Wicked Runaway: A Mark Cannidor Adventure

Chapter Six

A hot sun shone down on Mark Cannidor as he slept in a rotten old rescue boat, filled with holes, and coated with mould and dried paint. The boat creaked loudly as it bobbed up and down on the water, however Mark was not fazed by this. He was so used to cramped spaces and he was fast asleep, too tired to care about where he was and how he had gotten there. He didn’t have a care in the world. He had no idea how long he had been at sea for. That didn’t matter at that point. All he knew was that he couldn’t survive for much longer. He had no sense of direction. In fact, he had forgotten the name of the place his friend Lorenz had told him to go to. The crate of supplies he took from the Lady Sinatra consisted of an old-world map and some fruits Mark had never eaten before. There were pineapples, coconuts, bananas…they did not seem all too filling. He had been relying on sea water to quench his thirst. The salt in the water was making his throat rather dry. He had managed to catch a couple of fish. But with no way to cook them, Mark was at a major risk to himself. The map did not help, either. It was worn and battered badly at the edges.

With the whooshing of the sea and the cawing of seagulls up above, Mark felt that he could be violently sick at any moment. He wanted to sit up, but the notion would have been too agonising for him.

The wood of the boat kept on creaking, swaying side to side. Mark opened his eyes, struggling with the bright sun shining in his eyes.

He was in such a desperate situation. Yet he was too tired to cry for help. His entire body ached from the heat. He couldn’t open his eyes with it being so bright. In the back of his mind, he knew that if help didn’t arrive soon, he could die…

Yet, before he knew it, he heard breathing. He slowly opened his eyes, which was quite difficult considering the sun was so bright it could have blinded him. If he had more energy, he would have been more alert, and perhaps he would have jumped up at the sight of what he saw. Remarkably, there was a shadow. A shadow of a person hovering over him. It was a difficult job for Mark to fully regain his vision from the hazy blur, having slept for so long. However, it became clear that the stranger crouching above Mark was a boy, perhaps not much older than he was. He had long and tangled bleach blonde hair with a brown hat on top of his head. He wore a red bandana around his neck, wore a long brown overcoat with a tattered shirt and dungarees. Mark wanted to scream loudly. His consciousness may have had the better of him, but it felt as though he was being kidn*pped.

Again.

The boy held a finger to his lips, a sign that he was telling Mark to keep quiet. Or was the boy warning him? Mark was too confused to tell. All he knew was that the boy was collecting Marks belongings and was trying to pull him up on his feet. It wasn’t working. Mark just felt far too weak to move. His legs gave way with the struggle he had to stand. Instead of landing on his feet, Mark fell back down on his backside.

‘We need some rope!’ the boy shouted upwards. Mark had no idea who the boy was speaking to. Moments later, the boy tied some rope around Mark, and then there was a sensation of being pulled upwards.

There was a cracking sensation in Marks ribs as he was hoisted upwards. He wanted to throw up so badly. His stomach felt so cramped, almost like he had eaten too much food. It was like he was losing the feeling of gravity itself. Wherever he was going, he could see any light. Maybe he was going to heaven? Was he dying? Was someone taking him away? Either way, his limbs flopped uncontrollably.

Soon afterwards, what felt like at least a thousand hands grabbed hold of him and dragged him onto a hard, wet wooden floor. A splash of water hit Mark, and he started coughing. He was gaining consciousness once more, almost the reverse of a fish swimming in water again.

‘That’ll do, Sophie,’ said a voice from above him. It was a man. A man with long black hair shaved at the sides, a stubble of beard, and a long black leather coat. He had piercing green eyes like those of a monster. And he observed Mark longingly, almost as if he had unravelled some buried treasure. Mark almost refused to make eye contact. In fact, with the bright sun shining in his eyes, add the fact that he was dizzy from fatigue, it was not easy to make sense of anything surrounding him.

The boy with the long blonde hair joined them and handed the man a box.

‘This is all that was left in the boat,’ the boy said.

‘Excellent work, Jeremiah,’ the man responded, studying the contents of the box. ‘And what of the old boat?’

‘A lost cause if you ask me,’ the boy said. ‘The sea rats can have it’.

The boy called Jeremiah chuckled.

Jeremiah? Just where had Mark heard that name before? At church? In the docklands, perhaps? He had a slight feeling that he recognised the boy.

‘Now then, young man,’ the man said, almost returning Mark to his senses. ‘You look as though you haven’t seen a bed for a long time’.

Mark painfully sat upright.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir’.

‘Don’t be silly,’ the man continued. ‘We found you out at sea all by yourself, with nothing but an old box of rubbish to show for it’. The man kicked the box as he spoke. ‘You wouldn’t have lasted long with a few tins and a soggy old map. You’re on the run, and I know it. I myself have been in your position, boy. Let me tell you – it is no easy feat being a runaway like yourself. I suffered a great deal when I was your age. I won’t let that happen to you as well’.

The girl called Sophie helped Mark to his feet. Somehow, she seemed rather familiar, too. She had brown hair tied back and wore a worn brown dress. As Mark stood up, she smiled rather shyly back at him. Yet, she seemed so full of adoration for him, almost as though she knew him. Could she have been one of the villagers at Battalion Manor?

Then again, why would any of the villagers be out at sea?

No. But upon closer observation, the girl did have the makings of a hospital nurse.

‘Good girl,’ the man said. ‘I think there’s some grub below deck for you and Jerry’.

‘Thanks, captain,’ Sophie replied. ‘And don’t let him hear you call him Jerry. You know he doesn’t like that’.

‘Who gives a rats tail about what he does and doesn’t like?’

Sophie shook her head and left, giggling. The captain turned back towards Mark.

‘Now then, it looks like you could do with a bite to eat yourself,’ the captain observed. ‘Naturally, we don’t normally take guests on board the Sellina. Complicated matter. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time to explain. But you, my young sir. You’ll do just fine’.

Mark was under the impression that he was being used for some secret cause. There had to be an alibi or something. There simply could not be any other reason as to why he was brought onto the ship like this. He was being held captive. He tried to step back, hoping to make another run for it. But he couldn’t move. He was rooted to the spot, and somehow, he didn’t want to move. It felt as though there was not enough sensation in his legs to move anywhere. He just couldn’t. Mark looked up at the captain, expecting the captain to grab him and prevent him from escaping. However, the captain laughed, and helped him to control his balance.

‘No need to fear,’ the captain continued. ‘We don’t need anything from you. We don’t bite. At least, most of us don’t. There is one you’ll want to be careful of, but don’t tell her I told you that. Right then! Allow me to show you around’.

Mark unwillingly followed the captain below decks down a flight of steps. It felt rather crowded down here, and Mark couldn’t quite determine how the ship could hold so many people. It was much smaller, and unlike the Lady Sinatra, this ship – the Sellina, or whatever it was called – was dark, cold, and dingy. There were cobwebs, the smell of damp, and what looked like dead bugs plastered to the walls. No, seagull droppings. Whatever. The place looked so unkempt and dirty compared to the Lady Sinatra. At least Malcheffi wasn’t on board though. At least, Mark hoped he wasn’t. Mark figured the place could do with a spring clean. Perhaps the same polishing as the Lady Sinatra received. Yet, Mark had to remind himself that perhaps some people didn’t bode too well with cleanliness. Perhaps it was a travel thing. Perhaps the crew did not have enough time? Mark had spent several days cleaning the Lady Sinatra from top to bottom. Maybe he would be asked to clean the Sellina as well.

Mark was brought into a crammed space with tables and benches. There were some crew members in here chatting away happily, laughing and eating food. As soon as the captain and Mark walked in, all activity stopped. All eyes turned on the captain, then down at Mark. It felt uncomfortable. Mark wasn’t used to been gawked at like this. He almost felt like a fresh piece of cooked brisket on a kitchen counter, ready to be devoured.

The last thing he wanted was to be the centre of attention.

‘Carry on, then!’ the captain snapped impatiently. ‘There ain’t anything to see here’.

The chatting continued, although it was a lot quieter than it was moments ago, when they arrived. A few people left the room, and Mark wasn’t surprised about that. Those who remained kept looking up at Mark, curious to see who this strange boy was and why he was brought on board.

The captain pointed towards a bench at the far end of the room, where there was a bit more privacy. Soon after, they were joined by Jeremiah and Sophie, both of whom sat a bench away from where Mark was.

They still seemed so familiar. Where had Mark seen those children before?

‘Of course, I forgot to introduce myself,’ the captain said sarcastically, smiling gingerly. ‘How sincerely silly of me to forget.

‘My name is Captain Stephen McGough,’ the captain continued. ‘First Officer and founder of the Sellina. This is my ship, and you are as welcome as anything. Just don’t touch the beautiful Garzer on the upper deck. That thing cost us an arm and a leg. We had to feed George to the crocodiles not so long back. The crew who sold it to us demanded more money. Right knock off if you ask me. Tragic day for us all.

‘As you can see, we are pirates. However, we are not ashamed. There is much more you will learn about us. But I hope you will learn just as much from us’.

Mark wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

What were they planning to teach him anyway?

‘This here is my right-hand man, Jeremiah Stimpton. I took him in at a time when he was forced into slave labour. I did not allow it. I gave him a second chance and brought him out of slave labour. Now he fixes…well, most of my problems. Mainly financially. I’ve cut back drastically on my sherry budget all thanks to Jeremiah. And this is Sophie Chance, our cleaner and medicine guru. Quite knowledgeable about most ailments and…other things…’

The captain cleared his throat, steering the conversation elsewhere.

Mark kept quiet. He was still in shock. All these introductions were too much for him. It was overwhelming. How was he supposed to get to know all these people straight away? It was so overwhelming.

‘You could do with some feeding,’ Captain McGough commented, observing how pale and weak Mark still looked. ‘There’s a buffet table right over there. Help yourself – then we can get onto some real work’.

Mark approached the buffet table feeling ill with disappointment. He didn’t anticipate for one moment that he would find anything extravagant or sustainable on board the Sellina.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

There were heaps of food sat right in front of him. He had a choice of bread, eggs, bacon, sausages, porridge, and fruit he had never even seen on the farm before. There were jams and marmalades, pickles, and vegetable broth. Spreads and other items he would have longed for back at Battalion Manor, and they were the kinds he only read about it books. In comparison to the bread and soup he ate back home, this was a real feast for the eyes and stomach. There was even a selection of drinks to choose from. Orange juice, tea, coffee…Malcheffi himself did not provide his crew with as many options. His crew all received the same food all at the same time. Here, it was much more leisurely. Pick and choose. As long as it was there, anyone could help themselves. In fact, crew members who Mark guessed were normally working hard at this time of the day were relaxing and doing whatever they pleased.

It was apparent that these people knew how to enjoy the high life. A crew who could feed themselves this well must have had a lot of money to play with. Then again – Malcheffi had him cooking larger meals for his crew. Maybe it required a lot of energy to do this sort of work.

Mark returned to the bench with a plate filled with eggs, bacon and sausage, some garden peas, and a goblet of orange juice. He was just about to tuck into his food. Yet, he suddenly felt sick to the pit of his stomach. This was far too much to take in all at once. Food was not important right now. What he needed was answers.

‘Where are we?’ Mark asked.

Captain McGough kept studying Mark, almost weighing his ability to know what was happening.

‘It’s difficult to say what our exact location is,’ Captain McGough responded after a few moments. ‘We lost track when we found you out there on your own. Now you’re here, we should be on course again. We’re probably sailing somewhere past the north of Scotland’.

‘So, you can take me back to England then?’ Mark asked optimistically.

The captain clicked his tongue.

‘Eat,’ Captain McGough commanded. ‘I promise. You need your strength’.

‘But what about…’

‘Eat’.

Mark was left with no other choice. He started eating, feeling bad for not knowing where in the world he was. It was frustrating, too, that he was so close to home. Yet the captain couldn’t just turn round and sail back to England? Once again, he felt just like a prisoner.

As the captain watched Mark chewing on a piece of bacon, he was joined by a slender woman with flowing purple hair, pale white skin, black lips and piercing dark eyes. She wore a black dress and seemed so exotic, almost as though she was out of this world. She stared intently at Mark like he was a brand new and expensive exhibition in a museum, smiling piercingly down at him.

‘My, he does look hungry,’ she whispered softly. Meanwhile, Mark was too busy to notice that the woman had joined them. His appetite had gotten the better of him. He concentrated on his food, too hungry to care about his surroundings.

‘He’s been out at sea for weeks,’ Captain McGough responded. ‘The only nutrition he’s had was from the sea water around him and canned peaches. Not much of a diet, if you ask me’.

‘I can think of another good idea for a diet,’ the woman continued, l*****g her lips, and focussing her hungry gaze at young Mark.

‘Hands off, Elizabeth,’ Captain McGough snarled. ‘He’s too young. Besides – he might be useful’.

The woman called Elizabeth shrugged playfully. She sat down at a bench besides the two children he had been introduced to.

Mark didn’t understand a word the captain was saying but looked up from his food and noticed Elizabeth sat opposite him. She watched Mark with amazement, smiling brightly at him. All of a sudden, Mark was filled with admiration for the woman. Her eyes met his, and she looked like the most beautiful woman Mark had ever seen.

It seemed like such an unusual encounter.

‘This is Elizabeth MacDougal,’ Captain McGough explained, breaking the silence. ‘She’s my Quartermaster and general repair woman. Also makes a good wife’.

The captain winked at the woman. Mark felt guilty for staring at her like that.

‘Although it goes without saying that most people wouldn’t believe we were married,’ Elizabeth chimed in. ‘We’ve been happily married since our early twenties. The time had passed since then. Slowly, of course. But surely. Our love may…never die…’

‘That will do from you, missus,’ Captain McGough snapped. ‘The boy doesn’t want to hear of your soppiness. Aren’t you supposed to be preparing my dinner?’

Elizabeth nodded towards the buffet. It was still full of food; however, Captain McGough shook his head.

‘I was going to send Sophie up,’ Elizabeth reiterated, nodding towards Sophie. ‘She looks like she could use something to do. Isn’t that right, Soph?’

Sophie pretended that she didn’t hear. Sophie looked up at the ceiling, pretending to count. Realising that she was not getting her own way with this, Elizabeth huffed and stood up.

‘I’ll do everything myself, shall I?’ Elizabeth spat, and she marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Some of the chatter died down for a moment. It picked back up again when the crew realised there was not a lot of drama going on.

Mark felt that it was not fair for the captain to treat his wife in that way. His father would never have spoken to his mother like that. Although it was strange that Mrs MacDougal did not seem all that upset. Rather, she was angry. She seemed furious that the captain had pushed her about like that.

He could not have blamed her.

‘My sincere apologies to you, young man,’ Captain McGough said. ‘She has a habit of, well, a lot of things if you ask me. Now then – you’ve finished your food. Let us get to work’.

Mark looked down and noticed that his food had, in fact disappeared from his plate. It was rather odd. Mark could only recall eating one or two mouthfuls of egg. He hadn’t even got round to eating the remainder of his meal. Yet, there it was. A clean plate. How had it gone away like that?

Mark was taken on a tour where he was shown most of the ship. As Captain McGough took him into the kitchen, the sleeping quarters, and areas of the top decks, there was an odd feeling of comfort. These people took him on board at a time of need. At a time when he was lost and on his own. The truth was that Mark was sceptical about this. Surely, an old ship like this couldn’t just find someone in the middle of the sea. Then again, didn’t the captain say they lost track when they found him?

Or were these people following him?

‘It’s like I was saying to Elizabeth,’ Captain McGough explained on their way down from the bow of the ship. ‘It’s a good job we picked you up when we did. You were on the brink of death out there’.

It was such a relief to know that he was saved at a time when he needed it the most. It still didn’t explain how the crew found him. Maybe it was just by coincidence.

Hopefully.

Surely, pirate crews picked up overboard passengers all the time.

After a tour of the Sellina, Mark began to feel rather exhausted. It had been a long day after all, even though he had lost track of day and night. Captain McGough had noticed this when Mark stifled a large yawn.

‘Looks like someone could do with a good kip,’ the captain said. ‘Maybe we should leave the heavy lifting until tomorrow?’

‘Heavy lifting?’ Mark asked out of curiosity.

The captain chuckled.

‘It’s a joke we have around here,’ the captain explained. Then his smile turned into a nasty frown.

‘I must warn you, though,’ the captain continued, lowering his voice, and sounding much sterner than he did moments before. He leaned in closer towards Mark and dropped his voice down to a whisper. ‘There are many bad things happening on these seas these days. Such bad things. Terrible. Too much for you to handle. If you think this is a mistake – you might be wrong. You have more powers than you may think. It is you who can save us all’.

Mark’s heart was beating fast. He struggled to concentrate. He was sweating. Bad things were happening…did this have anything to do with Malcheffi? Did they have anything to do with his parents? Was something else about to happen that Mark didn’t know about? The captain sounded oddly serious compared to before. Could the captain have meant this? What was he, young Mark Cannidor, destined to do to save the crew from whatever threatened them?

‘I don’t understand what you…mean…sir…’

‘Jeremiah!’ the captain shouted, looking around decks. ‘Where is he, the little devil?’

Mark was speechless. The captain was right - he needed to lie down, sleep and forget about this mess. Perhaps this whole thing was just a weird dream? Maybe he would wake up tomorrow morning, in his own bed, ready for another day of work on the farm?

‘Don’t take any notice of the captain, mate,’ said a voice behind him. Mark turned and saw Jeremiah holding his belongings.

‘Where did you…?’ Mark began, for he thought for a split second that he had left these on board the Lady Sinatra. Jeremiah was carrying his satchel. Then again, he remembered Lorenz giving him his bag shortly before he escaped from the ship. His head was far to fuzzy. Whatever had happened between leaving the Lady Sinatra and being picked up by the Sellina had been a blur.

‘There’s always a way,’ Jeremiah said, grinning as he handed the satchel back towards Mark.

Jeremiah took Mark down towards the sleeping quarters. They laughed about Captain McGough and talked a little bit about Elizabeth. Jeremiah told Mark that they were married, but it was oftentimes that they argued because of minor disagreements.

‘For instance, a few days ago, Elizabeth served roast beef,’ Jeremiah explained. ‘Halfway through the meal, Captain McGough fancied roast chicken instead. It was all petty if you ask me. But he tossed his unfinished meal at the wall and made Elizabeth cry. She refused to cook for days’.

‘That must feel awkward,’ Mark thought.

‘You’d think so,’ Jeremiah replied. ‘It can be pretty amusing sometimes. A few weeks ago, Lizzie splashed fiery rum into Ste’s face, causing him to go blind for an hour or so. Sophie had to…err, well, she fixed it anyway…’

Jeremiah blushed.

‘Well, then, here you are,’ Jeremiah said, and he pulled a curtain to reveal a small cabin with a bed and a little side table. There was a candle already lit, and a copy of a Dickens book laid on the table.

‘Oh, yeah, we figured you liked reading,’ Jeremiah continued. ‘So, we found a copy of a book for you’.

‘Thanks,’ Mark replied.

‘If you need anything, we’re above decks. The captain wouldn’t give me my own quarter, so…’

Jeremiah shrugged, then left.

This was unbelievable, Mark thought as he climbed into the bed. He felt abnormally at ease here, which was strange considering he had been stranded at sea just days before. Although he would have given anything to be back home at Battalion Manor, Mark still felt grateful for the crew of the Sellina rescuing him the way they did. Not many pirate ships would have done that. At least, not without a cause.

But it still didn’t quite add up.

What exactly did the captain want from him?