by J. P. Sheen
Blake jerked on his pole.
“Why don’t you become a fisherman instead?” Jaimes suggested. His tone was mild, but his eyes were grave. “Your gift is useful for fishing. Remember when I lost my fishing rod?”
“Aye, you have a landlubber’s grip. But I won’t become a fisherman! I want to be captain of a big, grand ship!”
“I don’t want to be a fisherman either,” sighed Jaimes, ignoring his twitching line.
“What do you want to be?” Blake was suddenly curious. He had never considered that Jaimes might have dreams of his own.
“Never mind that.”
They sat in silence for a time. But the sea was so dazzlingly blue, and Blake couldn’t remain still for long.
“This is boring,” he announced, “Drop your rod like last time, so I can get it.”
“That was an accident.”
“It was fun.”
Jaimes laughed. “But it was too easy! Here, go find this!”
He dropped his “lucky shell,” the beautiful conch Blake had given him for a birthday present.
Blake cocked his head. “You know, if I can’t find that, you just lost your luck for good.”
“Oh, you’ll find it, Blake. I’ve nothing but confidence in you!”
Blake grinned and leapt overboard, making their boat rock and Jaimes yelp. And as he struck out for deeper waters, his joy heightened into ecstasy, until his spirits reeled about more wildly than a shell caught in the tide.
Blake’s arms were already sore, and before long, they burned with fatigue. For a while, he struggled stubbornly on. Then he gave up.
“Ah…go on, fly away, damn thing…”
Blake threw down his oar in disgust. Though nobody was around to observe his feeble efforts, his cheeks blazed as much as his chest. He used to scale a brigantine’s mast in the blink of an eye. In his current state, he doubted he’d get his bony arse off the deck. But this was just the beginning, Blake promised himself. He’d grow strong again.
The pirate watched the seagull disappear from sight. It was heading east, he noted. When his muscles felt up to it, he’d row in that direction again. He couldn’t be far from land with all these birds flying around. And when he reached land…
Blake leaned back and put his arms behind his head, grinning in a most piratical manner. He couldn’t wait to begin the new chapter of his sea rovings. When he made it to land, he’d make his way to Yaletown...and for once, Blake noted with a crooked smile, he wasn’t opposed to traveling by land. The Pirate’s Nest would be the first place to go hunting for the Black King’s Crown…and a certain traitorous bastard, who was about to learn that Drake Ransom’s son could even escape from hell, if that’s what it took to send his enemies there. He wouldn’t rest until he’d seen Hawkeye to the Sunken Slaughterhouse and stolen back his Crown. It was high time, Blake thought with his eyes agleam, for another adventure. With luck, he’d also manage to reunite with Tolger along the way. Blake’s face brightened at that. His smirk lost its hardened edge, such that he looked more like a mischievous lad plotting a scheme than a pirate. Wouldn’t Tolger be surprised to see him? Having the world think you’d become fish food did have its benefits after all…like scaring the breeches off your best mate. Blake sniggered. If he could make Brandon Tolger yelp like a scared little girl, he’d feel compensated for weeks of suffering.
Aye, there was much to do, and everything was about to change! A surge of excitement prompted Blake to swear an oath that he’d get his revenge or perish in the attempt…but his passion died off as quickly as it had come. Blake’s smile gradually slipped off his face and was replaced by a wistful frown. He stared up at the sky, trying to recapture the joy he had felt earlier at the sight. But it was already beginning to lose its wonder, and slowly, Blake’s face grew tired, even troubled…then he viciously shook his head, cast aside his bothersome thoughts, and distracted himself most successfully with tantalizing visions of a silver crown.
A storm was brewing, he noted groggily. Clouds were gathering. The ominous, dark swell looked like lumps of charcoal piling across the heavens. Blake leaned back and rested his head against the stern, watching the blue sky turn black.
“Come then, you waves, and do your worst,” he whispered wearily, “I’m not afraid of you. I have never been afraid of you.”
He proved it, too, by sinking into a deep slumber. The waters stirred, the wind moaned, and the fishing boat bobbed about as several clear beads splattered its hull. To other men, this would have been a foul omen.
But to Blake, it was a lullaby.
The light was great, and it was blinding.
Blake lay on the sand, grinning from ear to ear. Sunlight radiated through his closed eyelids, painting them red, and the tide licked his toes. It wanted him to follow it. But to where?
Jaimes’s dry, irritable tones cut through the ocean’s whispering song.
“Blake. What are you doing?”
“Listening to the ocean,” Blake replied, smirking, “It’s speaking to me.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I should sail out to sea,” Blake decided. He opened his eyes, drinking in the blue sky. Sometimes the whole world seemed to be inviting him on a grand adventure.
“Where do you think you’d go?” Jaimes asked him disparagingly.
Blake grinned even wider. “Where the wind and the waves take me!”
“No wonder you’re so bad at finding your way around.”
That was a cruel jab. Blake sprang to his feet.
“That’s a bleeding lie!” he shouted.
“Don’t talk like that, Blake,” Jaimes snapped back, “Mother told you not to.”
With his chestnut hair and light complexion, Jaimes clearly took after his mother. Blake, on the other hand, was a miniature, nut-brown version of their father. A shaggy mop obscured his eyes so that they peeked impishly (devilishly, Jaimes would have said) through a curtain of matted black. Jaimes, on the other hand, always tied his hair neatly back into a pigtail. This was a wise move, as his serious brown eyes were the only things that induced Blake to heed him occasionally. Something in them made Blake suspect his brother was smarter than he’d ever be.
“That surly wench!” sneered Blake, looking like a miniature Drake Ransom, “If she thinks she can order me around, she’s—”
“Don’t you dare refer to my mother that way!”
Blake involuntarily stepped back. Jaimes’s balled fists and crackling eyes were terrifying. He looked like he was about to pound Blake to a pulp. But in the end, Jaimes merely shot him a withering glare from behind his spectacles and turned away. Like Blake was beneath him.
Something ugly took hold of Blake’s heart and wrung it like a dirty rag.
Rage took over.
Blake shoved Jaimes hard between his shoulder blades. Jaimes whirled around and struck Blake across the face, yelling “Bastard!”
The blow knocked Blake clean over. Normally, he would have leapt up and lashed back, but this time, he remained sprawled on the sand.
“You hit me!” he cried in tones of utter bewilderment, “You hit me!”
“I’m sorry, Blake!” Jaimes agitatedly wrung his hands. “I won’t do it ever again, I swear!”
“I could hit you back!” Blake shouted, “I could make you pay!”
Then he noticed the round-lensed spectacles lying in the sand. Jaimes started for them, but Blake was faster. He pounced and came back up, holding his prize aloft in a clenched fist. Jaimes froze, looking frightened.
“That’s my only pair, Blake,” he said quietly. Pleadingly. “I don’t have another.”
Triumph surged through Blake’s veins. He breathed hard, glaring at Jaimes. Then, slowly, he looked down at the delicate spectacles. And he remembered. Jaimes had put them on just last night to count the stars with Blake because, once again, he’d had a bad dream about the Lady in Blue.
Blake’s fury ebbed away like the sea tide. Silently, he held out the spectacles. His face awash with r
elief, Jaimes took them and put them back on.
“Blake,” he said hesitantly, “I think I owe you an—”
“I’m running away to sea!” Blake interrupted, and tore down the shore.
“Blake, come back!”
Jaimes’s frustrated shout shot adrenaline through Blake’s veins, and he ran even faster. Then he heard his brother pursuing him…and gaining on him. Before Jaimes could catch him, Blake leapt into the sea.
A world of silence immediately engulfed him. Follow me, the tide commanded him, and Blake obeyed, swimming away from Moanamiri and everyone on it. Then he remembered Jaimes’s taunt about his lack of direction and surfaced to get his bearings. To his surprise, Blake spotted a handsome brigantine sailing straight for Moanamiri. A black flag flapped proudly atop its mainmast.
His father was back!
Blake swam hastily back ashore, where Jaimes stood motionless, staring at the pirate ship.
“What’s your problem?” Blake demanded irritably, shaking saltwater from his ears,
Jaimes didn’t reply, but his hand moved impulsively for the useless gold pocket watch he always wore. Blake grew uneasy. Why did Jaimes seem so nervous? It was only their father...
Suddenly, Blake remembered what Drake Ransom looked like in a rage. He scowled. His brother was a spoilsport.
“Blake,” Jaimes said abruptly, “Don’t tell Father I saw the Blessing.”
“Why—”
But Jaimes was already running into the forest. Blake hesitated. The Devil’s Blessing was probably filled with all sorts of wonderful treasures. He bounced indecisively from sole to sole. Then, instead of racing to the docks, he started after his brother.
He found Jaimes kneeling in a small clearing with his head in his hands. Quickly, he dropped behind a hoku bush and peered through its leafy branches. He wanted to comfort Jaimes…but he had no idea what to say.
“I have to go back.”
Jaimes looked up. His face was strained, and Blake felt an unpleasant jolt. Then Jaimes fiercely shook his head and protested, “I c-can’t! This time, he’s sure to m-make me go—”
Blake waited with bated breath, but Jaimes merely rose, brushed sand off his breeches, and manfully squared his shoulders.
“I must go back,” he repeated in the calm tone Blake was used to, “I’m needed.”
In a flash, Jaimes’s whole demeanor changed. He lifted his chin and folded his arms, and Blake shrank back as he declared in a frightening voice, “But one day, you’ll pay for everything you’ve done to us! I’ll make you pay, I’ll—”
Jaimes’s voice caught, and his eyes suddenly flared with fear. Blake’s chest constricted, but the moment passed by in a flash. The teenager popped his pocket watch open and glanced at it. Then, briskly flicking away a tear, he clicked it shut and walked off without a backward glance. Blake sat there a long time after his brother had left, wondering at what he had just seen. Why should Jaimes be afraid of going home?
The village bell clanged. Blake sprang to his feet, forgetting all about Jaimes. Drake Ransom’s ship was docking at the harbor front!
Blake darted through the trees, nimble as a tern in flight. Soon his father would be bounding down the gangplank, and Blake wanted to be there to greet him! He had something important to tell him. A long kept secret, about a special talent that Blake alone possessed.
Hunger woke Blake.
It was the late afternoon, and the sky was blue again. Blake didn’t know whether he’d slept through the storm unscathed or if there had never been a storm at all.
He heard a familiar croak by the bow. His old friend the seagull was back. Blake looked over and broke into a huge grin.
“Land ahoy,” he said softly.
He recognized those grimy yellow shores, that grimy brown port! Brackenpool was a sleepy little fishing village along Elioth’s southwestern coast. Blake had docked in her harbor more than once to enjoy her…shall we say…less reputable diversions. Not after the Royal Navy had posted a reward for his capture though. That was when he had felt a southerly breeze calling him down to warmer waters, to go roving with the Sharid-folk for a spell.
Blake paddled with newfound energy, but when he still had a long way to go, he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. With a shout, he leapt overboard and crashed into the sea. He swam with all his might, and when he was close to the shore, the tide surged up and around him and carried him the rest of the way. Blake tumbled onto the sand, crying out. Everything—the wind blowing on his face, the sand seeping between his fingers, the warmth of the sun—it all felt magical. His soul was bedazzled; his senses overwhelmed. It was like being born anew, from the womb of the ocean.
A salty wind rushed down the shore. Blake laughed as it playfully grabbed at his hair and shirt. He wanted to race it down the shore, so he did. He wanted to fly through the air and kick up sand and water! He wanted to feel alive!
He would get strong again. He would forget the Polaris, the shadows, and the slaughterhouse. That time was behind him now for good. He was never going back to the darkness.
Blake looked up at the sky and jubilantly roared. A little way offshore, a fisherman sat in his boat, shaking his head as he watched the half-naked madman careen down the seashore.
Blake could have stayed on the shore all day long, just as he had countless times as a boy. But his stomach had other ideas, so he bid a wistful farewell to the sparkling waves and promised them that he would return to watch the sunset. And after that, Blake reminded himself, the moon would be there to keep the shadows at bay.
On his way to Brackenpool, Blake walked by groups of fishermen dragging bulging nets across the sand. The fishy stench turned Blake’s stomach. He was starving and would eat anything…except for slimy, stinky fish!
Blake grinned. He never had to eat fish again if he didn’t want to.
The pirate sauntered jauntily down the shore. He was in excellent spirits! Tomorrow morn, he’d be making his way toward Yaletown, where the Pirate’s Nest lurked underneath the port-town’s cobbled streets. That was the Blood King’s favorite hideout, and seemed like a promising place to start hunting for the Black King’s Crown.
Aye, there was much to do!
Soon enough, he’d focus on the mission that lay before him: to track down Tolger, steal back his Crown, and make Henry Hawkeye suffer for his crimes. But right now, Blake didn’t want to think about those things.
Right now, he wanted to celebrate.
8
The Pirate King’s Return
Brackenpool looked the same as she had the last time Blake had visited her, over six years ago.
Brown brick houses lined the harbor front, their chimneys jutting from shingled roofs of varying heights. Several shopkeepers had whitewashed their shops, but the brackish wind was swiftly peeling off the paint, so that the remaining flakes looked like dried bird poo.
In the dockyard, a small flock of merchant ships and Navy vessels was nestled together. A few vessels were bound for the New World, but most were heading up the River Crowne to Kingston or northwesterly toward Yaletown or Chippen-on-Sea.
Blake swaggered down the dockside, watching ships being loaded and unloaded. Seagulls and terns hopped around, picking at rotten bits of fish. Men in cocked hats and ladies in hoop skirts strolled past the shop windows while, across the cobbled street, sailors lugged their cargo up gangplanks and fishmongers worked hard, descaling fish and shucking oysters.
The first time Blake had walked down this street, he and Tolger had just recently escaped the Royal Navy’s clutches, and Blake had been giddy at the thought of having outwitted His Royal Majesty. Had King Jaimes the Fourth learned yet about the dastardly pirate Blake Ransom? The nuisance responsible for sinking the Navy’s pride and joy, the HMS Resilient? The ship of the line hadn’t lived up to her name after all.
Blake grinned, cheered up by his reminiscing. The sensation felt foreign.
Everything changes now, he thought, and his spirits soared. All he wa
nted was this—to feel the wind and smell the salty air. Blake closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. This evening, he was going to celebrate his return with abandon…and providentially, he knew just the place where he’d be sure to find some delightful company.
Something small and hard bounced off his temples, wiping the twisted smirk off his face. Blake bent over and picked up a halfpenny. A copper King Jaimes the Fourth frowned sternly up at him. Blake scornfully threw the coin back on the ground and glared at the bewigged buffoon who had tossed it at him. He was no beggar. He was a Sea King!
Someday, everyone would know it.
Still…the Silk Stocking had a point. He had to be a sore sight for the eyes. Blake picked the halfpenny back up with a devious smile.
After a brief stop by Mason Court, the classier side of town, that problem had been quickly remedied. Blake sauntered down the docks again, this time sporting new trousers and a fashionable maroon greatcoat, compliments of the estimable Cap and Coat. He had paid for them, too. Or more accurately, Blake thought with a sneer, the His Royal Majesty had. He had left the halfpenny in the Cap and Coat’s storeroom, after helpfully replacing several empty boxes on the top shelf. He had also tied his pearl inside a handkerchief and stuffed the bundle down his underdrawers. Not exactly the comfiest, but it did the trick.
In his new finery, he could stand a little taller, lift his head a little higher, and swagger a little more. He once again felt like Blake Ransom, wandering rogue and King of the high seas.
His good temper restored, Blake set about locating the Blue Barrel, a disreputable old tavern where he and Tolger had toasted their victory six years ago. It seemed appropriate that Blake should begin celebrating his “homecoming” there.
The Blue Barrel didn’t take long to find. It still sagged on the edge of the dockyard, looking ready to tip into Brackenpool Bay. Its blue signpost was the same too, though more weather-beaten. The tavern keeper had never replaced the little barrel Blake had stolen, the one that used to dangle beneath the signpost. Blake had found the prank very amusing then. Tolger had not.