like this. This anger was one I had witnessed only once and will probably never witness again.

Once we were in range cannons rang out, most missing the enemy ship. It wasn’t like the other pirates. It was able to maneuver around, dodging cannon fire with a surprising amount of ease. Counter fire slammed against our ship as well, causing Creedence to fall back on his favored tactic.

“God damn it, men! Ram them!” He called forth. Everyone braced themselves as the boat turned, hit the enemy ship at an angle, and embedded itself into the hull.

I had little time to think before the captain and his marines started firing upon the enemy from their positions. The rest of us made a defense against the enemy raiding party. Our job, as I understand now, was simply to anchor the ship in one place. And of that we were successful.

The captain tossed his rifle to another Marine once he noticed us getting overrun, and jumped into the frey himself. No sword, no pistol, just jumped forward and saved one of his crew with a well placed punch to the head. An elbow to a man behind him, a stomp on another enemy’s ankle, and he sent a punch from the arm he had already primed back. He pushed the momentum forward, almost dancing along this battle like an experienced boxer. Despite his raw aggression I could see him ducking and weaving past swords hacking at him.

With his help we brought the fight to them. My memories of the fight itself are hazy now, but I think his presence rallied the crew as much as his aggression and inability to care about his own safety demoralized the enemy. Creedence fought like a man possessed by demons, throwing himself at everyone he could see while sticking into the densest crowd he could find.

A shot rang out. This one stuck me as different from the other guns. Not in how loud it was, or the smoke coming from the crowd, but because Creedence stopped. He gripped his shoulder as a man dressed like a Spanish naval officer walked out, firing another shot into his knee. Creedence dropped, and everything stopped.

The officer placed a sword at my captain’s neck, a completely still expression on both men’s faces. Cold gazed down, and fire gazed back up.

“Stupid Americans. Have you no shame or dignity?” The man spoke without the spanish accent his suit suggested. Rather, he sounded oddly Italian to my admittedly untrained ears. “This port is lost. I have soon sunk four ships, and I will sink forty more if that’s what it takes.”

“You going to kill me, or not?” Creedence asked. The enemy officer growled as I notice Creedence’s hand had gripped something else on his shoulder.

“Only a savage would kill a downed man. Now surrender.”

“Fuck that. Either kill me, or let me get up so you can die like a man.”

“Why defend so dearly land you do not own?” The officer asked, having calmed himself already. “Whatever you call home belongs to either France, Britain, or Indians. America is not a true nation, so why fight.”

“Because of men like you who take what you want just cause you think nobody owns it.” Creedence answered, chuckling to himself.

“I just said it was owned, just not by you.” The officer’s eyes narrowed as he gazed down at Creedence.

“So what, you’re a liberator? What freedom do you bring? Freedom to steal from your lessers? To destroy lived built by hard labor?” For that, Creedence got a warning cut along his face. “Cause I’m sorry to say, but that shit doesn’t fly here.” “I’ve heard enough.” The captain brought his arm back for a thrust, only to be interrupted by a knife being thrown into his throat. The shock made him drop his sword, choke on his own blood, and grip the knife with both hands. As Creedence got up, he pointed to the enemy officer. A marine fired a shot through his head.

“That’s what does. Defending your rights and liberties! We may not be fortunate sons, but we at least work for what’s ours!” Creedence began to speak as he got up, walking backwards. “This is America, where everyone has the right to fulfill their full potential!”

He had backed himself against the rim of the ship, blood seeping out of him. As it turns out, he wasn’t nearly as invincible as I had thought. Slashes across his entire body bled out. I rushed over to him, as did a few other men.

“I have no worries, no regrets, that every American aboard this ship will do just that. So don’t remember this as the day y’all merely defended some random port to the bitter end, but as the day I taught every last one of you how to manifest your own destinies!” With that, he fell backwards into the bay.

It felt like he was talking just to me. Like his eyes were locked onto mine. In that moment the rest of the fight didn’t exist, just me and the dying captain. What his thoughts were in that moment I couldn’t even guess, but once I was at the railing I couldn’t see him. Not even a pool of blood where he might have been.

Instead, all I remember seeing was the clear waters of the bay before everything went black.