by J. P. Sheen
Blake looked up and grinned. He still found it amusing.
Captain Drake Ransom never took prisoners.
Show no mercy, he advised his sons. Whatever needed doing could be done at sea. In all Blake’s life, his father had never once broken his golden rule.
Blake’s secret bubbled to his lips as the captain of the Devil’s Blessing bounded down the gangplank. But it died away as Bill Cockle and old Mr. Crabbs followed their captain, shoving a man draped in chains, blue rags, and his own blood.
Drake Ransom cut a magnificent figure in his expensive black greatcoat and bright crimson sash. With a flourish, the pirate captain swept a gold-trimmed tricorne off his head.
“Ladies, we have a guest!” he shouted to the throng of dirty silks and satins, “Please welcome Charles Thornhill, captain of His Majesty’s Ship the Fearless, a decorated Navy officer, and a superb pirate hunter!”
The pirates’ wives hissed and spat at the prisoner while Drake Ransom’s crew laughed like it was all a good joke. Blake tried to smile too, but his lips wouldn’t let him. It must have been really funny though, because Drake Ransom sprinted over to the Navy captain, ruffled up his hair, and shoved the officer’s hat triumphantly on his head. Hooting, the pirate sent him on his way.
Meanwhile, Blake stared at the prisoner’s back. It was all shredded up, like the flesh of an overripe mango. A curious sensation suddenly swept over Blake. It was powerful, and not unpleasant.
Blake looked to the other men for an example. They were whooping ecstatically, so he turned interested eyes back on the Navy captain’s mutilated back. His insides squirmed around, and the longer he looked, the stronger the feeling grew.
Blake frowned guiltily. He felt like somebody was watching him…that he was doing something he shouldn’t, and they knew it.
Was he?
Drake Ransom’s shadow fell over him.
“Where’s that bitch hiding?” the pirate demanded. Blake looked up, startled.
“I don’t know,” he replied sincerely, knowing that Drake Ransom meant his mother. The pirate captain scanned the dispersing crowd.
“Where’s Jaimes?” he asked sharply, a storm brewing in his dark eyes.
I can breathe underwater! That was what Blake wanted to shout. Anything to make the storm dissipate.
“I don’t know,” Blake lied. Drake Ransom scowled and turned away.
It was now or never.
Blake blurted out his secret. His father laughed and called him a liar, but Blake knew that he wouldn’t be laughing for long.
A brass bell chimed over Blake’s head as he entered the Blue Barrel.
The tavern was as unsavory a place as ever. Barely any sunlight filtered through the grimy glass. Apparently, it cost less to buy candles than to scrub windows.
Blake filched a stack of coins off of a nearby table, seeing that its owner was too caught up in his card game to notice. Then he sat down in a far corner, propping his boots up on the table. He examined his cuffs as he waited to be waited on. They were finely embroidered and had shiny silver buttons. Probably everyone thought he was a pirate captain who had just struck gold.
“Wha’ can I get fer ya, sir?”
Blake quickly stopped admiring his buttons. His mouth twisting unpleasantly, he looked up and right at a grease-stained bodice. Very slowly, his eyes traveled up until they reached the barmaid’s face, which was certainly nothing to look at, all round and red like a cherry. Finally, he growled, “Whatever food this crummy tavern sells.”
The barmaid seemed used to this kind of behavior.
“Righ’ away,” she replied briskly, and looked at her customer for the first time. Blake saw her shock before she hastened away, returning several minutes later to set a dish and tankard before the sulking seaman. Blake glared after her as she hurried away. Then he grabbed the tankard and peered at his reflection. What he beheld shocked him.
He was…hideous.
His face was clammy, his eyes red and swollen. Long black hair straggled like seaweed about his hollow cheeks, and his ratty whiskers belonged to a drunkard, not a suave Pirate King. Bits of spidercrab were still stuck between his yellowed teeth. No wonder the wench had looked so horrified. He looked like a monster dragged up from the deep.
He didn’t recognize himself.
Blake slammed the tankard down, hating everyone. Though nobody glanced his way, they were no doubt all wondering the same thing: what had happened to that man?
Blake steeled himself. He was terrified of what he would see, but he forced himself to look into the tankard again. Holding it up, he brushed his hair back and peered as hard as he could at his forehead. But there was no brand mark stamped there, no hideous red crescent. So, he’d been going shithouse crazy down there. Then what had been real, and what hadn’t? What about those demons? Or Keel Cutlass?
What about the Sea Captain?
Blake’s spirits rose like sails catching the wind. He set the tankard down, dragging a relieved hand through his tangled mop. If Keel Cutlass had been a product of his deranged brain, then the Sea Captain and his request must have been too…
…but then, what had guided him back to the ocean’s surface?
All this confusion made Blake’s head hurt. He growled, beating his forehead with a clenched fist. Suddenly, he loathed his evening plans. He couldn’t abide the dark, stifling tavern.
A man could suffocate in here, he thought bitterly, and all he could think of was how he wanted to get the hell out of this reeking dump. He didn’t want to be here.
At least he had a hot meal to look forward to. A ravenous Blake set to work demolishing his supper…and started to gag. Fish-and-ale pie! The pirate nearly threw his plate across the tavern, right at the waitress’s fat head. Didn’t that cow know how much he hated fish?
Cursing and choking, Blake mucked down the rest of his nauseating pie. Then he gulped down ale, trying to get the taste of sewage from his mouth. His first hot meal in two years, a bloody waste!
Drake Ransom pulled Blake’s head out of the water after a period that would have cost another person his life.
“Father, stop!” begged Jaimes, though he knew Blake wouldn’t drown, “You’re hurting him!”
“I’m fine, Jaimes,” snapped Blake, but to his relief, he was released. He didn’t mind getting dunked, but his father’s fingers had dug painfully into his scalp.
Drake Ransom couldn’t stay still. He bounded around the hut, grabbing his rum bottle along the way.
“It’s true; it’s all true!” he crowed. Blake’s chest swelled, and he stood tall. For once, he wasn’t afraid when the pirate’s eyes landed on him, for they were blazing with approval.
“You know what this means?” Drake Ransom demanded, guzzling down rum.
Blake shook his head.
The pirate captain glanced slyly at his wife and sweetly asked Blake, “Don’t you want to know where you got your gift, boy?”
Blake opened his mouth, confused. He knew where his gift came from; the Lady in Blue had given it to him. Had his father listened to anything he had just said? He glanced at Jaimes, who shook his head. Blake made a face at him.
“It’s magic, I tell you! Gipsey magic!” Drake Ransom declared and chortled, “Who’d have guessed it, that wench wasn’t lying—I’ve sired a Sea King!”
Blake felt a sharp thrill at those words. Aye, a Sea King! That was his destiny!
“There were two crowns, according to the legend,” said Drake Ransom, running a trembling hand through his hair. He and Blake stood restless with excitement. Meanwhile, Jaimes and his mother sat stiffly at the table.
“The crowns were lost long ago…but they’re out there somewhere! She’ll lead you to them, Blake; she’ll lead you to them!”
Blake saw Jaimes roll his eyes. Fortunately, their father didn’t.
“Then a Ransom will be crowned the Black King! You’ve the ancient magic in you, boy! How long have you known about all this?”
Blake stamm
ered without thinking, “F-For years.”
His father’s eyes became menacing slits.
“And why didn’t you tell me about this before?” he demanded. His rum bottle flew back, and Blake blurted out, “Jaimes told me not to!”
Drake Ransom instantly turned on his firstborn. From behind his towering figure, Jaimes looked at Blake with grieved anger. He had only been trying to protect Blake…and in return, Blake had betrayed him.
“Why would he do such a thing?” demanded the pirate, looming over his son. Blake could hardly breathe, he was so afraid for Jaimes.
“Jealous?” Drake Ransom sneered. Jaimes looked up, his face a stiff mask. His father snorted.
“He should be. He has no special gift.”
Jaimes’s jaw tightened.
“What do you think, Jaimes?” Drake Ransom asked him softly, almost challengingly, “Ready to bow to your baby brother?”
Blake was well acquainted with Jaimes’s flared nostrils and scarlet cheeks; he knew what they meant. His elation trickled away, leaving him miserable and confused. All of a sudden, he wanted to strike his father. Why did he have to go and make Blake feel ugly and ashamed of his gift? He’d never, never, never use his sea breath against Jaimes. Never.
Stiff as a rail, Jaimes refused to react to his father’s taunt. That made Drake Ransom pause. He studied his son closely. Only someone who knew him well could have read the telltale signs and known that the pirate captain was enraged.
“You’ve grown since last I saw you, boy,” he remarked quietly, “Aye, you’re getting to be a man…”
He stepped back, looking Jaimes over. Nobody spoke. Then Drake Ransom declared, “I’ve left you alone with your mother too long. When the Blessing next sets sail, you’ll be on it. It’s time you started learning the family trade!”
Blake felt a jealous stab. Not fair! This conversation had been about him, and Jaimes had stolen all his thunder! Though truth be told, the thief in question looked like his worst nightmare was coming true. Jaimes clutched his beloved Encyclopaedia with white-knuckled hands, and his mother ventured timidly, “Drake…don’t you think—”
“And you SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!”
Drake Ransom turned and struck his wife across the mouth. Blake flinched, but Jaimes did the unthinkable. He jumped out of his chair and forced himself between his mother and father, harshly shoving the latter. Drake Ransom staggered back and regained his balance. Blake expected the very worst for Jaimes, but Drake Ransom didn’t immediately make his move. He didn’t have to. They were all trapped. There was nowhere to run.
“So you think you’re above the family trade, is that it, boy?” the pirate breathed, his eyes glinting softly, “A prince among savages, are you? Better than your father? The man who raised you, fed you, clothed you? What has your mother told you, boy? What has she told you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Jaimes replied monotonously.
Drake Ransom’s face screwed up. Snatching Jaimes’s book, he hit the teenager across the face with it and started tearing it apart.
“Four-eyed bookworm!” he screamed. His spittle sprayed Jaimes’s red face. “Aye, Jaimes, that’s right, a worm! You’re a worm under my boot, and I can break you! Aye, boy, I can break you! You made a mistake, crossing me!”
He looked at his trembling wife. “When your son returns in a few months, I swear to you, woman, you won’t recognize him!”
Drake Ransom turned back to Jaimes, and Blake knew what his look meant. He had to do something!
“I’ll go!”
His cry got his father’s attention.
“I’ll go in Jaimes’ place!” he volunteered.
“You?” Drake Ransom sneered, “What good would you be?”
Blake proudly lifted his head. “I have sea breath! Besides, I want to go! I’m not too young to serve as a powder monkey! Let me go instead, Father!”
Blake’s obvious sincerity cooled Drake Ransom’s flaming temper, bringing him back to the level of reason. He even smiled.
“So you want to go to sea, do you, boy?”
Blake nodded eagerly. This might turn out to his advantage, after all!
“Aye! I want to go with you! I…”
He suddenly noticed Jaimes shaking his head. His brother’s eyes were cold as ice, and deathly scared.
No, Blake, he mouthed, let me go.
Blake realized his mouth was hanging open idiotically. He snapped it shut and stuck out his tongue. Drake Ransom swiftly turned, but both brothers were too quick for him. The pirate looked suspiciously back and forth between them.
Blake scowled. Was Jaimes trying to save him? Well, Blake didn’t need saving! He wanted to go to sea, and he would! Jaimes couldn’t stop him! Let him stay here and keep house with Mother! Blake Ransom was about to seize his destiny! A pirate captain! A Sea King!
Blake shivered with excitement, and his face split into a wide grin.
But Jaimes frowned.
Blake couldn’t help but peer around the Blue Barrel for any tall, wide-girthed sailors…hoping beyond hope that fate would bring him and Tolger back together tonight. But of course, Tolger wasn’t there, and he felt foolish.
A peel of laughter broke out. Blake’s sullen gaze flickered toward a group of chummy sailors enjoying a pint and a yarn. Why was he still sitting here by himself like a pathetic sap? Why didn’t he return to the sea, which at least wanted him, if only to consume him again?
Blake turned toward the window. Faintly, he saw black lines against a garnet-red sky, the silhouettes of numerous masts and shrouds. He heard the ocean’s whisper and even smelled her salty breath.
Blake sniffed. Scratch that last one. That was actually his breath he smelled.
“Why didn’t you come for me?” he whispered bitterly. He took out a halfpenny and twirled it with a bored air, glowering here and there. So, this was what he’d risked life and limb to return back to? Fat wenches flirting with grinning, gap-toothed sailors…pea brained tar-locks roaring and belching up a storm…what a dem thrilling homecoming this was! Disappointment! Why did everything turn out to be one big bloody disappointment?
Loathing rushed like poison through his veins. Well, what had he expected? If he was going to be so dem choosy, what did he want?
Blake scowled and flicked the halfpenny into the air, racking his brains. But he couldn’t come up with anything. To hell with his exciting evening plans. He didn’t want to set out for bloody Yaletown. He didn’t give a hoot about the Crowns. He didn’t give a hoot about anything. Nothing mattered. The world and everyone in it could go to hell, including himself.
All he felt like doing, in fact, was leaving the Blue Barrel…and maybe the whole bleeding world altogether. But his body felt heavy as a rock, and he could hardly bring himself to shift his lazy arse out of his seat.
With a careless air, Blake flipped the halfpenny face up and examined it. His gaze flicked from the coin, to a seadog squeezing the giggling whore on his lap, and back down again. Then his face screwed up, and he shoved the coin back into his pocket. This was pathetic! He didn’t need these people, or anybody else! He was the Black King!
Abandoning his table, Blake stormed for the door just as a welcoming shout rang out.
“Step up, mateys, step up! There’s gowld to be won! Step up if ye dare!”
Blake glowered at the speaker, shoving himself between two chairs. He was a greasy-looking fellow, right down to his grubby sideburns and oily grin. Tolger wouldn’t trust a word he said.
“What’s the catch?” a burly sailor shouted.
Sideburn Man looked shocked. “Didn’t I explain the rules o’ the game? I ‘ave ‘ere three glasses o’ Dai’su’s famous black rum. ‘Ooever can drink ‘em all in a breath wins a pouchful o’ gowld!”
Blake shook his head scornfully. He’d heard of black rum before. Many a liquor-hardened seaman swore to have seen his wildest fantasies suspended before his eyes and the world swinging back and forth like a
pendulum…and all that from one shot. Blake fancied he could down those three shots. He had swigged one down once (also on a dare) without any ill effects. Apart from the raging headache and spinning tunnel vision. But those had worn off.
“Wha’ about you there?”
Blake looked around to see which poor soul had been singled out, only to discover the entire tavern staring at him. Sideburn Man stood on a table, pointing right at him. Blake’s face burned. There were too many eyes! He wanted to snarl at everyone to leave him alone! Instead, he carelessly replied, “I don’t think so.”
“What’s the matter?” jeered Sideburn Man while the taverngoers booed. Blake’s eyes darted about, despising every stupid face he saw. Everyone, from the tattooed seamen to the barmaid, was watching him, waiting to see what he would do.
“Too scared? Come now, man, don’ be a coward! Don’ forget, there’s gowld to be won!”
Blake didn’t give a damn about the gold, but he did care about being thought a coward. His mind was feverish…he couldn’t think straight! Everyone was pressing in around him. It was like being trapped aboard the Polaris…eyes…too many eyes!
Look away! Leave me be!
Blake’s gut warned him to flee to the ocean. But he couldn’t. He was Drake Ransom’s son. A Sea King. This pathetic little man had no idea…
“I’ve had black rum before,” Blake replied coolly, “It’s fairly strong, I grant you, but I don’t care much for the taste.”
He had perfected this act years ago. Raising a disdainful eyebrow, he curled back his lips into an amused half-grin. Meanwhile, sweat trickled down his arms, and his heart thudded wildly.
“This oughta be a piece o’ cake, then! Come on, ev’ryone, give the captain a leetle encouragement!”
The entire tavern cheered Blake on. It was a bloody nightmare. Could these people sense his fear? He had enemies everywhere. What if one of Hawkeye’s crew was in the crowd? How did Blake know those shots wouldn’t turn him into a raving drunk?