The Pirate King

by J. P. Sheen

  “I’m taking you to Kingston,” he declared in a tone of finality.

  “I refuse to accept your help!” Eselder hastily retorted.

  “Refuse away. I’ve never obeyed the royal command.”

  “I’d never forgive myself if—”

  “It ain’t all about you, Your Highness! In fact, if you prefer, we can travel to Kingston separately! How does that sound? Good luck getting there alive without me! But I’m going to Kingston Palace, whether or not I have to babysit a cheeky little toerag along the way, and I’m going to bang on its ivory doors—”

  “Burnished bronze.”

  “—on its burnished bronze doors until someone lets me the hell inside!”

  “That’s unlikely,” Eselder muttered.

  “And if they don’t, I’ll blast my way in!” Blake declared, “I have some unfinished business with your father.”

  “My father? The King?” Eselder sounded flabbergasted. “The King of Elioth?”

  “Aye, that four-eyed, silk-shod, self-righteous prig!”

  Eselder’s expression suggested that he had no idea how to respond to such an irreverent description of His Royal Majesty King Jaimes the Fourth.

  “I…he…you…what business could you possibly have with the King?”

  Summoning every shred and scrap of courage he possessed, Blake said, “Sit down, Eselder.”

  “Why?”

  Blake bit back a harsh retort. His limbs were all jittery and his heart was aflutter, for this revelation was far harder than admitting his piratical past. He replied heavily, “I have another story to tell you.”

  Eselder shot him a penetrating look. Then, without another word, he sat down on the sand and wrapped his arms around his knees. Blake sat down beside him and glared at the ocean. Where could he even begin? Not with himself. That was too hard, too painful.

  Blake opened his mouth and forced himself to speak.

  He told Eselder a fantastic tale, about an Eliothan princess who’d been swept off her feet by a dashing young pirate. How she had abandoned her family and her nation to elope with her lover, only to realize her terrible mistake when he showed himself for the villain he really was. How the pirate captain had left his newly wedded wife on an uncharted island—his crew’s secret haven—and how, soon afterward, she had borne him a son. How he had come and gone for years until eventually there were two little boys running around Moanamiri.

  “I can tell you their names too. The little bloke was Blake Percimillus Ransom. And his brother…that was Jaimes. Jaimes Wilhelm Fitzgeorge Ransom.”

  Eselder’s eyes grew round as saucers.

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he whispered, looking like he wanted to believe Blake but didn’t want to be made a fool of. Blake scratched his chin. He supposed this was all rather sudden.

  “Just wait until we reach Kingston,” he replied breezily, “I’m sure your father’s reaction to my piratical presence will be very convincing.”

  “My father never said a word about having a brother,” said Eselder slowly. He asked suspiciously, “Are you pulling my leg?”

  “Why would I do that?” Blake demanded, “You think I want to be related to you or that barnacle-eyed clotpole? That’s right, boy, I know your father’s blind as a bat! He started taking off his spectacles in public when he became King. S’pose he still does that, then? And I’m guessing he still fingers that stupid pocket watch? It’s a nervous habit of his. He’s fussy about his handkerchiefs, too; they have to be starched stiff, and woe to the man who slurps his tea in His Majesty’s presence! There’s no point in speaking to him in the morning because he’s an intolerable grump, so if you want something, you’d do better to wait until he’s congratulating himself for something clever he’s done.”

  The longer he spoke, the more Eselder looked convinced. He even started to smile, and Blake could tell that his description, based on decades-old observations, was still accurate.

  “He likes almond tarts, new quill pens, and his own handwriting. He keeps a bottle of liquor in his study because it looks sophisticated, but he doesn’t drink a smidgeon of it. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone else in the room, and that’s because he usually is. In his defense, though…he honestly cares about the common welfare and tries to do the right thing. He takes his responsibilities seriously, especially when that responsibility is a person. He’s not very expressive by way of affection, but he shows it by providing all the things he wanted so badly as a boy: fine clothes, a safe home, a top-notch education…does this sound like anyone you know, boy?”

  Eselder glanced at Blake. His eyes were suspiciously wet.

  “It would explain several things,” he admitted quietly, “Like why my father never talked about his father. He spoke about his mother from time to time, but the one time I asked about my grandfather, I got hushed up. I always figured it was some sort of scandal…and probably a very interesting story…”

  Blake cleared his throat.

  “Never mind,” said Eselder hastily, waving his hand, “This...this is a lot to digest. Go on, please, with your story.”

  Blake picked up where he had left off, describing how Drake Ransom had taken a Navy captain prisoner and brought him back to Moanamiri for sport. He watched Eselder’s eyes light up with wonder and pride as he related how Jaimes had stood up to his father and valiantly defended the Navy captain. With pain in his own eyes, Blake described how the Eliothan Royal Navy had tracked Drake Ransom back to Moanamiri and, not finding him there, had destroyed his haven but spared his two sons, taking them back with them to Elioth.

  He spoke of their struggles in Yaletown, how for three years he and Jaimes had lived in a cold, leaky attic room while Jaimes provided for them both, working hard in Master Simmon’s shop from morning to nightfall to put food on the table. At that, Eselder looked down at his knees with a solemn, troubled frown.

  Blake continued with his story, relating how Jaimes had succeeded in delivering his mother’s letter to the ailing King George the Sixth, who had sent the Head of Parliament (and a squad of soldiers) to escort his estranged daughter’s only son to Kingston Court.

  “Only son?” piped up Eselder, “I thought you said you were brothers!”

  Blake nodded. “Drake Ransom was our father.”

  Eselder’s eyebrows drew in. “But I don’t understand, why did you say…oh…”

  He looked like he wished he could bury himself beneath the sand.

  “Oh…”

  Blake saw no reason to elaborate on that any further, so instead he related how Jaimes had forced his younger brother to accompany him to Kingston Court. How Blake had hated it there. How the rift between them had grown and grown until, one day, their relationship had shattered completely. How Jaimes had sent him to Cribbshire Abbey, how Blake had escaped a few days after his arrival there, and how Jaimes had never seen or heard from him again…until, many years later, King Jaimes the Fourth had heard tell of a new menace to the Eliothan Crown: a pirate, who went by the name of Blake Ransom.

  “Then the pirate got pressganged into the Royal Navy and met this irritating lump of a boy who got him flogged, hung, and…what’s the matter with you, boy? Why are you smiling? This is a deeply moving and highly tragic story!”

  Eselder stopped grinning.

  “I was paying attention!” he protested quickly, “Actually, it’s quite a bit to take in…”

  He glanced at his uncle as though reveling in his familial luck of the draw. Blake was delighted.

  “But when I saw the water, I couldn’t help but think about what you said last night. About how I wasn’t made for the shallows.”

  Eselder sounded shy, and rather proud.

  “Aye…?” said Blake. They were getting off the subject. “And?”

  “And that’s funny…because I never learned to swim.”

  A wicked grin lit up Blake’s features. His expression stayed frozen like that until Eselder noticed it. With great delight, Blake saw fea
r flash across his face.

  “No time like the present,” Blake declared, and sprang into action.

  Grabbing Eselder’s collar, he dragged the yelping, protesting boy toward the water and, summoning all his strength, flung him in with a gigantic splash! A second later, Eselder came up, shivering and spluttering, to behold Blake coming at him with outstretched arms and a truly terrifying smile. Hollering like mad, Eselder splashed back ashore and then shot like a bullet down the beach.

  By now, the sky was a bedazzling tangle of color and light, the ocean ablaze with golden fire, the sun shooting its blinding rays across a cloudless, crystal-blue sky.

  Blake pursued him, and it was only then that he realized: his stripes were gone. His back was whole and hale once more, and Blake could well guess its healer. With a smile, he looked up at the full moon, still bright and beautiful in the daylight. His eyes flashed like lightning.

  Then, spraying sand in every direction, he took off after his cabin boy, roaring with laughter as he went.

  About the Author

  J. P. Sheen enjoys writing and drinking espresso-based beverages. For a long time, she’s dreamed of living in an underground cavern or by the sea. She’s given up the former idea but not the latter. Currently, however, she lives in Texas, which is nice too. This is her first novel.