A Pirate's Song.

Chapter Fourteen.

Twelve years ago.

Caleb.

I peeked through the window of the bakery, having to crouch down on the building next door’s roof to get a look at the redhead, working late into the night kneading bread and baking sweets for the people of the city.

I pushed the window open when I noticed that she was alone and crawled through, using my arms to lower myself onto one of the cleared tables where I landed with a not so graceful thud.

The girl barely seemed phased while she worked, not bothering to look back at me “What do you want, Caleb?”

I leaned back on the table, propping my hands palm down on the wood as I glanced at my surroundings, parted legs swaying back and forth.

The girl was fifteen-year-old Rebecca, the baker’s daughter who was as skilled with her hands as she was with her hips.

“Someone’s in a bad mood” I teased, eyes locking onto the baked goods that sat across from me on the table separating us. She reached for the rag that hung from her shoulder and started wiping her hands. I leaned forward, hand outstretched toward the cookies while I watched her. She picked up the tray she had been prepping and turned to pop it into the oven. I quickly shot up straight in case she saw me attempt to steel one of her famous sugar cookies.

“I hate baking” she said, bending down to check if the coals were still to her liking, warm enough to bake the dough without burning it. I leaned forward again when her back was to me, distracted by the oven and once again reached for a cookie.

“So why do it then?” I asked, hoping that the casual conversation would play in my favor, keeping her from thinking that I was up to something.

She sighed heavily, turning to face me. I shot up, the table rattling beneath me from the sudden movement. I glanced from the table to her and hoped that she hadn’t noticed.

“Not everyone has a choice” she muttered, heading over to the shelf beside the table I was seated on, grabbing another tray to start on another batch. I relaxed when she didn’t seem to have noticed my stealthy attempts to steel one of her treats.

“Some of us are born into responsibility” she began, talking in her ‘high born’ ways again. She was raised to speak proper English, was bought nice things and would one day inherit the bakery.

I had heard the speech a thousand times, about how she hated to bake and loved to dance at the tavern down the street every other night. If she had it, her way she would trade her apron for a stage in a heartbeat.

“Born into it or forced into it?” I asked, clasping my hands together as my eyes followed her around the room. She stacked some dough onto the tray, grabbed some flour and a clean knife then went back to where she had previously been standing to get to work on prepping her next batch for the oven.

“Is there really a difference?” she questioned, glancing at me before she turned to knead the dough and cut it into little squares. I eyed her back, every now and then shooting a quick glance in the direction of the cookies.

“No, so why are you letting yourself be forced into it?” I replied, leaning forward again, my fingers brushing over the counter in front of me, just too short to reach one of the baked, brown shapes.

Rebecca looked up at the window in front of her, pausing when she contemplated my words. Being born into something made it sound like a privilege whereas being forced into something made it sound like a burden when really they were the same thing.

“Because…if my parents-.” she tried to argue, beginning slow, counting her words.

I sighed when my arm dropped back to my side and I was left glaring at the cookies in frustration. I contemplated getting up and taking one but she was smart, she knew that I hated moving when it didn’t really benefit me so obviously there would be a reason for my movements.

I interrupted her “And what if they found out about you working at the bar?” it wasn’t uncommon for girls her age to start waiting at taverns or work at w***e houses but Rebecca was different, she wasn’t poor or in need of the money, she just loved dancing. The only reason she did it was to feel free after being cooped up inside the bakery for most of her life.

She hurriedly turned to look at me from across the room “Why would they-?” I could hear the end of her sentence before she even spoke it ‘Why would they find out?’

She was nervous and terrified of the thought, her hands gripping the edge of the table she had been working on. Again I cut her off when I realized that she didn’t understand what I was implying.

“If it would make them mad then why are you doing it?” I tried rephrasing my question. She bit at the inside of her cheek, something she did whenever she was nervous or distraught.

I watched her, silently hoping that she would turn back around so that I could start my fourth attempt at steeling one of her treats but she didn’t, eyes glued to the baked batches in front of her, deep in thought.

“Because I love it” came her simple response. Her shoulders shrugged as if it was obvious. I propped my elbows onto my knees and leaned forward, half wanting to see the realization in her eyes, half wanting to taste something sweet.

“But you hate baking” I stated.

She glanced at the oven in the corner then quickly turned back around to start folding the dough into small, delicate shapes. My eyes narrowed, knowing fairly well that she was catching on to my argument and wanted to avoid it.

“If you love dancing but have to keep it a secret then are you really taking full responsibility of the bakery or are you just pretending?” her movements began to slow, her hands stilling in front of her while she gazed down at the folded pieces.

I slowly crept forward, my arm extending once more as I slid closer to the edge, fingertips brushing against one of the treats that were within my grasp.

“Because if that’s what you’re doing then isn’t your life just one big act?” I added, glancing in her direction to make sure that she didn’t turn around or notice me.

My hand moved to curl around the biscuit but I froze when a knife flew past my head and imbedded itself in the wall behind me. I looked to where it had come from to find Rebecca glaring at me, fiercely wiping her hands on the same cloth from before.

“Nice try” she complimented, moving around the counter toward me. I shot upright on the table and looked down at her when she came to a stop directly in front of me. Her eyes were blazing, dangerous but they soon softened when a small smile crept onto her lips.

“You know, sometimes I regret teaching you how to speak properly-.” she informed me, pausing to turn and pluck the cookie I had been after up from its tray to examine it as if it was some sort of rare gem.

“You have a way of toying with people’s minds” she added, her hand moving to grab mine, turning it so that the palm was facing up to place the treat in the center of it. She let go of my hand to retrieve the knife from the wall then return to her baking.

I wasn’t sure if her words were meant as a compliment or as something bad but she didn’t seem to want to elaborate so I resorted to changing the subject “I heard there’s pirates in the bay”

The knife cluttered to the floor following my words. I stuck the cookie in my mouth and chewed, the familiar sweet and cinnamon taste filling my senses. Before I could swallow, Rebecca swiftly turned and shot me a glare.

I froze “No” she abruptly said, leaving no room for argument. I slowly started chewing again then swallowed with a loud gulp. She looked as though she was going to erupt at any moment.

“I know what you’re thinking-.” she started, raising her hand to point a stern finger at me from across the room, the light from the candles highlighting her angry eyes and making her seem older “And there’s no way that I am letting you go through with it”

It was safe to say that she knew me better than anyone and her assumption wasn’t wrong, the worry hidden behind her anger wasn’t without reason. I sighed, leaping down from the table to move around the room and over to where she was stood. Her hand lowered back to her side while she watched me.

“I’m not going through with anything” I lied, bending down to scoop the knife up off the ground, mostly because I was afraid that she would chuck it at my head again and felt safer with it in my grasp. She studied me, eyes looking for any telltale sign of a lie.

“You’re lying” she finally stated. I pressed the tip of the knife against my index finger, twisting it around a few times as if I were going to stab the skin but didn’t apply enough pressure to do so.

“Me? Lying? Never” I sarcastically said, turning to lean against the table with one elbow propped up on it. I shot her my best smile but she didn’t seem to find it entertaining in the slightest. I tightened my grip on the knife to make sure that she didn’t somehow steel it from me.

She had a tendency to chase people with sharp objects.

“I’m being serious, Caleb” my smile faded and I huffed in response to her words, turning my head to look at the streets beyond the window of the bakery. They were empty, cobblestone roads that were lit with orange light that radiated out from the street lamps.

“So am I” my tone was empty, almost sad which Rebecca quickly noted. She shoved my shoulder, hard, sending me staggering back a few steps, the knife cluttering out of my hand and down to the floor by my bare feet.

I had no shoes, had no shirt to cover my back. All the money I stole went to my mother, to give her everything she had to sacrifice so that I could eat, so that I could live.

“Don’t be an i***t!” she yelled at me, the flames from the candles flickering around us and making her look angrier than she really was. My hands clenched at my sides, not sure how to respond to her so I waited for her to continue.

“What exactly are you planning on steeling? Crossbones? Rum?” she demanded, throwing her arms up in exasperation as she stalked closer to me, hiking up the skirt of her dress so that she didn’t step on it in her haste. I leaned back but stayed rooted in place.

“Where there are pirates, there is gold” I informed her, staying calm. Her nostrils flared and she glared up at me, looking ready to throw a punch at any moment. She snorted loudly, her hands tightening on the material of her dress.

“You’re going to get yourself killed” she said, her voice serious but not as loud anymore. She stood upright, her shoulders square and her head shaking from side to side when she turned her gaze to the floor.

“I won’t let you leave here” she declared, her eyes meeting mine once more to show how determined she was to keep me captive in that bakery for as long as it took for the pirates to leave the city.

I smiled down at her, a sad smile that was interrupted when the smell of something burning reached our noses.

“The cookies!” she exclaimed and rushed to retrieve them, grabbing a cloth from the counter and wrapping it around her hand to not burn herself when she would take the tray out of the oven. She crouched down in front of it, tossing the tray onto one of the tables when it started to burn through the fabric.

“Ow! Dammit!” she cursed, dropping the cloth and shaking her hand, blowing on her burnt fingers while she rushed over to a bucket of fresh water. She dipped her hand in it to calm the stinging.

By the time she stood up from her knees and turned to face me, her hand gripping the wrist of her wounded one, it was already too late.

She realized that in her frantic search for something to calm the burning, I had slipped away and into the night.

T

he tavern was filled with the laughter of men, the singing of women, the smell of alcohol and the sight of smoke when I entered through the door, eyes scanning the many faces, most of which were the faces of men.

There was a group that stood out among the rest, pushed into the far corner looking as though they were debating something. I took a seat a few tables down from theirs, listening in on their conversation that grew louder the more they drank.

The man in charge wore a Captain’s hat and a red coat, his grey beard decorated in feathers and beads as he downed his rum.

“We be sailing at dawn for the dragon’s talon” he announced, holding his bottle out toward the rest of his men. They clanked their cups against the bottle and cheered in response before downing the rest of their drinks. My ears perked up at the mention of some type of treasure, eyes glancing toward the old map that was spread out across the table. If they were to leave at dawn, then that meant there was little time for me to steel their loot out from under their noses.

“Can I get you anything?” I was snapped out of my train of thought by a woman who placed her palm flat against the surface of my table, leaning closer with a slightly annoyed scowl plastered across her stained red lips. She was a waitress judging from her apron and the trey that she balanced with one hand.

I knew that if I said something sarcastic or rude that it would attract too much attention. I didn’t want the pirates to notice me so I nodded and spoke up politely.

“Some ale, if you please” she glared at me, her eyes trailing down to my stolen shirt, torn trousers and warn boots. I had gotten them from a man who had passed out in the stables outside the tavern but she didn’t need to know that. It would’ve been even more suspicious if I hadn’t been wearing any shoes or a shirt.

“Coming right up” she finally said after examining me. I shot her a forced smile when she turned to leave calling out across the bar to where a man was serving drinks.

Once she was out of sight, I shot up, my hand grabbing the hat of the man nearby and propping it on top of my head to hide my face as I left. The drunken man didn’t even notice that his hat was missing.

I threw the hat across the street when I exited, glancing in the direction of the docks, the sound of the waves in the distance reaching my ears along with the smell of sea salt. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my pants and made my way in that direction, whistling occasionally when I would get bored from the walk. The black body of water came into view long before the ships did, seeming to stretch on forever as it appeared to swallow whatever would venture near it.

I pressed my back against the wall of the post office when the watchman walked past, his boots thudding against the cobble stone, loudly.

My eyes landed on my newfound boots and I huffed when I had to pull them off, setting them aside, gently so as to not make a sound.

When the guard had disappeared into the distance, I strode around the corner, searching the ships for anything that struck me as unusual or odd. I froze when my eyes landed on the dark wood ship with black sails and a woman as a figurehead. One flag in particular stood out from the rest, the crossbones that were painted on black fabric danced in the sea breeze.

I searched for a way on board the ship and to my luck, my eyes landed on netting that went up, onto the side of it. My head turned to see where the watchman was, not finding a trace of him as I strode onto the docks, coming to a stop on the edge of it, near the side of the pirate ship. There was something painted onto the side of it in big black letters but because I couldn’t read, I shrugged it off and took it as being the ship’s name. My knees bent, arms outstretched in front of me when I leapt from the dock, hands and fingers tangling in the netting to hoist me up higher so that my feet could find leverage. My body had struck the side of the ship, sending a loud thud into the night that caught the attention of the watchman. I heard the sound of a dog barking in the distance along with the handle of a lamp squeaking as it swayed back and forth. My body began to move on its own, quickly scaling the side of the ship until I could hoist myself over the railing, onto the deck. I hunched low when the sound of feet nearing the ship alerted me of someone approaching. The orange light from the lamp was raised as if to look at the ship and after some time it faded back into the distance.

I released the breath I had been holding and stood upright, eyes scanning the deck only to find crates, row boats and barrels decorating it. The bow harbored nothing special either. I noticed a door close to where I was and moved towards it, hand grabbing onto the handle to see if it was unlocked. To my shock, it was allowing me to descend the steps into what looked to be the Captain’s quarters. The room harbored a large bed, a desk, nightstand, dresser and armchair but nothing of value. I opened the drawers but only found clothes,

I searched the cluttered desk but there were only maps, maps that I couldn’t read. There was nothing, no treasure, no gold, no jewels, only the essentials. I was about to turn and leave when the door slamming shut caught me off guard.

“What do we have here?” the Captain’s voice from earlier reached my ears. My head turned to meet with the sight of the man in the red coat and three others. He was grinning at me, his gold teeth catching the light of the moon that pooled in through the porthole.

“A street rat, looking for something to steel” my eyes roamed from one to the other. Why hadn’t I heard them coming? Why were they back so early? The Captain noticed my confusion and chuckled, his chest rumbling and head thrown back.

“Ye take me for a fool, boy?” he asked once he stopped laughing, his hand motioning towards the shirt I wore. It was an old brown shirt with leather sleeves, something I hadn’t noticed at the time but leather sleeves were rare.

“Ye shirt belongs to a very kind gentleman who had helped me read this” he pulled the book from before out of his pocket and held it up for my eyes to see. There were gold and silver rings littering his fingers and I kicked myself for not bothering to steel them instead, it would’ve been better than to waste my time with the ship since there was nothing of value to be found there.

“Of course, this was before he left and ye stole his clothes” I stayed silent, eyes scanning the room for any form of an exit but there was none, only the small porthole and the door that they were blocking. I cursed my idiocy, making a mental note that if I was to ever go unnoticed in a bar again, that I stole clothes from a man who hadn’t been at that bar before I was. He stuffed the book back into his coat pocket and turned to his men.

“Get him” the three of them short forward, ambushing me. I tried to fight, getting a few punches in before my hands were tied in front of me and I was dragged out onto the deck. The Captain was pacing back and forth impatiently, his hands folded behind his back as the rest of his crew stood around us, watching, cheering and laughing, some even spitting insults in my direction. The Captain paused to look at me, rushing forward to grab hold of the hair at the scruff of my neck, pulling on them to force my head up, forcing me to meet his almost black, grey gaze.

“Tell me, boy, do ye know what happens to thieves on a pirate’s ship?” he asked, his breath smelling strongly of alcohol and blood. I tried struggling but when I did, he tightened his grasp, forcing me to respond to his question, meeting his beady eyes.

“N-Not quiet” was my slightly sarcastic response. He searched my face, his eyes going to the corner of my lips that tilted upward from the pain that shot through my neck and head. His nose scrunched up in disgust and he shoved me aside, toward the side of the ship.

“Make him walk the plank!” his crew erupted into cheers of excitement, two of the men grabbing hold of my arms as another slid the plank into place, making sure that it wasn’t stationed near the shore or docks. I could easily swim to land if need me but if both my wrists and ankles were tied, how would I manage? Anyone could drown in shallow water if the ropes were tight enough. I was lifted into the air, kicking as one of the men tied some more rope around my legs and feet to hold them in place. I was placed on the plank with my back to the pirates, the tips of swords digging into my back through the material of my shirt.

“Now jump!” one of the men bit out, a slight chuckle to his tone. I glanced down at the water below, dark and black and most likely cold from the breeze that dug into my skin. Rebecca’s words danced in the back of my mind ‘You have a way of toying with people’s minds’.

I slowly turned to face the men, their eyes brimming with bloodlust and excitement as they stared at me. The Captain was sat on a chair behind the rest, silently observing from afar as his men chanted for me to jump.

“As much as I would like to get off this ship-.” I began, the crew falling silent when I spoke. I glanced back down to the water behind me and sighed heavily. It wasn’t the time to panic, I had to be smart, use my words to weasel my way out “I’m afraid that this method isn’t doing it for me” the Captain shot up from his seat, moving like a wild beast over to the plank. He drew his sword, a weapon much bigger than the rest and pointed it at me, the tip tilting my head back when it threatened to cut my chin.

“Ye think this be some sort of joke, boy?” he questioned, his lips pulling back as if he were to snarl directly at me. It would be a lie to say that I wasn’t terrified, but my better judgement told me to suppress the fear since fear was what all pirates craved. I tilted my head to the side to avoid his blade and gently raised my tied hands to push it aside.

“Not at all, I’m merely suggesting that we find some other way for me to leave this ship” like many, the pirate only stared, confused and not catching on to what I was implying so I tried giving hints, hoping that he at least had some common sense to put two and two together.

“I’m a thief, a decent one, or at least that’s what I would like to believe-.” I continued, wanting to punch myself for making a simple mistake that had gotten me into that situation in the first place. Some of the crew chuckled at my words, finding it funny that I viewed myself as a skilled thief.

“I’m particularly good at steeling things, valuable things from rich, noble people” at the word ‘noble’ a familiar gleam lit in their eyes. The crew shared looks, muttering under their breath as the Captain, pulled his sword back a few paces, giving me room to breathe.

“The Campbell’s?” he questioned, a sinister fog filling his already dead glare but as soon as it was there, it was gone, replaced with curiosity and confusion. He again stuck his sword out towards me, letting the tip press into my left shoulder.

“And what do they have that could be of value to me?” he applied pressure, the blade biting through my skin. I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to scream when he started twisting it as if attempting to drag the answer right out of me. My upper lip twitched and my muscles tensed throughout my entire body at the ongoing pain. Eventually I rushed the words out.

“Their daughter, their most prized possession!” the Captain let up once my strangled cry filled the air and pulled his sword back once more. I was breathing heavy, the warm red liquid soaking through the fabric of my stolen shirt as I glared at him from across the plank. He enjoyed seeing me squirm, he feasted off the pain of others like the pirate that he was, a cruel and unforgiving man.

“Their daughter? What do ye expect me to do with the girl? Sell her for a bottle of rum?” he demanded, keeping his view of the future as narrow and bleak as possible. He was fierce and brutal but he was narrow minded which was most likely why he had no treasure, no gold or jewels because they were all he could think about. I breathed a laugh.

“She’s leverage” I bluntly stated, the laughter in my eyes replaced with an irritated, narrow eyed glare that I shot in his direction. The Captain seethed his sword, the familiar sound of metal scraping against metal meeting my ears as the blade reflected the orange light from the lamps that hung around the ship.

“Leverage for what exactly?” I couldn’t contain the anger that shot through me. He was older but certainly not wiser, bigger and stronger but he didn’t have the wit to use his strength properly. If I hadn’t been tied and stood on the edge of a plank, I would’ve easily been able to outsmart him, escaping though, with thirteen other men aboard the ship wouldn’t have been possible either way.

“What are you? An i***t?” I snapped, the crew falling silence around us. The Captain shot me a dangerous look, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword as if contemplating to cut me down there and then. I quickly calmed myself and added.

“With the girl in your grasp you own the Campbell’s and if you own the noble family, you own the entire city” he halted his actions, pausing to maul over my words for a moment. I wasn’t offering him a rare stone or gold; I was offering him a city which was more than what any pirate had ever owned. He could rule over it, gain all the gold he desired, have all the jewels he could dream of. He could live a life of luxury in exchange for my life of course.

He nodded “Untie him” the Captain ordered to which his crew dragged me back onto the ship and unwound the ropes from my legs and wrists. I was tossed onto the deck with a loud thud that knocked the air out of my lungs. I gasped when a pair of boots came into view beside my head followed by the Captain bending down so that we were face to face.

“Ye bring me that girl or I shall have ye head” he threatened, eyes haunting as they bored into the depths of my soul. I nodded hastily, pushing myself up from the deck and onto my feet.

“Help him overboard!” came the snarl and my feet were once again lifted off the ground only to have myself tossed over the side of the ship and into the water. I surfaced from the ebony water, gasping and coughing from having swallowed some water when the cold struck me. The Captain came into view above, leaning across the railing to peer down at me.

“Ye have one day before I send my men to find you” the warning was followed by him laughing, his crew cheering as they returned to their tasks, drinking and dancing, singing and cursing. I dove down into the water and swam for the shore, dragging myself onto the sand and feeling a sharp sting radiating from my shoulder that made me vomit into the water that pooled around me.

When I could finally think about the bargain, it was too late to go back on my words, I had to find the Campbell’s daughter and bring her to them or else I would die an agonizing death. If I were to flee the city, they would attack, killing the people, killing Rebecca, my mother.

I shook my head to try and clear it as I forced myself onto my own two feet. I had to go through with it, for the sake of everyone I held dear