Sing a song of sixpence (1/10)
A/N: In september of last year, I decided that I wanted to write a special Pirates episode of Special Projects. Then Kripke came out with Red Sky at Morning. So I decided to hold off on the pirates for a while. This is basically me having fun.
A/N2: One of the (untrue) legends surrounding the song Sing a song of sixpence is that it was a recruitment song for Blackbeard's crew. "Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye" was supposedly the promise of both steady pay and liquor to drink if you signed on with his crew.
Fic: Sing a song of sixpence (1/10)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: Pirates, Arrr!
Author: pen37
Beta: Strangevisitor7 and Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean, Sarah, Bela Talbot
Pairing:Chloe/Dean Sam/Sarah
Rating: pg
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10
Oracoke Inlet. November 21st, 1718
A sickly yellow moon rested in the sky like an eggshell stirred into coffee grounds over breakfast. Its twin ran like a rippling arrow from the Adventure out beyond the sand bars to the sloops that waited in open water like sharks before the frenzy.
On the deck of the Adventure, James Ferguson leaned against the mast as he packed tobacco into his pipe, and watched the captain out of the corner of his eye.
They'd been fortunate this last year. The Blockade that they'd put over on Charleston Harbor had netted them a chest of remedies, along with tobacco from the local farms and rum from the distillery. They'd kept an even bigger share of the spoils when they'd run half their ships aground and cut the majority of the crew loose. But from the look of the sloops out beyond their shelter, that luck was about to run out.
With a sense of fatalism, Ferguson noted the other sailors as they spread sand across the decks. It would soak up the blood and help them keep their footing during battle. More than one sailor stumbled unsteadily on his feet from the effects of the drink. Assuming they survived, his services - both as a carpenter and surgeon - would be needed.
Unless, of course, the captain has a plan. Ferguson turned a more direct attention on the captain. The man who had been born Edward Teach - and might possibly die tomorrow as Blackbeard - seemed unconcerned by the imminent danger. Around him, Ferguson could hear the murmuring of the crew. Some of them wanted to run for it. But more had faith in the captain.
Blackbeard had an uncanny ability to tell which way the winds of Fortune blew and to tie his sails to those favorable winds. He'd taken the Revenge from Stede Bonnet when it became obvious that the gentleman-turned-pirate was hopeless at command. He'd masterminded the blockade of Charleston Harbor.
The gentry just didn't know what to make of the captain and his theatrics. Most of them surrendered on sight when they saw him with his namesake trailing beard, red coat, and the fuses that he kept lit in his hat during battle.
As if the captain could sense the carpenter's eyes on him, he stiffened. “Something wrong, Mr. Ferguson?”
Around him, the crew held their collective breath. Gossip was that you never wanted the captain's attention. They said that he'd once shot his first mate, and then warned the rest of the crew that was his want to do so on occasion, just so that they didn't forget who he was. Ferguson lit his pipe and casually strolled up to stand alongside his captain. He figured that the greater danger would be the battle to come once the tide rolled in and brought those sloops over the sand bars.
After all, why kill your surgeon the day before you needed his services?
“Just nerves,” Ferguson nodded to the ships out beyond the sand bars. “Did you see a flag before the sun went down?”
“British,” Blackbeard said with a bitter chuckle. “Looks like my pardon wasn't worth the paper it was printed on.”
Ferguson nodded at that. “We may not survive the night.”
“Then I'll see you in hell.” Blackbeard shrugged in an unconcerned manner.
Ferguson thought of his mother - and how he'd failed to provide for her in her dotage. “If you don't survive - have you made arrangements for your wife?”
“Which one?” the pirate captain grinned at him.
Still thinking of his own mother - and against his better judgment, Ferguson pressed the issue. “Do any of them know where your treasure is?”
Blackbeard glared at him. Instantly, Ferguson knew that he'd gone too far. “My wives were whores when I met them, and they can go back to whoring for all I care.” He crossed the space between them and seized Ferguson in a stranglehold. “You're fortunate I need all able-bodies to fight, carpenter. Otherwise I might kill you for your cheek. Nobody but me and the Devil know where my treasure is. And whoever lives the longest shall have it.”
He shoved Ferguson to the ground, and stormed away. The saw-bones waited until the captain was gone before retrieving his pipe. At the moment, he'd rather face the authorities in the sloops across the sand bar, than the wrath of his own commander.
* * *
Off the coast of South Carolina - Present day.
Brett Rhanes frowned at his kids as they lay strewn around the deck of the rented boat in poses of boredom. He hated to admit it - but he just didn't understand children.
When he'd been their age, he would have loved it if his old man took him on vacation. He would have given anything to get to do half the things he did for his kids: the aquarium, the Gater Boat tour of the swamps, even the carriage tour of downtown Charleston.
But all they wanted was to stay home with his ex-wife. Kaylee wanted to hang out with her boyfriend, and Micah preferred the company of his video games.
He scowled at the horizon - until the sight of a double-masted wooden ship caught his eye. “Look kids! The Tallships are sailing into the harbor.” His enthusiasm was met with the collective groans of his three kids. He ignored their reaction in favor of admiring the wooden ship with its twin masts pillowed out by the wind.
To his delight, the ship turned in their direction, as if the sailors had seen him, and were angling close so that he could get a better view.
“Dad,” Micah said hesitantly. “I don't think that's a Tallship.”
“Don't be silly,” Brett turned to the console next to the helm. “I've got the brochure over here.”
“It kind of looks like the pirate ship in my video game,” Micah said.
Brett chuckled at that. “Don't be silly. It's --” He broke off as a boom thundered in the distance. With a frown, he turned and squinted at the ship. The boat had turned in profile to them and a side hatch had been raised. A round, black tubular shape was pointed at them.
While Brett stared at the ship, it seemed to flicker like bad static on a DVD. Somewhere off to the right, a splash resounded. Water fountained into the air. Some of it came down in their boat.
“Dad! They're firing on us.” Kaylee sat up and pointed toward the geyser.
“They can't do that!” He walked out to the bow of his own boat, and waved at them. “Hey! I've got kids on this ship!”
In response, a large, black flag unfurled as it was raised up the forward mast. Brett squinted as he made out the silhouette of a devil with an hourglass and a spear.
He heard the repeating boom again.
“Dad! Get down!” Micah screamed at him. Before he could move, the boat bucked under his feet. As Brett lost his balance and fell into the water, he reflected on how this was not supposed to happen.
A/N2: One of the (untrue) legends surrounding the song Sing a song of sixpence is that it was a recruitment song for Blackbeard's crew. "Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye" was supposedly the promise of both steady pay and liquor to drink if you signed on with his crew.
Fic: Sing a song of sixpence (1/10)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: Pirates, Arrr!
Author: pen37
Beta: Strangevisitor7 and Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean, Sarah, Bela Talbot
Pairing:Chloe/Dean Sam/Sarah
Rating: pg
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10
Oracoke Inlet. November 21st, 1718
A sickly yellow moon rested in the sky like an eggshell stirred into coffee grounds over breakfast. Its twin ran like a rippling arrow from the Adventure out beyond the sand bars to the sloops that waited in open water like sharks before the frenzy.
On the deck of the Adventure, James Ferguson leaned against the mast as he packed tobacco into his pipe, and watched the captain out of the corner of his eye.
They'd been fortunate this last year. The Blockade that they'd put over on Charleston Harbor had netted them a chest of remedies, along with tobacco from the local farms and rum from the distillery. They'd kept an even bigger share of the spoils when they'd run half their ships aground and cut the majority of the crew loose. But from the look of the sloops out beyond their shelter, that luck was about to run out.
With a sense of fatalism, Ferguson noted the other sailors as they spread sand across the decks. It would soak up the blood and help them keep their footing during battle. More than one sailor stumbled unsteadily on his feet from the effects of the drink. Assuming they survived, his services - both as a carpenter and surgeon - would be needed.
Unless, of course, the captain has a plan. Ferguson turned a more direct attention on the captain. The man who had been born Edward Teach - and might possibly die tomorrow as Blackbeard - seemed unconcerned by the imminent danger. Around him, Ferguson could hear the murmuring of the crew. Some of them wanted to run for it. But more had faith in the captain.
Blackbeard had an uncanny ability to tell which way the winds of Fortune blew and to tie his sails to those favorable winds. He'd taken the Revenge from Stede Bonnet when it became obvious that the gentleman-turned-pirate was hopeless at command. He'd masterminded the blockade of Charleston Harbor.
The gentry just didn't know what to make of the captain and his theatrics. Most of them surrendered on sight when they saw him with his namesake trailing beard, red coat, and the fuses that he kept lit in his hat during battle.
As if the captain could sense the carpenter's eyes on him, he stiffened. “Something wrong, Mr. Ferguson?”
Around him, the crew held their collective breath. Gossip was that you never wanted the captain's attention. They said that he'd once shot his first mate, and then warned the rest of the crew that was his want to do so on occasion, just so that they didn't forget who he was. Ferguson lit his pipe and casually strolled up to stand alongside his captain. He figured that the greater danger would be the battle to come once the tide rolled in and brought those sloops over the sand bars.
After all, why kill your surgeon the day before you needed his services?
“Just nerves,” Ferguson nodded to the ships out beyond the sand bars. “Did you see a flag before the sun went down?”
“British,” Blackbeard said with a bitter chuckle. “Looks like my pardon wasn't worth the paper it was printed on.”
Ferguson nodded at that. “We may not survive the night.”
“Then I'll see you in hell.” Blackbeard shrugged in an unconcerned manner.
Ferguson thought of his mother - and how he'd failed to provide for her in her dotage. “If you don't survive - have you made arrangements for your wife?”
“Which one?” the pirate captain grinned at him.
Still thinking of his own mother - and against his better judgment, Ferguson pressed the issue. “Do any of them know where your treasure is?”
Blackbeard glared at him. Instantly, Ferguson knew that he'd gone too far. “My wives were whores when I met them, and they can go back to whoring for all I care.” He crossed the space between them and seized Ferguson in a stranglehold. “You're fortunate I need all able-bodies to fight, carpenter. Otherwise I might kill you for your cheek. Nobody but me and the Devil know where my treasure is. And whoever lives the longest shall have it.”
He shoved Ferguson to the ground, and stormed away. The saw-bones waited until the captain was gone before retrieving his pipe. At the moment, he'd rather face the authorities in the sloops across the sand bar, than the wrath of his own commander.
* * *
Off the coast of South Carolina - Present day.
Brett Rhanes frowned at his kids as they lay strewn around the deck of the rented boat in poses of boredom. He hated to admit it - but he just didn't understand children.
When he'd been their age, he would have loved it if his old man took him on vacation. He would have given anything to get to do half the things he did for his kids: the aquarium, the Gater Boat tour of the swamps, even the carriage tour of downtown Charleston.
But all they wanted was to stay home with his ex-wife. Kaylee wanted to hang out with her boyfriend, and Micah preferred the company of his video games.
He scowled at the horizon - until the sight of a double-masted wooden ship caught his eye. “Look kids! The Tallships are sailing into the harbor.” His enthusiasm was met with the collective groans of his three kids. He ignored their reaction in favor of admiring the wooden ship with its twin masts pillowed out by the wind.
To his delight, the ship turned in their direction, as if the sailors had seen him, and were angling close so that he could get a better view.
“Dad,” Micah said hesitantly. “I don't think that's a Tallship.”
“Don't be silly,” Brett turned to the console next to the helm. “I've got the brochure over here.”
“It kind of looks like the pirate ship in my video game,” Micah said.
Brett chuckled at that. “Don't be silly. It's --” He broke off as a boom thundered in the distance. With a frown, he turned and squinted at the ship. The boat had turned in profile to them and a side hatch had been raised. A round, black tubular shape was pointed at them.
While Brett stared at the ship, it seemed to flicker like bad static on a DVD. Somewhere off to the right, a splash resounded. Water fountained into the air. Some of it came down in their boat.
“Dad! They're firing on us.” Kaylee sat up and pointed toward the geyser.
“They can't do that!” He walked out to the bow of his own boat, and waved at them. “Hey! I've got kids on this ship!”
In response, a large, black flag unfurled as it was raised up the forward mast. Brett squinted as he made out the silhouette of a devil with an hourglass and a spear.
He heard the repeating boom again.
“Dad! Get down!” Micah screamed at him. Before he could move, the boat bucked under his feet. As Brett lost his balance and fell into the water, he reflected on how this was not supposed to happen.