Sea Bound

Consciousness comes to me slowly, my thoughts drifting on a steady wind. The soft tang of salt in the air is soothing, and the calming sway of the ship beneath me almost lulls me back to sleep. It isn’t until the pain sets in that reality comes crashing down. I groan and roll onto my back, causing a rush of pain to run down my arm with the release of pressure.  “Ah, f**k!” My eyes snap open and I grasp my arm with my free hand, taking steady breaths.  I can see the ceiling above me. No - not a ceiling. It’s the upper deck. But something about it seems… off.  The wood is light, pale, perfectly polished and without a single blemish. Much different to the stained, chipped wood of my own hobbled ship.  Thinking of it… it doesn’t smell like piss or dried rum, either.  This isn’t my ship. No sooner had the realisation passed through my mind that I hear the deciding rattle and click of a lock. I scramble to my feet, glancing around me quickly. I notice that three sides of my vision are impared by thick iron bars. The bow of the ship is to my back, with the small looking hole also barred.  I’m trapped in a brig that I don’t recognise.  I can barely see anything besides the shadows being cast by a candle somewhere to my left.  There are more cells lining the sides of the ship, but mine is the only one occupied. I frown, biting the inside of my lip but am stopped as a sharp sting meets my teeth. My hand comes up to my lip and I feel the split skin.  “...yes, I’ll find out… don’t be stupid, what will he do? He’s in a cage.” The muffled voice is getting closer, echoed with laughter. I frown.  How had it come to this? Simple.  The greed of gold is blinding.  There’s a resounding click and light is suddenly pouring into the room. I wince and turn away, feeling the beating of drums behind my eyelids. My frown tugs the skin of my forehead, and I reach up to feel it’s crusted with blood.  Ah, that's right. Some bastard hit me in the face with the hilt of a sword. Anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach.  I turn on my heel to see a figure approaching the cage. It’s hard to make out details until he’s just behind the bars, and I feel my eyes widen in surprise despite myself.  My, my, my. Hello, handsome.  The man before me is tall, at least six feet. He stands straight, wearing the familiar dark blue jacket of the Imperial Navy. I let my eyes run down his body, over the white shirt poking out of his cuffs. Tight black trousers, and knee high black boots. The clothes do nothing to hide his broad shoulders and bulging biceps.  “I take it you know where you are, pirate?” I feel something flicker in the pit of my stomach as his deep voice fills the brig. His accent is clipped and precise, immediately giving away his place of origin. I cluck my tongue, simmering on the way he spat out 'pirate'. “At a guess… I would say that I’m now a welcomed passenger aboard the Lady Nightingale.” The stranger scoffs and rolls his eyes.  “Yes, you are aboard my vessel. But you are certainly not welcome.” “Oh… I don’t know…”  I let the words hang on my tongue, moving over to the bars and leaning against them, locking eyes with the handsome stranger.  “I have a few ways of making myself feel welcomed.” His eyes widen and I see just how stunningly blue they are. They dart around, seemingly picking up on my suggestive body language. He sputters and steps back, clearing his throat.  Aww, those Imperial sensibilities are just adorable. “I - I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but - I can assure you that I am not interested.” I sigh heavily.  “Then this is going to be a very boring imprisonment.” The stranger snaps his mouth shut with such force that I hear his teeth click.  Clearly the man won’t be too hard to aggravate, which will give me a little entertainment while I wait for my impending execution.  Because that’s what they’ll do. No doubt this captain is taking me to the Capital to have me strung up and left to rot.  I realise that I have been silent for too long, and the stranger had the chance to regain his confidence.  “What is your name?”  His voice is demanding and my body straightens instinctively. The man is clearly used to giving orders, but even with that firm jaw and sculpted cheekbones - he’s young.  Still… I wouldn’t mind a few more orders like that thrown my way.  “What do you want it to be? From the look of you… I would say you’re a very proper gentleman.” There is a flash of something sharp in the depth of those deep eyes, and I find myself smirking. Confusion? Some. Curiosity? Mounds. Anger?  Oh, lots and lots.  The man sighs heavily, seeming to deflate. I watch, curious, trying to figure out what he was battling internally. He lowers his head, breathing slowly, but when he snaps his head back up, there’s a wicked grin on his face.  It should be unnerving, but instead it lights a burning intrigue throughout my body.  The man laughs, his shoulders slumping a little as he reaches up and pops the top two buttons of his shirt. He sighs again, and all I can do is look on as the man leans his back against the bars of the opposite cage. The straight-laced Imperial is gone, and in his stead is someone new and exciting.  “Should have known the Imperial approach wouldn’t work on you, Captain Black.” I hide my surprise by c*****g an eyebrow, looking the man over. Is he not an Imperial? Or is this actually an interesting Imperial navy man? “If you already know who I am, then why ask me?”  I keep my voice steady, bored even. No sense in flaunting my curiosity and giving this man the upper hand. He’s still my captor, after all.  “Why not? I could have gotten lucky, I suppose.”  I let out a snort, shaking my head. My bemused smile is mirrored by the stranger, which suits him a lot more than the stoic soldier he had been before.  I move forward, slotting my arms through the bars and leaning on the support bar that went around the middle.  “So, who am I talking to? An Imperial Navy man, or an imposter?” The man’s eyes flicker back up to me, that amused smile still plastered on his face.  “My name is Alexander Williams, and I am the Captain of this naval vessel.” For a moment, my heart sinks. Part of me had hoped this was all an elaborate joke, but the distant echo of cannons soaring through the air and splintering my ship to pieces is far too real.  Something must be showing on my face, because this Alexander smirks wickedly and I bristle.  “Not quite so proud now, are we?” I want to scream obscenities, to threaten him with the pain of a very long and arduous death. But I’m in a cage, and he is in control. For now.  I push myself off the front of the cage and walk slowly to the back, leaning on my side. I spread my fingers and look at my nails.  “Oh… I don’t know. Day’s young. Could find something to be proud of yet.” The man snickers, and I hear the distinctive scrape of something being unscrewed. Glancing up I watch as the Imperial Captain holds up a silver flask.  My silver flask. My initials are engraved in flowing script on the front.  My lip curls, but the man only raises the flask in salute before taking a long, steady pull. I half expect him to splutter or cough, but as he pulls it away, he hisses sharply and bites his lip.  The gesture is incredibly attractive, especially with those plump lips of his. “So, I came down here to inform you that whoever of your crew remains has been handed over to our sister ship. They’ll be taken to port and tried, and no doubt hung for piracy.” A satisfied smile spreads over those features, and I find my anger mingling with some kind of heat.  The man is baiting me, I know that much. Why else would he drink from a pirate’s flask? He’s flaunting his victory over me, hurling insults at him will do nothing but solidify his expectations.  Not that I care about his misconceptions, but I refuse to allow myself to be predictable.  So instead I give him a sweet, innocent smile. I see a brief hesitation in his movements.  “Shame.” I shrug and crack a forced yawn, but not before I see the man in front of me bristle. It was subtle - the narrowing of his eyes, the clenching of his jaw.  Ha, I knew it would get to him.  He holds my eyes for a few, heavy moments. I know that he is trying to find truth - but truth is whatever I believe it is, and I believe in the words I say. Whether I mean them is another thing entirely.  Finally, his face breaks into another smirk. “I can see that you’re going to need a bit longer to sit here and think about what you’ve done. I shall be up on the deck, enjoying some rather fine rum we… confiscated from your ship.” He isn’t very subtle, but his mocking still drives home my anger. I give him a biting smirk, laced with malice. It doesn’t seem to bother him as he laughs and turns, heading to the door.  “Oh, by the way…” He turns back around, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small silver watch by the chain and letting it hang by the chain caught between his fingers. I can’t help it. My eyes widen. My hand immediately goes to my chest, to the pocket where the watch should be. All I feel is the damp material of my shirt.  Alexander hums, raising the watch and letting it swing from the chain.  “I found this on you, and my first thought was ‘what could he possibly want with something so old and valueless?’ And then I realised… sentiment. So thank you for proving me right. I believe I shall keep this, until something more interesting peaks my fancy.” He chuckles cockily before he turns and leaves me once again in the darkness of the cells.  Alone, my anger bubbles over, and I let out a cry of frustration. I shake the bars, kick over the pathetic little cot in the corner. I throw the small tankard of water through the bars over the looking-hole, feeling a little satisfied at the plop it makes when it hits the sea.  Spent, exhausted, and now thirsty, I move to the center of the cell before landing heavily on the floor. Crossing my legs and putting my hands on my knees, I straighten my back and close my eyes, taking in long breaths through my nose and releasing them through my lips.  I need to think.  I take a mental inventory. They have taken my long jacket, my black leather vest, my pistols, my holders and my cutlass. They’ve taken most of my rings, bracelets and even my long-chained neck pendant.  True, they’re all stolen and probably expensive. But Imperials are honourable and through that - clueless.  I smirk as I open my eyes, bringing up my left hand. On my third finger, my wedding finger as it is, sits a plain gold band.  Imperials and their proprieties.  I yank the band from my finger. The metal is flimsy and thin, perfect for what I need it for. Sitting still, I squeeze the band until it’s pointed, before beginning to bite through the metal.                                                                                              ~ I’m not sure how long I work on the ring. Long enough for the faint light to fade through the looking-hole in my cell. The sea is calm, with moonlight beginning to cast shadows against the ship.  No one has come to check on me in hours.  Helpful for me, but also very careless on their part. I’ve been listening to the ruckus above, smirking as the navy men got louder and more boisterous.  “Imperials and their rum,” I mutter to myself. “Light-weights.” I make some kind of triumphant sound as the gold band finally gives and I’m able to straighten it out into a long metal pick. Curving the end before I put it safely up my sleeve. All I have to do now is wait. They’ll drink themselves unconscious at some point, so I push myself back until I’m leaning against the ship.  I’ve just gotten comfy, with one leg up and one flat, and my still sore arm resting on my knee. I lean back my head, intending to doze for a little while. But it seems this isn’t the case.  “Resigned to your fate then, have you?” I don’t jump, jolt, gasp or even move at his sudden voice. Instead I crack one eye open and look over. He hadn’t made a sound coming in this time, even though he looks a little worse for wear.  The heavy, gilded blue jacket is gone, revealing the plain white shirt underneath. It’s loose on the arms and tight at the wrists, and made of thin material. Muslin, probably.  The strings over the chest are undone, revealing the smooth skin underneath. The shirt is tucked into his fine dark brown breeches, and without the long coat covering him, I can see a generous bulge.  I snicker to myself before turning my head straight again and closing my eyes.  “Biding my time.” I keep my voice innocent and sleepy, hoping to irk the Imperial even more.  He just barks out a laugh. I’m glad of the shadows of the moon, so he doesn’t see my lips purse.  “My, you are a cocky one.” There’s a more jovial note to his voice and I turn my head, curious. He’s dressed down, yes, but his demeanour is also different. His shoulders aren’t so tense, his back not so ram-rod straight.  He seems more relaxed, even as he walks off. I frown, wondering what these tactics are supposed to be just as he returns, dragging a chair behind him.  In the faint light, I notice a flush to his cheeks. Ah, the rum then.  He takes a seat before reaching down, picking up something from the floor.  My eyes instantly lock on to the bowl in his hand, watching as the steam rose from it. The hearty tang of meat wafts through the air, and before I can even turn away, my stomach howls. Alexander smiles, staying where he is and letting the stew hover between us.  He holds it out long enough for me to wonder if it is actually for me. My eyes flicker up to his, to that annoying f*****g smile, before back to the stew.  But just as I tense to move, Alexander cackles and leans back, bringing the stew with him. He begins to slurp at it and I scowl, shoving myself back against the hard wood and closing my eyes.  The sound of his chewing and slurping fills the brig, along with loud, obnoxious groans. I know he’s making a show of it, and despite myself, my hands start to clench.  “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” I snap.  The scraping of the spoon against the bottom of the bowl stops momentarily, before it continues with renewed vigour.  “Thought you would be used to sloppy eaters, considering the company you keep.” I huff out my annoyance, turning a glare to him.  “My men had far more manners than you, Imperial.” “Oh, I doubt that. Call a pirate what you like, but at the end of the day they are nothing but savage beasts.” I roll my eyes.  “Says you, the captor who denies his prisoner food or water.” Alexander clucks his tongue.  “You had water, not my fault if you drank it so fast. And many a man have survived more than one day without food. You’ll live.” I’m beginning to tire of his mocking.  “Pray do tell what honours me with your visit.”  I make sure my words are laced with sarcasm and founded in steel.  Alexander scoops up one last spoonful of the stew, shoving it into his mouth and sighing heartily.  “Whilst I was looking through your quarters, I found something rather interesting.” He leans forwards on his knees, splaying his palms out.  I snort.  “I bet you did.” Aside from jewels and paintings and fine clothes, there was also a cache of realistic sketches. Sometimes, I enjoy sketching what I see. And I see a lot.  I glance up to see a frown crease Alexander’s brow for a brief second, before he becomes the smug Imperial Captain once again.  “It was a rather plain, unimportant book upon your shelves, actually.” My body snaps taught, and I turn my head sharply to look at him.  “You won’t decipher it.” Alexander smirks.  “You underestimate me, young Captain.” He chuckles and picks up the stew bowl before giving me one last wicked smile. Then he’s sauntering from the brig, leaving me once again blanketed in darkness. My fingers reach into my sleeve and I run my hand over the make-shift pick. A few more hours. That’s all I have to wait.  A few more hours and I can wipe that smug smile from that bastard’s glorious face.                                                                                      ~ Alexander It’s hard to contain myself. Who could blame me, really? Catching Black is going to be the turn my career needs. Admittedly, Black isn’t the most nefarious pirate out there, but his name is known amongst the Imperial Hierarchy. He’s caused some damage, and from what I’ve heard, he’s a rather slippery bastard.  They didn’t, however, say just quite how young he is. He can’t be much older than twenty-five, and already he has a ship and crew? I laugh to myself. Had a ship and crew.  There are rumours, of course, that he started a mutiny and took the helm. Speculation and gossip, but talking with him makes me think that maybe… it has some merit.  I’m nearly skipping across the deck, smiling at my crew as they enjoy the fine rum and food from Black’s ship. They deserve it. Waiting behind that island in ambush had taken three days. Three days of nothing. I was just about to give up hope when I saw that the pirate had taken our bait. Black followed our decoy merchant vessel right into our cannonfire, and the rest was easy.  I chuckle merrily to myself, accepting a tankard handed to me by one of my crew before heading toward the Captain’s Quarters.  In the privacy of my own room, I feel my shoulders deflate as I sit in my plush chair in front of my large, heavy desk. Black’s book is laid out in front of me and I snicker at it. How predictable pirates could be.  The book is plain, nothing of importance, which made it the best find in the ship. I drink heartily from the tankard before flipping the cover open.  I was right. This is his ledger.  Numbers and names, locations and gold trails. It’s all there.  I laugh loudly, skimming over page after page. Every piece of gold the pirate has ever stolen. Every place it has been spent. All here in beautiful, flowing script. I can put him away for a long time for this. Well, I could have him hung the moment his foot lands on Imperial shores.  As I come towards the back of the ledger, I notice that the numbers start to change. Line after line, almost exactly the same. Three different numbers, one after the other. It makes little to no sense. I see names written at the top of pages. Bane. Jones. Griever. Morgan. Reid. On and on it goes.  I c**k my head. And then it dawns on me. They’re surnames. Surnames of every wanted pirate in the Imperial seas. My eyes widen. Forget Black, this book is an absolute goldmine. I lean over the book, pouring over the numbers, willing them to make sense. I take some parchment and my quill, scribbling out every kind of mathematical equation I can think of.  It’s hours before I finally shove the paper aside, defeated. Black had been right. There’s no possible way I can decode this, not without the cipher. And the pirate in my hold is the only one who knows what the cipher is. I grind my teeth, but exhaustion swells within me. Come morning, I’ll start on the pirate again. I’ll try diplomacy, appeal to his sense of honour. If that doesn’t work, I’ll have to try more unsavoury methods.  My mind falls back to the image of the pirate as he leaned against the bar. His shirt was open, his eyes hooded. Very unusual for a man to be so salacious to another, but then again, there are more rumours I know of the pirate. Rumours that, albeit were rather imaginable, might prove to work in my favour.  I smile to myself as I ready for bed. This could certainly be interesting.