by J. P. Sheen
Then Blake noticed the mirror’s reflection.
There was Thornhill with his back turned, gaping at Blake. Only Blake wasn’t there. At least, not the adult Blake Ransom. Instead, an urchin with shaggy locks quailed in front of a horrified Charles Thornhill, his bare arms upraised, his face stricken with mindless terror.
Blake watched Thornhill’s expression go positively wild with despair. The potbellied captain backed away from the cowering child, but when he turned away, the boy stopped quaking, looked up, and shot a devilish grin at Thornhill as the man stumbled across the cabin toward the mirror, gripping his pistol in a white-knuckled fist.
Thornhill looked into the mirror. His bloodshot eyes darted left and right, and Blake saw his demonic ten-year-old self approach the anguished man, managing to look terrified and terrifying at the same time. But that wasn’t the only demon Blake saw. He also saw a big burly man wearing an ugly smile. He saw Admiral Ashby, Lieutenant O’Shea, and a small, fragile-looking girl who resembled young Charles Thornhill very much. With a jolt, Blake even saw his own father, Captain Drake Ransom.
All of Keel Cutlass’s demons closed in around Thornhill, hissing encouragements at him as he continued to hesitate. Blake couldn’t tell whether Thornhill saw them or not. Then, with a look that chilled Blake to the bone, the captain raised his pistol to his head. Gnashing their teeth in a hideous fashion, the demons shrieked in triumph and started dancing around Thornhill. Their eyes radiated a freakish kind of ecstasy as they celebrated with abandon, all the while goading their despairing victim on.
Then the vision dissolved and Blake was back in the Lady’s arms, his face buried in her chest. He refused to move or speak. The Lady whispered in his ear, “Blake, he is going to take his life.”
“Let me know when to pop the champagne!” Blake snarled back at her. His heart felt like it was being ripped to pieces; he expected to look down and see ribbons of bright crimson running down his shirtfront. How could they do this to him; how could they show him that; how could they expect him to do anything but celebrate the passing of the man who’d stripped him of his clothes, his dignity, and his innocence?
“He will be taken by Keel Cutlass. He will be lost, forever.”
“‘To escape from his hands, you must die by your own’!” Blake hissed, “He’ll escape that way!”
“Keel Cutlass is a liar,” said the Lady gravely, “That song is one of his most cunning lies, designed to speed men even faster into his embrace. He has captured many souls that way.”
Blake shuddered, remembering his actions aboard the Polaris. He cried desperately, “Let his father go to him!”
“He cannot see his father, for the same reason you could not see me,” countered the Lady, “And even if he could, it would only drive him further to despair.”
Blake snarled wordlessly and curled into a ball. Tears streamed out from under his eyelids as memories flashed through his mind’s eye. Each one stabbed and bit and clawed at his heart until it was a bloody, torn, mutilated mess. Then it was torn wide open, and Blake plunged down into that black abyss.
He whispered, “Then you must go to him, Lady.”
The pain that followed was indescribable. He was a boy; he was a child again; he could only squeeze his eyes shut and tremble. The Lady hugged him tight and whispered, “You have your mother’s heart…”
Very gently, she detached herself from Blake’s grasp. Rising, she took Blake’s calloused hands into her small white ones and caressed them like they were precious treasures.
“You have my hands, and you have my heart, Blake,” she told him, “Do not be afraid to use them.”
Blake’s head shot up; he looked shocked and childlike. Somehow, he found the strength to rise to his feet. It was all Blake could do not to beg the Lady to stay.
The Lady in Blue stepped onto the water. Then she paused and turned.
“Blake?” she asked in a low voice.
“Aye…Mother?”
“He still needs you.”
Blake stiffened and looked down at his toes. When he looked back up, he saw the Lady in Blue flying like a seabird across the waters, her mantle gathered in her hands as she raced to do battle for a soul against the Demon of the Deep.
Even when he couldn’t see her anymore, Blake still looked out across the sea. Then he felt the Sea Captain draw to his side and looked over. The ghost pointed at the crashing surf. The tide surged toward Blake, its foam white and bubbly. It lapped his toes and then retreated with a whisper, beckoning him to follow it into the sea.
A gentle shiver in his ribcage, like the wings of a bird expanding. A deep, aching pang. And a mysterious thrill, like he had been waiting for this moment all his life, and now it had finally come.
“To the sea?” Blake whispered, his spirit trembling with a wild, impossible hope. The Sea Captain smiled and nodded. He could not have looked tenderer had he been gazing at his own son. Blake’s heart skipped a beat and began to match the crashing of the waves.
Suddenly, his entire face lit up, brighter than the sunrise.
“To the sea, to the sea!” he murmured. He took a step forward, and the ocean came racing to meet him.
As a pale pink light slowly brightened the horizon, the Sea Captain led him down into the water. Dawn was not far off, but the full moon still shone white and fair, and next to it was the bright morning star.
Blake fought the incoming waves, but when the tide came up to his waist, he hesitated and halted, turning his head to look down the seashore. In the distance, he could see the merchant brig and the pier’s shadowy outline. He glanced at the Sea Captain with uncertain, questioning eyes, but the Sea Captain merely gestured with a smile. Perplexed, Blake imitated him, indicating the water around him. The Sea Captain nodded, so Blake got down on his knees, privately thinking that he was about to get a salty blast up the nose.
The Sea Captain took Blake’s head in his ghostly hands. To his surprise, Blake could feel his touch: it felt like a cool wind against his brow.
Then the Sea Captain plunged his head underwater, and a world of silence and solitude engulfed him.
Blake opened his eyes to a hazy eternity of midnight blue. He could hear nothing from the world above but the muted thundering of the waves. Beneath the water, the deep, steady thuds sounded like a human heartbeat.
Blake wasn’t under the water for very long, only a few seconds. But when he came up out of the water, he knew that he was not the same.
He wasn’t the only one to have changed. The Sea Captain was no longer a pirate’s ragged, emaciated victim. Rather, he stood tall and proud, looking handsome in his navy-blue uniform and gold-trimmed cocked hat. Every trace of Drake Ransom’s tortures had been wiped away.
He had been made new.
The Sea Captain looked at Blake. A father’s pride shone in his beautiful eyes, along with the bright morning star. Then he turned and began walking out to sea. Blake’s heart wrenched fiercely, seeing him go. He almost called out after him, but then he remembered the boy fast asleep under the boardwalk, and for Eselder’s sake, he remained silent and watched until the Sea Captain faded from sight on the golden wings of the dawn.
The morning star disappeared as the mother-of-pearl sky slowly brightened to a radiant, blushing pink. It wasn’t long before Blake caught sight of a small figure walking down the seashore toward him. He grinned, rubbing his bristly chin. It appeared he had been hunted down.
Blake’s amusement dwindled away. He could almost imagine that he was standing on Moanamiri’s white shores, and the brown-headed urchin heading toward him was Jaimes Ransom on his way to play pirates with Blake, like a good older brother. It was funny though.
Blake took a deep breath. His expression turned solemn and wistful. He didn’t want to play pirates anymore.
Silently, he watched Eselder plod down the seashore. Then, without warning, the strangest, most wonderful feeling enveloped him. It was unlooked for and utterly overwhelming: a sort of astonished joy, bri
ght and radiant, like the first white rays of dawn. To his amazement, Blake realized that he was no longer afraid. He could take Eselder with him wherever he was going. He could look after the boy. He could protect him from harm, without having to protect him from himself.
Because the dark desires within him were gone. They had been taken far away, far out to sea. Blake didn’t know how, but inside, he felt it. The black pall, which had suffocated him for years, had been washed away, and he could breathe again. In that brief time he’d spent under the water, he had been healed.
Like the Sea Captain, he had been made new.
And suddenly, Blake could look back over all his exchanges with Eselder without fear…and even farther back, to those nightmarish days at Kingston Court…and he could finally see past the lies to the truth. And it was like unlocking a prison door and stumbling out into the sunshine, into the glorious, golden light of freedom.
It wasn’t the touch of another Charles Thornhill that he’d craved then, or now. It had never been that, not really, not deep down where his true desires laid buried beneath an ocean of confusion, and hurt, and pain. It had been—it had always been—the love of a brother, his brother, his big brother Jaimes, the one who had protected and cared for and watched over him since his birth…that he had wanted. Aye, his feelings had been confused. Twisted by the things he’d seen and experienced. But at its core, the longing had been pure. And he could keep it that way if he chose. It was his choice.
Blake smiled. The same held true for his relationship with Jaimes’s son, and he would cling fast to that knowledge and hold it tight; he’d never let it go. He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t vermin. He wasn’t broken, or filthy, or vile. He would never believe those lies again.
Blake softly rubbed his fingers together. He had his mother’s hands, and he didn’t have to be afraid to use them. And he would use them, to protect the one who’d been entrusted to him, for however long their voyage lasted. Blake’s eyes softened, remembering something that Jaimes had told him, many years ago. He’d never forgotten, though Jaimes would have been astonished to know it.
Looking at Eselder, he whispered, “I will never let anything bad happen to you.”
His throat went tight and his eyes teared up. Quite alarmed, Blake coughed and grunted until he managed to dispel the treacherous lump. Eselder was perilously close now, and if he saw Blake blubbering like a …no, no, that would never do. The boy was still Jaimes Ransom’s son, which meant that he was no doubt a hoity-toity little snot too clever for his own good, and if Blake was going to be the captain of this voyage, he’d have institute a reign of terror to keep the little toerag in line.
“Keep it together, man,” Blake advised himself in a low mutter, rubbing his wet eyes like any poor, exhausted fellow might do.
Minutes later, Eselder came tramping up.
“I keep waking up and thinking that you’ve left me,” he said with a jesting air, though his face betrayed his relief.
Blake felt like a bunch of crabs were scuttling inside his stomach, but he was much better than Eselder at hiding his anxiety. He offered Eselder his best nonchalant look, which made the boy’s face turn pink. Folding his arms, he faced the ocean.
“Don’t tempt me,” he grunted, “I don’t know how I got roped into babysitting you. It’s an embarrassing role for any self-respecting pirate.”
There was a stunned pause.
“Then, you are a pirate!” Eselder exclaimed, “You lied to me!”
“Well, first I told you the truth—”
“You lied.”
“So did you, if you recall, Mr. Birkenbee,” Blake shot back, before he remembered that he was supposed to be a humble penitent. He was not very good at this.
“That’s not the s-same th-thing,” Eselder retorted. He looked troubled and frightened, just as Blake had feared he would be. “Captain Thornhill t-told me that you w-were a p-pirate, but I d-didn’t want to b-believe him…”
The way he stared at Blake made his insides shrivel up with shame, though he knew the look was deserved.
“I’m telling the truth now!” he pointed out rather desperately, “Doesn’t that count for something?”
Eselder kept staring at Blake like he expected him to start pillaging and plundering on the spot. Blake looked down at the sand, frowning like a guilty schoolboy. Then, with the barest trace of quiver, Eselder asked him, “What do you intend to do with me?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Blake replied irritably. He kicked the sand. “What do you want me to do with you?”
“Are you g-going to hold me hostage?”
“No.”
“Are you going to hold me for ransom?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me!” Eselder snarled, “I’ve been outside Kingston Court for nearly three months—”
“My goodness, nearly a lifetime.”
Eselder’s nostrils flared, even more chillingly than his father’s. “—and everybody I’ve met so far has wanted something from me! I know quite well by now that I’m nothing but a walking, talking gold sovereign to most people, and you’ve already lied to me before! Why should I trust you now?”
“Because, boy, I wouldn’t want to press your father too hard!” Blake snapped back, his well of remorse sucked quite dry. “What if he thought you weren’t worth the money and I got stuck with you forever? No, no! That wouldn’t do! Unless, of course…”
He turned to Eselder, looking very serious.
“My offer still stands, you know,” he said sheepishly, “Even though I’m a pirate. Or was a pirate…I don’t know what I am anymore.”
Eselder’s countenance softened slightly. His compassion was annoying.
“If you want to return to Kingston, I won’t stand in your way,” said Blake gruffly, “But if you don’t, I won’t be the one who forces you to go back against your will.”
The anger and suspicion faded from Eselder’s face. He tugged on his jacket sleeve, and Blake could tell he was getting ready to announce something big. He was right, for Eselder spoke up hesitantly, “To tell you the truth, I…I’ve been thinking about last night. I’m sure I sounded very spoiled.”
Blake opened his mouth, but Eselder pressed on, “And I suppose I was…anyway, I guess what I mean to say is when I woke up this morning, I realized. I can’t run away from my responsibilities. I have to go back to Kingston. To my family.”
Relief and dread crashed through Blake like opposing waves.
“I was hoping you’d accept my offer instead,” he said half-heartedly.
Eselder looked away. “Thank you. I wish I could accept it…but I know what I have to do.”
Fiddling with his jacket sleeve, he softly added, “My father and I didn’t part well. I said some things before I was pressganged that I…I didn’t think I’d ever be able to take back. Now I have that chance.”
Blake’s brow furrowed. He looked down, glaring hard. No doubt Eselder thought he was boiling mad at him, but he wasn’t. He was furious for many reasons, but Eselder wasn’t one of them.
He thought about Hawkeye. About his stolen Crown and his lost Kingship. About everything he’d gain if he went after Hawkeye, and everything he’d lose if he saw Eselder safely back to Kingston. He made his decision.
“I’ll take you,” he said.
Eselder’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Blake took a deep breath. “I’ll take you to Kingston.”
“No!” Eselder yelped, like Blake had offered to drown him, “You c-can’t take me to Kingston!”
Hiding his hurt, Blake angrily demanded, “Why not?”
“You’re a wanted pirate!” Eselder exclaimed, flailing his arms, “If my father learns that, he’ll have no choice but to…to…”
His voice trailed off. Then he continued, “I thought Thornhill h-had you executed aboard the Swift. I don’t care w-what you’ve done…I couldn’t bear it if…if that actually happened…”
Blake’s anger melted away, and fear took
its place. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that he couldn’t waltz through Kingston Palace’s double doors and be received by his estranged brother with open arms. He felt like the idiot his father had always told him he was.
“The King wouldn’t hang me,” said Blake hesitantly. There was a very bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. “Not if I brought his son back to him safe and sound...”
“He may pardon you because of that,” Eselder agreed, uneasily, “That is, if Parliament permits it. He may not be given the choice.”
Blake’s stomach twisted into a tight knot as an image of a gallows flashed through his mind. He saw that circular rope, ready to throttle the life out of him. Of all the deaths he could envision, that was the one he feared the most: that, in the end, he’d suffer the same fate as Drake Ransom’s crew and go for a dance with Jim Twining.
Blake shuddered. For a short and glorious time, he thought he could cast off the shackles of the past. Now they threatened to chain him up again…and this time, he didn’t have anyone to blame but his stupid self and his own awful, awful mistakes.
They both stood there, heads hung. Blake’s spirits sank lower and lower until they plunged back into the black fog he had just escaped from. He couldn’t stand it. Why? He felt like roaring it at the top of his lungs. After feeling, for a brief time, what it was like to be set free, to be chained back up was unbearable. His hands balled into fists, but before he completely lost it, Blake remembered what the Lady had told him before departing.
He still needs you…
Her words were like a breath of fresh air, banishing the shadows away. Blake’s shoulders drew back. His regret didn’t leave him, but the despair surrounding it did, and that was enough. It was the strangest thing…he knew that Eliothan law demanded his life as payment for his crimes, but the more he repeated the Lady’s words to himself, the more he felt a strong conviction that, if he followed the Lady’s direction and trusted her completely, everything would turn out all right. He didn’t have to be afraid of what awaited him in Kingston.