Daydreams II
Words: 950
Rating: G
Jamie POV
I gulped down my beer and slammed the glass onto the table just as the man across from me had. Except the man across from me just wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and he holds the odor of unwashed bodies and stale ale.
“Yer wantin to join Cap’n Flint’s crew, ay boy?” What I really want is to get out of Deadman’s Cay and get to the nearest Royal Navy recruiting station, but I need a ride first. I jumped ship in the Bahamas when they stopped to take on food and crew. My father is gonna kill me.
Father has been around this area for years looking for my mother, supposedly. But a person doesn’t just disappear. If she’s alive she can be found. I remember when I was just a kid my father and Uncle Jack used to talk about her before they would head out on yet another search for her. “If you’re among the living, I can find you”, Father had boasted. “Sometimes even if you’re among the dead”, Uncle Jack had added, and they’d both guffawed at that and actually clinked glasses. No idea what that may have been about. But all those years of searching had turned up nothing. I intend to find out once and for all if my mother is alive.
“D’ya hear me boy?” the pirate spits.
“Yes, yes, I hear you. I mean, ya, I do me matey.”
The pirate looks at me askance. I got that wrong.
“Do I knows ya?” the pirate asks, “Ya look famill-ar to me...”
“I’ve just got one of those faces”, I tell him. That’s all I need, for a pirate to decide I look just like the Scourge of Piracy. This face is a curse and blessing. I can’t hide in the damn Caribbean! Everyone knows who I am. My whole life it’s been, “Ah, the Admiral’s boy, ay?” I’ll never step out of the old man’s shadow at this point. Of course there was that time I was late bringing Carina home, but her father’d let it slide because I’m “the Admiral’s boy.”
“Ye arint goofy are ya boy? We don’t need to take on no mental defectives”, the pirate adds.
I guess I need to concentrate. “Just nervous I guess.”
“As well ya should be, boy, if Cap’n Flint don’t like the looks o’ya, boy-o, over the side, ya go.” He bursts into laughter. The truth is I’m having a difficult time following the conversation because I can’t understand the man. I try to hold in a laugh imagining Pearl in this conversation. The only person in the world a bigger stickler for grammar than Father. She’d tell the pirate that if he bothered to get an education, perhaps he wouldn’t need to raid, pillage, and plunder, and could avoid the hangman’s noose. At which point she would start teaching him to read. Whether he liked it or not.
I follow him out of the pub to the coast, where a ramshackle ship sits in dock. “Yer the last o’em, we been takin on crew fer weeks.” The pirate lays a goat across my shoulders, that whinnies and kicked me in the chest, and then puts two heavy boxes in my arms. “Go on then, ye scabbarous dog, we don’t pay ye to stand around.”
Pirates don’t get paid at all. At least not until they steal something, but I don’t mention it.
“This yer last recruit?” a voice asks, but the boxes are too high for me to see who it is. I put them down with a clunk.
“Anything in there’s broken, boy, I’ll break yer ‘ead!” screams another voice, and a hand whacks me on the back on the head.
I spin around to take a swing at him. “I’ll shoot ye dead, boy!” he booms.
“I like his spirit”, the first voice says, and I see- presumably- Captain Flint standing in front of me. A legend. He’s dressed better than the crew, speaks better also.
“Where did ye find this one, Bungy? This one is no pirate. His father will report him missing, and then we will have a problem-with the Royal Navy”, Flint complains. “Here’s a clue, Bungy, see his jacket? It could pay your wages for a year.”
The man who recruited me looks duped and angry.
“My father’s dead”, I supply, “I’m out here looking for my mother.” A half-truth comes out sounding better than a lie.
“Are ye now?” Flint asks. “And what makes ye think yer mother is on the high seas?” Laughter.
“I’ve heard stories about her. She was a great pirate. Once.” More truth.
“By the name of Anne? Or Maura?” he asks.
“No”, I say, and find myself about to speak her name, when I catch myself.
“You’re a lie from head to toe, boy, but I ken yer speaking the truth about your mother. Any son of a pirate is as good as one as far as I’m concerned. But your face...looks familiar...do I know ye?” he asks.
“I’ve just got one of those faces.”
“Mayhap I knew yer mother. If ye ever remember her name.” More laughter. “If yer mother was a pretty one, I may even be yer father.” Harder laughter.
“I know who my father is”, I growl. Low whistles from the crew.
“Spirit will only get you so far, lad, right up until ye smart mouth the captain. This one will bring us trouble, I’d bet my next cache, but damned if I’m not curious enough to find out what kind. Stow the guns and stores...weigh anchor...next stop those merry colonial trade routes...” Flint winks and disappears into the crowd of sailors.
Rating: G
Jamie POV
I gulped down my beer and slammed the glass onto the table just as the man across from me had. Except the man across from me just wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and he holds the odor of unwashed bodies and stale ale.
“Yer wantin to join Cap’n Flint’s crew, ay boy?” What I really want is to get out of Deadman’s Cay and get to the nearest Royal Navy recruiting station, but I need a ride first. I jumped ship in the Bahamas when they stopped to take on food and crew. My father is gonna kill me.
Father has been around this area for years looking for my mother, supposedly. But a person doesn’t just disappear. If she’s alive she can be found. I remember when I was just a kid my father and Uncle Jack used to talk about her before they would head out on yet another search for her. “If you’re among the living, I can find you”, Father had boasted. “Sometimes even if you’re among the dead”, Uncle Jack had added, and they’d both guffawed at that and actually clinked glasses. No idea what that may have been about. But all those years of searching had turned up nothing. I intend to find out once and for all if my mother is alive.
“D’ya hear me boy?” the pirate spits.
“Yes, yes, I hear you. I mean, ya, I do me matey.”
The pirate looks at me askance. I got that wrong.
“Do I knows ya?” the pirate asks, “Ya look famill-ar to me...”
“I’ve just got one of those faces”, I tell him. That’s all I need, for a pirate to decide I look just like the Scourge of Piracy. This face is a curse and blessing. I can’t hide in the damn Caribbean! Everyone knows who I am. My whole life it’s been, “Ah, the Admiral’s boy, ay?” I’ll never step out of the old man’s shadow at this point. Of course there was that time I was late bringing Carina home, but her father’d let it slide because I’m “the Admiral’s boy.”
“Ye arint goofy are ya boy? We don’t need to take on no mental defectives”, the pirate adds.
I guess I need to concentrate. “Just nervous I guess.”
“As well ya should be, boy, if Cap’n Flint don’t like the looks o’ya, boy-o, over the side, ya go.” He bursts into laughter. The truth is I’m having a difficult time following the conversation because I can’t understand the man. I try to hold in a laugh imagining Pearl in this conversation. The only person in the world a bigger stickler for grammar than Father. She’d tell the pirate that if he bothered to get an education, perhaps he wouldn’t need to raid, pillage, and plunder, and could avoid the hangman’s noose. At which point she would start teaching him to read. Whether he liked it or not.
I follow him out of the pub to the coast, where a ramshackle ship sits in dock. “Yer the last o’em, we been takin on crew fer weeks.” The pirate lays a goat across my shoulders, that whinnies and kicked me in the chest, and then puts two heavy boxes in my arms. “Go on then, ye scabbarous dog, we don’t pay ye to stand around.”
Pirates don’t get paid at all. At least not until they steal something, but I don’t mention it.
“This yer last recruit?” a voice asks, but the boxes are too high for me to see who it is. I put them down with a clunk.
“Anything in there’s broken, boy, I’ll break yer ‘ead!” screams another voice, and a hand whacks me on the back on the head.
I spin around to take a swing at him. “I’ll shoot ye dead, boy!” he booms.
“I like his spirit”, the first voice says, and I see- presumably- Captain Flint standing in front of me. A legend. He’s dressed better than the crew, speaks better also.
“Where did ye find this one, Bungy? This one is no pirate. His father will report him missing, and then we will have a problem-with the Royal Navy”, Flint complains. “Here’s a clue, Bungy, see his jacket? It could pay your wages for a year.”
The man who recruited me looks duped and angry.
“My father’s dead”, I supply, “I’m out here looking for my mother.” A half-truth comes out sounding better than a lie.
“Are ye now?” Flint asks. “And what makes ye think yer mother is on the high seas?” Laughter.
“I’ve heard stories about her. She was a great pirate. Once.” More truth.
“By the name of Anne? Or Maura?” he asks.
“No”, I say, and find myself about to speak her name, when I catch myself.
“You’re a lie from head to toe, boy, but I ken yer speaking the truth about your mother. Any son of a pirate is as good as one as far as I’m concerned. But your face...looks familiar...do I know ye?” he asks.
“I’ve just got one of those faces.”
“Mayhap I knew yer mother. If ye ever remember her name.” More laughter. “If yer mother was a pretty one, I may even be yer father.” Harder laughter.
“I know who my father is”, I growl. Low whistles from the crew.
“Spirit will only get you so far, lad, right up until ye smart mouth the captain. This one will bring us trouble, I’d bet my next cache, but damned if I’m not curious enough to find out what kind. Stow the guns and stores...weigh anchor...next stop those merry colonial trade routes...” Flint winks and disappears into the crowd of sailors.