Black Sea

Chapter 11

Shon started walking his way around the deck, collecting all the tools he possibly needed. Tim and I kept an eye on him from inside my sleeping quarter, our bodies hidden in the shadows. A whistled, familiar melody from last night came from my right, Tim's fingers tapping with the rhythm on his thigh. I stood in absolute silence, eyebrows furrowed together at the thought of being fooled by a teen. If I wasn't careful enough in similar situations, the results could be catastrophic, even fatal.

“Just to think that I got in a fight with Anne for a pig doctor,” I scoffed as he walked back inside, placing his tools beside my hammock. He didn't seem to care that much about my comments after all.

“Anne Bonney? Oh, don't trust her that much,” Tim got serious, his lips turning into a line as we twirled around facing Shon.

To that I was interested. I knew nothing about Anne despite her ability to rule over fifty men. She was a mystery and not one to be eager to solve, but just troubling me. Ruling was just easy for her. She talked and everybody simply listened, taking away any chance I had to do that myself. Anything that would help me change that, I wanted to know.

“Why, do you know anything about her?”

“Nah. Look she's good at what she's doing, but...” his eyes travelled away from me, the words hesitant to leave his mouth. “A small tip of survival: When things are being told about someone on a pirate ship, you might as well be cautious around them.”

“Who's Anne?”

We turned our heads to meet Shon, kneeled down and trying to achieve something with a thread and, to my dispair, a needle.

“Is she that red haired woman?” We didn't reply. “Oh, don't look at me like that. If I stay here, I need to survive.”

“How do you know her?” I took a sit on my hammock, watching him closely as he got up.

“She came here last night. Needed something about the boxes I think.”

I glanced at them on my right. Nothing seemed to have changed position or being removed. They simply stood there, not a single thing letting out a secret. The time before we spotted an English ship came back to me, the sound of coins inside them an intact memory. The mystery appeared again, the logical questions hovering inside my brain. Why would we risk our lives fighting England and living with small amount of food and water if right next to where I was sleeping she had placed boxes filled with coins.

“Was she alone?”

“No, with the Captain.”

My mouth opened to ask more, but I managed to shut it immediately. It was the perfect chance to learn about those boxes and their connection with Anne. However, Tim was right next to me. I could never trust someone not to spill anything to the rest of the crew about me asking questions. I tapped my foot on deck and looked down. Why did I have to be so unlucky?

The time of horror came soon after. Shon took a needle previously dove in rum, and came closer and closer to me. Everything around me moved in slow motion; the blinking of his eyes, his steps, my breathing, the blood staining me. Everything expect from my heart. Had I gone mad? Why did I accept an amateur practising on my bleeding hand?

I let out a breath which I probably held for a long time. Shon stopped and looked at me in confusion as Tim rolled his eyes.

“C'mon!”

I extended my hand, gesturing with my eyes at an almost emptied bottle lying on the ground.

“Give me the bottle.”

Alcohol, that would work. It would take away the pain. And my brain with it, but it was a necessary sacrifice. I didn't care at all about rational thinking, judgement and all those useless stuff. I wanted the wounds closed and healed, without any more pain. Tim dragged his feet to the door, handing me the bottle. I took a generous sip and faced Shon.

“Get done with it.”

The needle pierced my skin, the thread passing through it like a thin snake with bad plans. As Shon worked with his fingers, the pain worsened even more, a groan being impossible to keep for myself.

“Slow down dammit!”

He stopped, the wound half closen and blood still trailing down dangerously. Shon let out a breath which seemed to create the phrase ‘ohmygod’. He looked me in the eye, his patient fading away with each second.

“You told me to get done with it! Can't you just distract yourself a little?”

“Don't talk back to me, it's your fault! If you didn't lie in the first place-”

“I would be dead!”

The room silenced. My eyes targeted at Shon's which glowed with energy. I came to notice that I was arguing with a fourteen year old who had the nerve and brain to think of a plan that smart. A young person who was willing to do anything to survive and actually succeeded. Only then did his personality matched with the person I longed to forget; myself a few years back.

The needle continued uniting my flesh with that torturous way it did, pulling me out of my thoughts. Eyes shut tight, my fingers clenched around the fabric of the hammock, every muscle tensing at the pain.

“Zane, why don't you talk to us about Aeredale?” Tim tried to distract me. “Is a pretty lady waiting for you to pull her into your hug and promise her wealth through your dangerous adventures in the open sea?” His eyes laughing at me, as he sat on Anne's hammock as far away from the blood as possible.

“No,” I groaned.

“A pretty gentleman then?”

“What- No!”

“A goat?” He leaned forward, my eyes widened.

“Tim!”

He barked a laugh, leaning back and resting comfortably on the hammock. One foot hanging out of the fabric, swinging with the same rythm as Anne's hammock.

“I always had that question. Despite last night's fun, you don't strike me as the kind of person who seeks for money, just to waste them on a brothel. So, who are you collecting money for?”

I figured that the center of this man's attention was a dangerous place to be. Of course, his question was nothing more than a simple act of care, but it could ruin my plans if I wasn't careful enough. Luckily, just right then, the needle stopped playing circles on my skin.

“Done.”

I looked down at where his hands were. The cut was closed, my skin pulled together with the thread. Yet the pain didn't retrieve at all. He cleaned the with a fabric which stinked like alcohol, burning my flesh around the wound. I gritted my teeth together, filling myself with patience at the final strike of pain. Tim stepped warily in front, his eyes studying my bloodless hand.

“Huh,” he smiled again. “What kind of pigs did you practise on?”

As Shon started giggling, I got up to my feet and clapped my hands.

“Let's get back to our works, Tim. We wasted precious time.”

“Aye.”

“What about me?”

I peeked over my shoulder after Tim passed beside me. Shon stood still, holding inside his thin limbs the tools with which he healed me. His dark eyes looked at me deep in the eyes, nothing more there than just plain curiosity. His voice waiting for attention made me a mess. Really, what about him? He didn't deserve anything of that. Neither serving English lazy wankers, nor listening to any of the crews future orders. He was just a fourteen year old, seeking for a way out of the mountain of responsibilities he was born in.

Maybe I was only overcomplicating stuff. Maybe I just wanted to feel a connection to the things that brought back memories of home, including me. The real me. The one who didn't have muscular body and the strength to demand. The one who life gave nothing to, apart from poverty and hate and still managed to survive somehow. Until finally I gained a purpose no one ever should know about. A purpose that demanded the sacrifice of everything that made me who I am in order to have things I wasn't destined to. Things life didn't care to give me. So, I changed to be able to demand.

And everything came back, the things I tried to drown learned to swim. All because I shared with Shon the bad luck and the skills to survive somehow.

I gulped the lump in my throat, shaking my head slightly. I looked away from his eyes, clearing my throat.

“I will send down here some of the men that got injured. And...” I looked in his eye and waited for a few seconds. “Thank you.”