Scavenger

“I want in.” Pete paused, turning his head towards the petite girl that had been trailing after him ever since he set foot on the docks. She was scrawny and small in every sense but her eyes, big and brown staring at him expectantly. Despite the firmness in her gaze, her torn pieces of clothing which closely resembled rags took away any power from her. Another peasant, perhaps begging for his loose change. “I don’t have money with me, scram,” he replied, already pacing his steps to leave her behind but she caught up to him with ease, this time standing right in front of him as though her skinny arms could stop his massive form. “Did you not hear me clearly? I said I want in.” “In what, babe? My bed? My pants?” he chuckled when she glared at him. Her annoyance radiated, adding another layer of heat to the burning sun that was starting to rise. He was supposed to leave at daybreak but as usual he had a few issues to deal with the moment he opened his eyes and that issue came in the beautiful form of long legs and a big chest. Her name? Long forgotten. But his night was well spent before his tiring journey ahead. “You are as infuriating as they say, scavenger,” she said, her voice high and surprisingly feminine like the girls who scold him for leaving the bed too soon.  “And every bit as savage,” he winked before his face morphed into a more stoic one, “It’s best you do not bother me again, I do not treat those whose waste me time lightly.” With that said he continued his way towards the mighty ship that awaited him. It was truly a tremendous sight, glowing with the golden streaks from the break of dawn. Its dark brown exterior blended well with the seas, strategically painted in order to hide from pirates at night. The design was flawless, straight out of a little boy’s dreams, made from the sturdiest wood money can buy, pointed in the front and wide at the back. But the sheer size of it all was what always managed to take his breath away and make his chest puff with pride. It was almost as tall as a building with sails that looked large enough to trap clouds. He had 72 on deck, a crew large enough to aid him and small enough to control. “I want to join your crew,” an annoying voice chirped from behind him. He ought to tighten the security around him, for a billionaire it was far too easy for these peasants to be in close proximity with him.  “No girls on board,” he said dryly. Lord knows how distracted his crew would be with the presence of a female on the ship. 30 days of looking at nothing but blue waters was enough to turn this girl into a temptress for his men.  “But I am small, I can serve as a very useful asset in your voyage and even on your hunt. I can squeeze through small cracks, climb up steep hills and I am also very flexible. Though I do require a lot of food to fuel me up, I promise I’m a worthy investment.” Pretending to think, he allowed his gaze to shift around the area. The morning air was thick with fog and the salty smell of the ocean. His bones were lazy and his mind could not be bothered to entertain this nuisance who stood cross-armed before him. He smiled when his eyes finally landed on a familiar face, Ron.  Ron gave him a lazy smile before stalking up to them with his hands in his khakis shorts as though he had no care in the world. An irritating trait, his careless nature, considering that Pete had no other choice than to feed this extra mouth with no labor in return. “Cousin,” Ron draped an arm around him, winking at the girl, “must you always leave a trail of heartbroken girls each time you depart?” Relatively annoyed, he shrugged off Ron’s arm, “Do not mistake me as a man with no taste. See to it that this scoundrel does not follow me around anymore.” The girl was offended, her fist clenched to her sides as she tried to stop herself from shaking in anger - a trait which painfully resembled that of a chihuahua which she was not proud of. “No taste? How about you taste my fist!” “Woah, woah, easy there, little mouse,” Ron said, putting his hands on her shoulder as an attempt to calm her down. Pete remained unfazed, already making his way to his ship, leaving his cousin to deal with the pest. His crew greeted him, pausing from their respective workloads such as carrying cargo into the ship, tightening the sails and cleaning the deck. Each of their faces remained imprinted in his mind, thought their names never touched the tip of his tongue. Despite their prestige - his crew consisted of noblemens’ sons seeking the thrill of a little savagery - he had to ensure that they stayed in line and remained loyal to him.  A staggeringly tall man dressed in a well-ironed white uniform came up to him, “Sir, we are ready to set sail.” “Then let’s get going, captain. We’re losing precious daylight.” The fifty-year old man pressed his lips together, forming wrinkles at the corner of his mouth. Pete knew that he was to blame for the delay, but as usual no one would dare point a finger at him.  “I’d say that’s your own fault.” Except one. Pete glanced at his cousin from the corner of his eyes, maintaining his nonchalant expression. “Did you get rid of the pest?” Ron gasped, “Why would I ever get rid of you, you’re my favourite cousin!” “I’m your only cousin,” he answered drily.  The man smiled, as though it was the reply he was expecting. “To answer your question, yes I sent her away. No issue a few silver coins can’t solve.” Pete rubbed his temples, Ron had an annoying habit of unnecessarily throwing money at problems instead of overcoming it. This particular bad habit becomes even more troublesome when the solutions are coming straight out of Pete’s wallet. “Well, what are you waiting for? Raise the anchors,” Pete said, shifting his attention back to the Captain who nodded and scurried away. Within moments the ship’s atmosphere shifted into a buzz, his crew running around the ship, preparing to set sail. The bulkier men of his crew all gathered around to push the wooden rotator and lift the anchor aboard. Men were shouting over their shoulders, barking instructions to one another while managing the sails. Some were rearranging the cargo, setting it carefully in the middle of the ship tucked under the sails with a conspicuous blue cloth. It was merely a diversion in case of a pirate attack, the real resources were hidden in Pete's private chambers.  Standing at the forepeak, he inhaled deeply, enjoying the strong whiff of the ocean air. The cool morning breeze caressed his cheeks, like a mother welcoming her son home. The journey would take 42 days, half if they magically managed to swerve past the Gren Ocean’s notorious sudden change of weather. And if all goes well, he’ll return home once again with a massive amount of riches and a line of gorgeous women waiting to congratulate him.  His daydream was rudely interrupted by a rather aggressive tap on the shoulder. “What?” he said harshly coming eye-to-eye with a young boy who did not look a day older than 17. There were large age gaps among his crew, ranging from 15 year old boys to 60 year old men. Age did not matter on his ship, it was their contribution that was valued.  “There seems to be a problem sir, someone discovered a small hole in the ship," the blonde boy said.  Heat crept up Pete's face in embarrassment, they were only about a kilometre away from the dock and they were already encountering problems. It was a good thing he had banned media outlets from swarming the area before his departure or else they might witness his mighty ship meekly turning around back to the dock to fix a minor construction issue. No, it was too unheroic. “Well? Where is this hole located?” “Left side of the ship sir, about 30 meters above sea level. The captain suggests we return and fix it immediately.” Scavenger Pete was a lot of great things - at least according to the magazines about him that he kept on the top drawer of his cupboard beside his bed -  courageous, adventurous, charming, ambitious and much more but he most definitely was not good in maths. 30 meters to him were just numbers and words, he couldn’t fully comprehend measurements. But 30 meters did not sound alarming to him.  “There is no need for such drastic measures-” “Sir, we’re only about 5 minutes away from the dock-” He glared at the boy for interrupting him and he immediately shut up. “As I was saying, we’ll be wasting precious time for such minor inconveniences.” “But s-” “Jacob is it? If you’re so keen or returning back to the dock, then I suggest you start swimming while the dock is still in view. If not, shut up and get back to work” “It’s Allan, sir. We don’t have a Jacob on board. And duly noted, sir,” the boy said drily before walking away. This was the problem with hiring rich kids to man his ship, they were painfully entitled and brimming with sass. Though he’d rather have spoiled brats on board rather than savages ready to slit his throat for an extra coin in their pockets.  Sighing, he looked out to the vast ocean ahead of him, how the early morning sun was reflected on the water, shining in a glorious golden; its own treasure. The seas will be tame, he reckoned. After all, it was mid-year, a time where the sky was bluer with barely any clouds to be seen. A time where the wind blew south and death by the sea was unheard of. As a result, many traveled during this season, a crucial factor in his hunt for treasure. There were also dozens of other boats around his ship, much smaller in comparison that he barely noticed them. His grand ship casted shadows upon them as it passed, causing the fishermen to look up in awe. Many of them recognized him immediately and began waving, showing their hairy underarms and sweaty palms from hard labor. Some even pointed at the front of the ship as though it was the most shocking thing they've ever seen.  He didn’t bother acknowledging them. He was from a different status, no gain in being friendly to those far beneath him. Instead he kept his eyes ahead, to the long gruesome journey awaiting his crew. But the reward will be worth it, they’ll arrive in Southern Canoi, a jungle left untouched by the developing country of Canoiha. Known for its riches and hidden treasures, many have embarked on countless journeys into the mysterious woods only to be lost without a trace. Of course, he understood the dangers, but time and time again he and his crew traveled to wild lands and came out of them unscathed. Dumb luck or skill, he preferred to think that it was the later. After all, he reckoned that no other man could pull off stunts quite remarkably as he did. For years he would travel to foreign lands with his crew to seek riches; that much was clear to the media. He gained a reputation from being able to discover hidden treasures; if only they knew it was sacred pieces stolen by a calculated man's heist, perhaps they'd call him the Scavenger with more disdain. Closing his eyes, he let the ocean speak to him, to lose himself in its grandeur. The sounds were familiar, waves crashing against the bottom of the ship, pesky squawks from seagulls and the light chatter among his crew. But there was one particular noise that made his ears perk.  “Pssssssstt!” Were the oceans hissing at him? “Over here!” Frowning, he inched closer to the edge of the ship’s forepeak. “Help me!” Leaning on the railing, he peered down at the ship’s figurehead, a lovely edition to his ship which made him love it all the more. The figurehead was a structure of an angel with an arm extended to point at the direction ahead of the vessel, it served as a metaphor of a guardian angel guiding them towards the right path, or something like that, he just thought that the figurehead would look attractive on his boat. But at that moment, the figurehead brought something else to him, something in the form of a pesky petite girl, hanging onto its extended arm for her dear life.  He stumbled back, shock freezing his veins causing him to turn pale. But the ice he felt in his body immediately vanished when realization kicked in and rage boiled his blood. “You imbecile! Get off my ship!” She had the audacity to give him an annoyed stare, “I can’t!” “You’re going to damage my ship!” he groaned, flailing his arms at her as an attempt to make her let go of the figurehead. But it was no use, she was out of his reach. “If you throw me off, I’m taking this arm with me,” she said, tightening her grip on the figurehead’s arm while her legs dangle dangerously on air. Inhaling deeply, he thought things through. If he forced her off his ship and she actually broke the figurehead’s arm, he’d have to deal with the superstitious fools onboard who’d be convinced that they are doomed without the “Angel’s Guidance”. The captain will be persuaded by the majority to turn back and he’d have to wait till the figurehead’s fix to embark on his journey. He blew out an impatient sight. “Fine,” he grumbled, taking a rope nearby and throwing it to her direction, “Grab it.” She fumbled slightly, changing her grip from the figurehead’s arm and onto the rope. There was a small spark of hope in his heart that she would slip and fall in the process, but she clung onto the rope, looking straight at him with determination burning in her eyes. Rolling his eyes inwardly, he pulled the rope up slowly only to yank it at the last minute causing her to fall face-flat onto the floorboards with a loud thud.  “And they call you a gentleman,” she grumbled, dusting herself as she stood up. “Only towards a lady which you clearly are not.” She opened her mouth before quickly closing it. With a forced smile, she batted her eyelashes at him, “So can I work here?” “Men only.” “But you said that I’m not a lady.” He clenched his fist, contemplating if it was ethical to scoop her up and throw her off board. She could survive, he reasoned, with all that wit and stubbornness she would find her way back to shore and he wouldn't have to deal with the guilt of murder.  “You just have no use for me,” he said, hoisting her up and throwing her over his shoulders. Yes, if pirates had the right to throw people off their ships, he decided that he did too. A piercing scream rang in his ears, “Put me down you arse!” “Look, I warned you. Don’t tr-” “Cous,” Ron interrupted them.  With the pesky girl still struggling on his shoulders, he said, “What? I’m busy.” Ron eyed the two wearily, but instead of commenting on the situation, he said, “The Captain’s turning the ship, he refuses to continue on with a hole left unchecked.” A throaty groan escaped him, he did not want to waste his precious time for such mild issues. He had a plan set, a plan which even his crew had no idea about. He would have to arrive in Southern Canoi as soon as possible, lay out the surroundings and plan his robbery on the Chief who was visiting for a short while. Timing was very crucial. He also didn’t want to risk gaining the media’s attention. “It’s just a small hole. Can’t someone fix it here?” he asked. “None of our men are flexible enough,” Ron shrugged.  “I can do it,” the girl said, slipping out of his grip and landing gracefully on her feet. “I’m from the circus, so I’m quite flexible.” He snickered, “From the circus, huh? That explains it.”  “I’ll prove myself useful," she said through gritted teeth. “Fine, if you can fix the hole you can stay,” he sighed. She grinned from ear to ear, her excitement radiating that of a puppy after receiving a treat. *** Laughing, Pete put his arms on his hips and faced 16 of his men who came to spectate. “You call that a hole? I’ve seen women with bi-” His sentence was cut short by a sharp slap at the back of the head by his cousin. These men were too noble for their own good, their eyes already eyeing him wearily for his vulgar choice of humor.  Rubbing his head, he glared at Ron but didn’t bother to say anything. They all stood at the west wing of the ship where the supposed “hole” was located. It looked more like a small c***k between the wood, barely 2 inch in size. It was about 30 meters above sea level and 20 meters away from the top of the ship. Below, waves were crashing angrily onto the ship, creating loud splashes against the wood. He expected the girl to back down, but she remained calm with a thick rope wrapped around her waist, hugging her figure. Ron passed her a fistful of a cotton-like ball. “Use this to patch up the c***k, once it makes contact with water it will expand and harden.” “Those fibers are from a rare tree so you better not drop it,” Pete said, crossing his arms. She climbed onto the railing, her back facing the ocean. She grinned at Pete, “I won’t.” Without a word, she dropped down, causing his heart to stop momentarily. Everyone rushed to the edge of the railing to get a closer look. There she was, dangling gracefully with only a rope holding her from the deep ocean below. She repositioned herself, hanging horizontally as she stuffed the fibers into the cracks with ease. Within less than a minute, she tugged on the rope, signaling for them to pull her back up. The crew gave each other looks, impressed by the small girl’s agility.  They yanked the rope and she landed elegantly in front of them with her hands up in the air as though she just finished a performance.  Her eyes met his, and with a triumph smile she said, “Looking forward to working with you, sir.”