Sea Bound

Rat-House and Watered Swill

I rub my hands together anxiously, watching as the little speck in the distance draws closer and closer. 

I’m perched on what’s left of the rail around the quarter deck, one hand wrapped in the rigging, helping to steady the sail and keep our course. The crew are below me, beating the s**t out of each other. 

Well, they’re throwing punches at each other. But this is part of the plan. 

One of the pirates stands in front of another, slapping his chest and letting out some kind of barbaric warbling sound. They’re all crowded around each other, some bleeding, some missing teeth. Some of them already have black eyes coming through. 

I roll my eyes as the pirate gets a punch to the face, but then I wince as I hear a small crack. Probably a broken nose. 

They go up in cheers again, before the next unblemished pirate replaces him. 

Soon, they’re all looking pretty battered. Sam turns to me from the middle of the rabble, lifting up a thumb. I nod, pulling hard on the rigging before I secure it against the gunwharf. The men are now going about the ship, ripping off pieces of wood, kicking holes into the deck. 

I can see Sam watching over them, and I hope he has the sense to stop them before they sink my ship. 

To be fair, they don’t have to cause much damage to make the schooner look battered. It’s a piece of s**t anyway. But it has to be believable. 

Not that I don’t enjoy watching my crew tear each other apart - but there is a method to my madness. I walk back into my small cabin and sink into my chair, kicking my feet onto the desk. In the silence, I run through my plan again. 

The island is only about an hour out. There’s nothing particularly suspicious about our haul - just herbs and spices. We can use them to barter with. I’m just hoping that whoever we meet are gracious enough to bestow some mercy. I bite my lower lip, reaching forward for the near-empty bottle of rum on my desk. It’s enough to blaze a trail down my throat, a little liquid courage before what is no doubt going to be my best performance yet. 

“Cap! We’re coming in fast!”

I glance up as Sam’s voice travels across the deck and into my little cabin. With a long, steadying breath, I get to my feet. Show time. 

---

“There’s nothin’ here for ya boys, am sorry.”

I swallow thickly and pull my lower lip between my teeth, turning my head to glance at the roughened crew to my back. 

They’re looking down at their feet, battered and bruised. Sam’s eyes are wide and pitiful as he looks at me - desperate. Part of me wants to tip my hat to the man. Despite his lack of intelligence, he isn’t a half-bad actor. 

“Please,” I mumble, turning back to the burly woman. She stands behind a chipped, feeble counter, her dress patched and stained. Her hair is pulled tight, but strands poke out from her temples in tribute to the back-breaking work she’s obviously used to. Her sleeves are rolled to her elbows and her arms are dusted with muck and bruises, but she doesn’t seem to even notice them. 

Lord only knows how much work it takes to keep this rickety inn upright. 

The island we approached from the west is barely big enough for the inn it occupies. There’s a handful of houses and one farm, from what I could see on the Crow’s Nest. No wonder it’s not even a speck on the map. 

Her face is hard and worn, but her brown eyes are softening to our plight. I can see she’s not used to many guests, and she’s probably already thinking how much it’ll be to keep me and my men fed while we ‘repair’ our ship. 

“I ain’t heard of pirates ‘round these parts,” she says after a moment, her lips a thin line as she looks over us once again. I let out a small bark of bitter laughter, before I cast my eyes downwards and bite the inside of my mouth. 

“No,” I reply slowly, my voice heavy and laced with barely resigned grief. “They’re not. Which is why Pa-” I suck in a breath and try to cover it with a cough. “Which is why we took this route. Some f*****g pirates chased us for miles, and we just… we just couldn't get the speed. They-”

I turn my head away from her, facing Sam. He’s watching me with an impressive pout, while the others thankfully keep their heads down. If they can’t act like the desolate sailors they’re supposed to be, then they keep their f*****g heads down. 

Sam reaches out and grasps my shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. He leans a little closer, speaking quietly as though the words are only for me. It’s still loud enough for the innkeeper to hear, though. 

“Ya Pa’s a good man. I’ll miss ‘im.”

I sniff quietly and purse my lips, avoiding Sam’s eyes lest the man make me laugh. I clear my throat again before turning back to the woman. 

Her stance has changed. Whereas before she had her arms folded over her bust and a scowl on her face - now she’s leaning forward on the counter and her eyes are roaming over me. 

“Please, miss,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “We just lost good men, my Pa… we’re all that’s left. We - we’ve got a couple of crates left, some tumeric and dried basil. You can have it all, and we’ll help you with whatever you need while we’re here. Just a few weeks is all we’re asking.”

I raise my eyes, glad that I could feel them prickling with hot tears. Her jaw tenses but her shoulders slump, and I know I’ve got her. She scoffs before she waves her hand, reaching down for a cloth. 

“Right well, this ain’t no fancy inn from the Capitol. You’ll work ‘ard and you’ll work long. I got plenty for you and ya lads to do. How many can ya spare?”

My face lights up at her words, my smile bright and hopeful. I see the side-glance she gives me, and the slight quirk of her lips. I know I’m adorable when I need to be, and for once looking like a twelve-year-old is in my favour. 

“I can give you all but three,” I say quickly, turning around and gesturing to three random guys from my crew. “These three are the best carpenters and stitchers we’ve got. They’ll get the ship fixed and the rest of us can help you, with whatever you need. We’ll work hard, miss, I promise.”

She hums and raises a doubtful eyebrow. “Well, we’ll ‘av to see won’t we? Get on, then. There’s wood to be chopped out back and I’ll need some of ya to help me make dinner.”

The crew stand to attention as she speaks and I turn on my heel. 

With practised ease and random names that come to mind (haven’t quite memorised my own crew yet), I get the boys ready and separated. The three I’d pointed out before follow me from the small inn until we’re far enough away to be out of earshot. 

“Go to the ship, make it look like you’re working hard. Don’t go getting pissed and rowdy, understood?”

The three men nod, surprisingly optimistic, and I give them a sharp nod in turn. I leave them to walk the treacherous little pathway down the hill and towards the beach where my little piece of shite rocks gently in the waves. 

The rest of us get to work. There’s a few hours of daylight left, and the innkeeper - Bonnie - hadn’t been joking when she said she had work for us to do. 

The roof needs to be re-shingled, the outhouse needs to be completely re-built. The well is leaking, the bar counter needs to be completely re-done. 

I see the looks my crew gives me as Bonnie lists all this off, and I know we’ve got a few weeks work here. 

Which is good, because I need time to work her. She’s got the look of a woman not to be messed with, and has probably dealt with her share of liars and thieves. Not that I want anything from her personally - she can keep her rat-house and watered-down swill. I want information. I want the ship that’s hidden somewhere in this God-forsaken rock. 

She knows where it is, too, because she’s awfully cagey about anything I ask her. She’s also harbouring a lot of distrust, so I imagine the Imperials are paying handsomely for her silence. 

But I keep trying. 

We work our hands to the bone, each and every day until there’s blisters on my blisters and my men look like they’re going to burn the place to the ground. All they’ve got to go on is my word and the promise of an Imperial ship. 

I keep my eyes open, but the only clue that there’s something on the island is the late night wagon that leaves the farm just across from the inn every other night. I can see it from the window in my tiny little room (which I share with five others. The joy.). There’s enough grain on the wagon to feed a small army, so whoever’s hiding on the island has plenty of hungry bellies. 

It’s about a week and a half after we docked that I see the first real signs of danger from my crew. Two of them start brawling in the middle of dinner, over an extra slice of bread. Sam and I manage to separate them before they cause any damage and piss off Bonnie, but I can see the same anger mirrored in each of my men’s faces. I order them all to the ship, apologising to Bonnie on our way. 

As we stand on deck, I see them all watching me. Doubt is ebbing from their eyes and frustration radiating from their bones. 

“Ya said we would only be here a few days!” called someone from the back and I sigh, folding my arms over my chest. 

“And we’ve been here for ten,” I counter, but it’s obviously not good enough. Our bruises are starting to heal, and our ship is actually starting to look half-decent. Ironically, the three I put on fixing the ship are actually quite talented, and had decided to fix the schooner up in their boredom. 

A few more shouts and outraged agreements are sent my way, and I know there’s only so long I can keep them working for nothing. As they start to get louder, I raise my hand. They still, but only just, watching me with narrowed eyes. Sam is standing by my side, but I’m still not sure how far his loyalty goes yet. 

“I’ve seen wagons leaving the farm in the middle of the night, every other night. The next one is due to leave tomorrow. Sam and I will follow it, scout out where it’s going and what it’s doing. Depending on what we find, we’ll either plan an attack or leave, and I’ll pay you either way.”

There’s silence following my words as the rough men look from me to each other to their feet and back. On a different day, it would be quite entertaining to watch their little wheels turning, but today it’s tense. 

I cluck my tongue after another minute of silence, before gesturing with my arms for an answer. A couple of them from the front nod their heads, and the others begrudgingly follow suit. I dismiss them with a nod, and they disembark, still grumbling to each other. 

Once it’s just Sam and I standing on deck, I sigh heavily and rub my face. I notice the Quartermaster watching me steadily, and I lean my back against the quarter deck before I face him. 

“What?”

“Ya reckon there’s really a ship here, Cap?”

I blow a hard breath between my lips. I had thought so, I’d been sure. But the longer we work, with no Imperials making an appearance, the more I’m doubting myself. I should have followed the wagon the first time I saw it leave, but there was too much distrust. Bonnie watched us like a hawk for the first few days, and no doubt she had other eyes doing the same thing. 

“I reckon there’s something,” I say after a moment, rolling my shoulders and straightening myself up. “I’m hoping it’s a f*****g ship.”

---

To my surprise, we don’t even have to wait until the next night. As we sit in the faint morning sun, gathered around a couple of tables and eating our stale rye-bread and plain oats, three unfamiliar men walk into the inn. 

They stand there for a few long moments, watching us. It isn’t hard to see that they’re navy men, born and bred. It’s in the way they hold themselves, with the arrogantly raised chins and disdainful upper-class eyes. It doesn’t matter that they’re wearing casual clothing - the uniform is visible in the way they walk.

I chew thoughtfully on my bread as I watch them slowly enter, still watching us with barely suppressed disdain. I gesture subtly at my men to ignore them, and we continue to eat our food as though there isn’t a tense silence now filling the air. 

The three men approach the counter, where Bonnie is standing. Her face is level and measured, but her whole body is tense. I can see something akin to fear in her eyes, but she dresses it as respect. 

The taller man speaks quietly to her, while the other two turn and continue to watch the rest of us. So the tall man is in charge, then. 

Bonnie nods at something before she gestures for the leader to follow her, and the two of them disappear through a door behind the counter. 

The men left guarding us are making my men uncomfortable, and I slowly reach out to take the bread knife sitting on top of the table. I don’t trust them to not do something stupid. 

Even though we could all easily overpower three Imperials - I have no idea how many more there are. And I won’t let my i***t crew ruin my chances at a new ship. 

Thankfully, the guards don’t seem to notice, instead they lean close to each other and whisper whilst keeping eye contact. My jaw tightens and my knuckles hold the handle of the knife harder against my lap. If they decide to look too closely…

“Who’s the leader?”

All eyes turn upwards to the stern man that had led the small group and where he has reappeared behind the counter. The room is deathly quiet and my eyes widen as though I’d forgotten it was supposed to be me.

“Uh, it’s m-me, sir,” I stammer, getting to my feet and keeping my eyes down. There’s a snort of laughter from one of the guards but it’s quickly stopped. 

“You?” asked the commanding Imperial, his tone incredulous. 

I swallow thickly and shift from foot to foot, glancing up as much as I dare. 

“Y-yes sir. My Pa… my father was the captain, and he ah, he d-didn’t make it through the attack.”

I hear the heavy steps of rough boots walkling deliberately towards me, and I can feel the strength and heat radiating from the commanding man before me. I feel his eyes on me and I tense my shoulders, but quickly release them. 

“How old are you, boy?”

I lick my lower lip. “Twenty, sir.”

“Barely a man.”

I wince as one of the unfamiliar guards chuckles heartily. 

“Looks more like a woman.”

The commanding officer turns his body slightly and I chance a look up, catching the way he’s staring at his subordinate. Because from the way the guard’s face pales, he can’t have been anything else. 

“Apologies, son,” says the officer, and my eyes catch his. 

His face is stern and sun-bleached, but he has the rugged edge of a man who has spent more of his life on the water than the ground. His hair is light, dusted with silver, and at a guess I would say he’s in his mid-forties. So gauging that, he’ll be pretty high up in the Imperial Navy. Admiral at least. 

“What’s your name, lad?” he asks me gently, but with an iron edge that brokered nothing but the truth. I clear my throat and try to hold myself straighter. 

“Hamish Morrison, sir.”

The man nods. 

“You’re a merchant ship?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not many merchants know this route, son.”

I nod my head, shifting under his scrutiny. 

“We heard about all the p - pirate captures along the main routes, sir. My Pa wanted to try safer waters and… well…”

I tense my jaw and cast my eyes down, clearing my throat to keep the emotion from it. I feel his eyes still on me, and I have to resist the urge to check that my crew are suitably devastated that my dear ol’ paps perished. 

“Well, I’m sorry for your loss, lad. I’m sure the Heavenly King welcomes him gladly on the Endless Seas.”

Oh, deary-dear. Just my luck to find a devout Imperial. I nearly have a nosebleed from the effort it takes to stop myself rolling my eyes. 

Instead I smile faintly, nod my head, before bowing it respectfully. 

“Since you and your boys are stuck here while you repair, it so happens that I’m in need of some assistance myself.”

I glance up again, feeling a ripple of excitement run through the crew scattered about us, watching our exchange hungrily. 

“Sir?”

The man smiles at me before gesturing his head to the far corner. I frown, but follow him out of earshot. From the way his amber eyes radiate warmth, he seems to have taken me for my word. 

“Listen boy, we’re in need of help and we need able-bodied men with skills and experience. Gather five of your most skilled, most trusted men, finish your breakfast and walk a half mile east. We’ll be waiting for you. There’s handsome pay, and the chance to get into my good graces.”

His words are weighty. I don’t doubt that a favour from this man could go pretty f*****g far. I open and close my mouth, my eyes wide even as I nod my understanding. He smiles at me again and claps me on the shoulder, before walking out of the inn with his two snide guards following suit. 

I stand there for a few moments, stunned at my luck, before Sam is catching my eye. I walk over to him quickly and take a seat. All eyes are on me, and I gesture for the crew to wait. 

As I grab another chunk of bread to occupy my hands, I turn to Sam with a barely concealed smirk. 

“I think they want us to work on the ship.”

Sam’s eyes widen and I lurch out my foot, catching him smartly on the shin before he can make a bloody scene. 

“Shut the f**k up,” I hiss, glancing around to see Bonnie preoccupied with a couple of my crew at the far end of the inn.

“Get four men that are least likely to stab an Imperial in the face and meet me out back. I’m going to my cabin for my pistol.” I can’t help myself, flashing Sam a smug, excited grin. 

“Told you it was worth the wait.”

Sam snorts before he waves me off. I hear him calling out a few names before I’m practically skipping down the path and back to my schooner. 

A good day, I decide. 

It’s going to be a good day.