NaNoWriMo 2007 Eighteenth Chapter

Fresh Water Pirates- Chapter 18

The long dirty blond curls and braids of Captain Charles sat on his shoulders like albino snakes as he marched up and down the Rotten Rose, surveying the crew he had captured on his ship, the men he planned to use to help him conquer new land, steal new treasures, and perhaps start a new life altogether.  The idea of quitting piracy crossed his mind several times.  

The time he realized his crew was so hungry they actually voted to eat one of their own members, he thought that perhaps piracy wasn't the life anymore.  But then their prolonged sneak attack on that city of big things (and big people) proved a prosperous venture only pirate would perform.  

Another time Captain Charles thought of retiring from the pirate trade was the day Black Jenny lost her child.  As he took her blood and stillborn baby away in old ragged unsanitary sheets left on the Rotten Rose, his ships name seemed all too prophetic.  Rotten Rose, rotten life, that's what repeated in Captain Charles head that day.  Rotten Rose, rotten life.  What the heck was he going to do with his pirates?  The city was no place for a pirate to settle for retirement.  Too many people live in the city, and after a while, they would get caught in their nasty deeds, which were intended to be fairly short-term.  That's when Captain Charles thought of searching for new lands.

Returning to the Rotten Rose with over fifty men to sail the waters and assist in a new pirate mission rekindled that excitement a man gets aboard his vessel, in charge, orders at the ready.  Sleeping aboard the Rotten Rose, Captain Charles allowed the waters to lull him to sleep, whisper sweet dreams in his head, and take him to fantasies only pirates dream about.  Mermaids, piles of buried treasure discovered, sails reflecting the sun's light against a blue sky, and the power of adventure.  The heat of the body's blood, a man's vivid imagination thinking up wild tricky schemes, and the thrill of overtaking the lives of others.  

Now that the Rotten Rose would anchor near land in a day's time, he needed to ask himself if he planned to live a pirate's life, or did he need to return to a simple civilian with no name of importance.  Yes, Captain Charles was a pirate through and through, and he figured he would most likely die a pirate.  But the others on his ship, he thought, may have no clue how to die, let alone how to live.

He decided to take this thought to the others, sweating profusely while laboriously practicing how to throw their daggers after hours of sword practice.  

"Line up, ye scally wags, and open yer ears fer yer captain!  AAAArrrrrrrrrrrr!"  Captain Charles' growl still had quite the powerful effect on the sappy want-to-be pirates.  All of the men, including The Others, Black Jenny, and Sheila, stood in line, facing their captain, like soldiers during a drill.  Dog Face snorted some snot into his mouth and spit, an act that irritated the intended silence as only a rude pirate would conduct.  Seymour's adam's apple bobbed up and down and he swallowed his nervous saliva.  Sheila only fidgeted a bit to ensure that her new leather vest properly covered her proud bosom.  As soon as silence sat like a heavy muffling invisible wool blanket, Captain Charles finally spoke tot he crew, pacing up and down with his hands held behind his back.

"I needs be askin' ye scurvy dogs t' look in yer heart a moment, an' ask yerselves, ‘Am I a pirate?'  That's all, real simple like, ask yerself, ask yer heart, ‘Am I a pirate?'"  

The men started to look at each other, as if they needed affirmation from their neighbor to tell them who they were.  The chunky man in a Ralph Lauren polo shirt looked to the man in L. L. Bean plaid, and they both shrugged.  A man who couldn't grow a beard looked to the burly mechanic to his right and doubted himself.  Some men rubbed the stubble on their jaws and screwed their faces in a wrinkled mess.  Captain Charles thought to himself how they all looked like school girls to him, but if they were willing to commit to piracy, he'd make certain they lived a true pirate's life, through and through.


"Alright, ye yellow land lubbers, no body answer me quick.  I understan' some o ye's thinks ye be better fit fer fish food, is that th' thinkin' in yer thick skulls is it?" he scowled at each and every one of them with one eye stretched wide.  "Which one o ye bilge rats can tell me what be a pirate, eh?  I wan' t' hear what ye be thinkin'.  Any o ye yeller bellies cen tell me what ye be thinking? Or will ye be jest waitin' to be thrown overboard like a sickly lass?"

Seymour raised his hand, but Captain Charles waived his hand down and then scoured the new guy's faces with his abrasive glare.  Feet shuffled, hands twiddled, heads were scratched, pants adjusted, scarves re-tied over their heads, but no one spoke.  The Others looked down the line.  Elbows jabbed this guy and the next, but no one had the guts to talk, to explain, to guess what a pirate would want to hear as the definition of a pirate.  If they were drinking light beers with their co-workers at a Super Bowl party, they would have all kinds of answers as to what it means to be a pirate, but to tell a pirate captain, standing on his ship called the Rotten Rose, what it means to be a pirate, the corporate geek on a Starbucks hangover couldn't have a clue.

"I be a pirate, Captain!" Sheila spoke up with red cheeks blazing with heat.  Stripes of red emotion flamed up the sides of her neck.  She took another deep breath and continued, holding her chin up and shoulders proud.  "I be a pirate, Cap'n, an' I be expectin' t' be riding th' thrill o' life an' adventure, sailin' the waters an' lootin' the lan.  I be singin' in the wind when th' goin' gets tough, an I be cutting th' throats o those that be standin' in my way o treasure an' pleasure.  I be trustin' no man, Cap'n, yet I be obeyin' me orders an respectin' th' pirate law.  I be dirty as nails an' feistier than a rabid dog.  Wi time an luck, I be th' best pirate ye be knowin', Cap'n, I be sayin' so meself."

Not a soul spoke until they heard how Captain Charles responded.  This took some time.  Captain Charles held his hands tight against his lower back, and strolled slowly while rolling her words around in his head.  He did not looked especially pleased, yet he couldn't have been terribly displeased, for she hadn't had his sword at her throat yet.  Breathing slowed and halted.  Not a foot shifted.  The line-up of pirates may as well have been wooden statues.  Suddenly Captain Charles spun around on his heels and lunged toward Sheila with his sword.  Everyone closed their eyes until they heard the clink of metal.  As everyone opened their eyes, they saw Black Jenny and Sheila both standing with swords drawn, fending off the sword of their captain without a drop of fear in their faces.  In fact, Black Jenny's nostrils flared, and Sheila looked as though this were the most natural predicament.  Captain Charles smiled from ear to ear and started to laugh.

"Well done, ye wicked wenches!  Ye be pirates, all right!  Ye be pirates fer me any day!"

The three of them withdrew their swords carefully, as they heard the tinkling sound of yet another wimpy man peeing in his pants.  Captain Charles swung around on his heals again and lunged towards another man in line, who closed his eyes and received the sword in his stomach with his arms glued straight to his sides.  His eyes bulged out before blood slowly gurgled out of his fat mouth- not a flinch of reaction but that.  Captain Charles pulled his sword from the fat man's gut and shook his head.  

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.  Guess ye prefer t' be fish food, land lubber."  With that he looked to Dog Face Dale and nodded.  "Get this yeller belly in th' water, an' quick.  No need t' be cleanin' his whole lot of blood, now is thar?"

Dog Face obeyed.  He walked up the now slouched dying fat man, crouched before him, and heaved the gurgling man up onto his broad shoulder.  The lineup of men scattered away from him like he was carrying a deadly disease or a body of bad luck.  Dog Face thought nothing of it.  It had been the norm for him, hauling fat dead bodies this way and that.  What did it matter if he tossed this one overboard as opposed to tossing him in the freezer?

After the big plunge, Dog Face arranged his clothes again, pulling his blouse and vest back down into place, and adjusting his sword belt.  He noticed his captain taking note of the same observation he had, that all the new guys, except Sheila, were standing like storks on one leg, all huddled together, hands pulled in like sissies, looking at the puddle of blood like it was alive and poisonous.  Dog Face sighed in his characteristic gruff puff of hot air.  "What ye be starin' at?  No big deal, ye nillies!"

Barley Bob and Raven Red Tooth shook their heads.  How embarrassing!  Why the hell should they bother with such nobodies?  The entire scene shocked The Others.  A woman stands up to their captain with absolutely no fear, but the entire lot of men in khakis flock together like turkeys.  Again, the sound of piddle hitting the deck broke the silence like a squeamish tattle tail.  Even Seymour shook his head in disbelief.  What were these men made of?  How on earth had they lived so long?  If Seymour had such thin skin he'd be long dead.

Raven approached Captain Charles, who stood in complete anger with his hands on his hips, scowling at the sorry lot shivering in their loafers.  "Cap'n, "Raven spoke in a low quiet voice.  "What we be doin' wi' these lolly lambs when we get t' land?  Sell ‘em as slaves, ye think?"

Captain Charles spat on the ground and growled, "These be fit fer nuttin', not e'en slaves!  They be nuttin' but fish food!"  Steam puffed from his nostrils.

Raven pulled out one of his leather pouches and rubbed some herbs between is fingers, then took a deep breath, inhaling their aroma.  His eyes rolled so far back into his head that only his whites showed.

Captain Charles stood just as angrily, watching Raven impatiently.  Barley Bob, Black Jenny, Sheila, and Seymour slowly stepped closer so they could see what on earth Raven Red Tooth was up to next.  Dog Face Dale stood with ah mop, cleaning up the blood from the fat dead guy.  His eyes were on Raven instead of his soapy blood mess that seemed to just get pushed around rather than cleaned.

All the wimpy khaki men stood like frightened useless boys.  Some of them dared to whisper prayers, others simply looked like they were about to vomit.

Raven eyes started to flutter, his thick black eyelashes dancing like black moths.  His mouth gaped open and a hot raspy exhale slowly hisses from the pits of his throat.  Suddenly his eyes popped open and he snapped his head back upright to face Captain, but then he turned to stare at Black Jenny.  His face looked at her like she was a ghost.  He stared at her like that for quite some time while everyone else held their breath.  After what seemed to be a full twenty minutes, Raven turned back to Captain Charles and whispered, "We be needin' t' meet in private, Cap'n. "

Raven then backed away from Black Jenny and walked passed the knee-knocking cluster of frightened men.  When he got close to them he shouted, "Boo!"  He laughed as they jumped, and then he walked down to the captain's office.

Nobody knew quite how to take exactly what just happened.  Captain Charles hadn't seen anything from Raven that he hadn't seen before.  He and Raven had pirated together for decades, since before Raven his puberty, and if anyone had any intimate relationship with Raven and his gypsy magic, it was Captain Charles.

"Avast ye all!" Captain Charles shouted.  The wimps looked exhausted.  "I be wantin' this ship spotless befar dinner, ye hear me scally wags?  An those o ye who be wantin' t' be a true pirate, an foller th' command o yours truly, ye be ready to take me on a duel this evenin' befar sundown.  I be ready fer each an ever' one o ye yeller bellies.  Tonight we be all knowin' right quick who o ye stays, an who o ye be feedin' the little fishies below.  I be certain they be right hungry fer ye fat nilles."

As he retired below the deck to consult with Raven, The Others pushed around the piss-smelling khaki boys from chore to chore.  Dog Face, Black Jenny, and Barley Bob took the liberty to arm themselves with whips, and freely lashed at those who whined.  

Sheila took her scrub brush and started singing in her low bar voice, "Yo ho ho..."

  Copyright 2007 Laura Beck Nielsen