The Only Life For Me (Tales Of A Navigator): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories

by Cristi Taijeron

  As we drank down our pitcher of ale, we talked and talked, laughing and joking like we had known each other all along. Sometime during the second pitcher, our friendly conversation turned to flirting. I told her I liked that scar on her chest, and she told me how much she adored the way my green eyes stood out against my golden tanned skin. Soon enough she started running her fingers along my light brown ponytail, and told me she liked the sun-streaked shades of blond in my locks.

  Just as I started thinking I could get more than a buzz out of my night with her, my cranky old father started walking in my direction. Reaching our table, he tipped his hat to Tallie, “Mi’lady,” then said to me, “Time to go.”

  As much as I wanted to dispute his order, I figured he would embarrass me more if I did.

  Standing up, I tipped Tallie for the drinks, and the service. There was so much I still wanted to say to her, but with my father standing at my back, I only nodded to her as I put my hat on, and bid her a good night.

  Following my father out of the bar, drunk as could be, I steamed over the way I always ended up behind him. Kicking pebbles, and grunting like the alley dogs we passed along the way, I mumbled to myself about this common occurrence.

  Once again, I was towed in the wake of the fearsome Mason Bentley. His shoulders were so broad that no one could see me behind him, and his voice was so loud that no one could hear me over him. He held me down with his overbearing authority and kept me in line with his firm hand. If I wasn’t at work under his vigorous command, I was sitting around waiting for him, and I was tired of it.

  As if I wasn’t irritated enough, I realized I was following him down the cobblestone alleyway that led to Marla’s house. I hated it there. The small room was crowded with gaudy décor, and she always smelled like too much perfume. A minute at that place was too long for me, and every time we would finally get to head out the door, she would cry and beg for him to stay.

  Marla had to know by now that she wasn’t my father's only mistress, and she should have figured out that he didn’t visit her for companionship. Regardless of what she should have known, she made it ridiculously obvious that she’d do anything for the old man, or his bastard son for that matter. She seemed to think it would increase her chances of getting him to stay if she was sweet to me, but no matter how nice or helpful she was, I didn’t care for the old wench or the annoying compliments she doted over me with. We didn’t need her, and he wasn’t staying.

  Coming upon the door to her flat, I thought about how much I respected everything about the man my father was. Feeling eager to gain an equal standard of respect from him, I decided it was time to let him know I was done walking in his shadow.

  As he reached out to knock on the door, I snapped, “I’m not going in there. No way. She can grab at you all she wants, but I’m tired of the old hag pinching my cheeks.”

  He popped me in the mouth with a light slap. “Watch the way you talk about the woman who’s making your bed and cooking your supper.”

  “I don’t want to have supper here. I hate it here, and I’d rather sleep in a dusty old hammock than in that bed she makes for me.”

  Turning to knock on the door he laughed, “Too bad. I like her cooking, and the feather bed I sleep in here.”

  Infuriated by the way he laughed at me for making my stand, I felt my blood boiling in frustration. Would he ever take me seriously, I wondered, then continued to dispute his domination just to prove that he should. “You don’t like her cooking. It’s awful, awful I say! You might have to lie to her to get under her skirts, but you can’t fool me. And I am tired of you trying to. You expect me to carry myself like a man, no crying and no complaining, yet you call me boy and treat me like a child, and I’m done with—”

  “You want me to treat you like a man, aye?” He interrupted my outburst with a hefty shove.

  While flying back from the force, I saw Marla open her door. Grabbing his arm, she tried to tell him to leave me alone, but he flung her off. “Get back, wench. This has nothing to do with you.”

  Steady on my feet, I lifted my fists and rolled them around. “Aye, that’s what I want. I’m not afraid of you anymore. And if you want the proof, I’ll fight you right now.”

  Standing as stout as ever, he let out an exhausted chuckle, “Are you sure this is what you want to do with your night, Sterling?”

  “Without a doubt!” I took a step in his direction. “Fisticuffs, me and you.”

  He lifted his fists the same, and started circling around me. “All right. Bring it on, big boy.”

  Having seen the damage his massive fists could inflict upon a man’s face, I felt regret creep into my mind. But I couldn’t back down now. I made my stand and I’d have to follow through, or lose his respect forevermore.

  Charging in his direction, I swung a punch at his face. Whipping his head to the side like a viper, he dodged the blow. Stumbling from the miss, I quickly caught my footing, ducked below the fists he was still holding firm, and pushed him with all my might. It felt like I ran myself into a brick wall.

  Next thing I knew, I was flying backwards, again. This time I almost fell over. Enraged by the shame I felt over my failure, I rushed him once more, ramming into his gut with my shoulder. The moment I made contact with his solid body, he spun me around and tossed me into a wall that was as hard as his gut.

  Before I had a chance to turn around, he grabbed the back of my coat and pulled me towards him. Somehow, I managed to slip out of his grip. Fearing that he’d do more than throw me this time, I swung a desperate punch at his face. The moment my knuckles pummeled against his eye, I heard him laugh. Infuriated by his mockery, I served a punch to his mouth. His head flew back from the blow. Blood rushed from his lip, which made me think I should run from him. Before I made another move, he twisted my arm behind my back, swooped my feet out from under me, and slammed me face first onto the ground.

  Dreading the attack that would surely follow, I kicked and flailed as he shoved his knee into the middle of my back to pin me down. Wrapping his right hand in my hair, he pressed my face against the cobblestones, and used his left hand to brace my arm in place. With my free hand, I still tried to hit him, hoping to somehow get him off of me.

  Smashing my face against the ground so hard I thought he would crush my skull, he shouted in my ear, “That’s enough! Don’t make me have to knock you out.”

  Attempting to sound as fierce as I could with my cheek pressed against the ground, I roared, “It’s not enough. It will never be enough until I defeat you!”

  He squeezed my locks so tight that if I moved, my scalp would surely detach from my skull. “Shut the hell up, Sterling. You lost this fight. You need to know when to shut your damn mouth.”

  Even if I was able to move, there was nowhere to go, and no matter how much I still wanted to argue, there was nothing left to say. He was right. He was always bloody right.

  Feeling him slowly lift his weight off of me, I let out a breath of relief, but being ashamed of my failure, I figured I would just stay there on the ground forever.

  Once again, he had other plans for me.

  Yanking me up by the arm, he demanded, “Get the hell up. No son of mine will be caught lying facedown in defeat.”

  As I got steady on my feet, I turned to face him. His eye was swollen, and his lip was still bleeding. I might not have beaten him, but at least I left my mark.

  Pointing at my face, he spoke with the same tone he used to address his crew. “Straighten up those shoulders and wipe that look of sorrow off your face. You just took on a man twice your size, one who has years of experience on you, and my face hurts like hell. You may not have defeated me, but you put up a damn good fight, and you ought to take pride in your brazen bout of courage, instead of sniveling in humiliation.”

  His voice was as stern as ever, and his tone was condescending as hell, yet I sensed the compliment in his words. Unsure of where he was headed with this, I kinked my head to the side.

 
“Straighten up, toe the line, and listen here.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a bag of money, then took one of his pistols off his belt. Handing them to me, he said, “Go do whatever the hell you want to do. I don’t need you following me around anymore. But, as your captain, I command you to meet me behind the dock house at midnight, and not a moment thereafter, or we’ll sail away without you.”

  Sail away? Where were we going, I wondered, but I was too stunned by the night’s events to ask. Unsure of what to say about any of this, I just nodded my head as I wiped the dirt off my aching face.

  “Before you go, remember, the rest of this world will not go as easy on you as I did. Now, shoo,” he said, then turned away from me and headed for Marla’s door. Putting his arm over her shoulder, he said to her, “That damn boy is as fire-hearted as his mother was.”

  Stroking his long goatee, the old wench giggled, “And he’s just as handsome as you.”

  Happy as hell to leave those two behind, I began my strut down the alley. For the first time in my life, I was free to go where I wanted in the night. But there was no need to debate my new heading. I wanted to see Tallie again.

  X

  Entering the tavern, I looked around to find the girl of my desire. Not seeing her anywhere, I shrugged my shoulders, and instead joined a group of men at the bar. While drinking together, we talked about our adventures at sea. I had been as many places and fought as many storms as the weathered old dogs, and I had them laughing at my tales as much as I laughed at theirs. Best of all, one of them had been navigating the seas for years, and he was more than willing to answer all my questions about his knowledge of the trade and the routes he had charted.

  After a while of drinking ale, I saw Tallie. Serving a group of groggy old sailors at the other end of the bar, she was smiling and flirting with them—much like she was with me earlier this eve. But I didn’t care.

  Saying good night to the sailors, I headed in her direction. Walking across the barroom, I realized just how drunk I was. My surroundings were mostly a hazy fog and it felt like I was walking on clouds, and when I sloppily leaned against the bar where Tallie stood, I slurred like an imbecile, “Good thing you’re here still.”

  She giggled, then offered her own sloppy greeting, “Good thing you’re still drunk, too, because so am I.”

  It could have been a drunken delusion, but I thought her smile for me was far more sincere than it was for the other men she was serving. Taking her hand like I was some kind of gentleman, I kissed her knuckles and said, “Maybe we should drink more and get drunker together.”

  “I like that idea.” She filled us a pitcher and sat on the stool beside me. After cheering and drinking, she reached toward the welt on my face and made a pouty expression. “Whatever did you get yourself into in such a short time?”

  Remembering the way my father smashed my face against the cobblestones, I laughed a little, but I didn’t dare mention that the damage was caused by him or his need to put me in my place. Instead, I told her my captain pulled me out of here earlier so we could put someone else in his place. I ended my exaggerated tale by stating that the man wouldn’t act up against his captain again, and chuckled to myself knowing that part of the story was true.

  While sipping on our ale, we talked and laughed like we had earlier, but before long, I found myself following her through the tavern. Next thing I knew we were kissing in the hall and stumbling up the stairs, unable to keep our hands off of each other.

  The moment we entered her room, I pressed her up against the wall and kissed her—her lips, her cheeks, and then down her neck. While sucking and licking all over those pretty tits, I attempted to take her clothes off, but I had no idea how to get her out of all those lacy layers. Sparing me of the chore, she stripped herself of her clothing and then removed mine as well. Once there was nothing but our skin between us, she pulled me down onto her bed. The feel of her bare skin against mine, and the sight of her biting her lip as she squirmed and sighed beneath me, was enough for me to know that it wouldn’t take long at all. And it didn’t.

  Flopping down next to her, covered in sweat and breathing up a gale, I chuckled to myself. It didn’t matter to me that the best time of my life was less than a five minute experience, because I was as satisfied as could be. Though I could have spent the rest of my final hours ashore, lying here with my arm over her bare belly, I felt no need to complain when she suggested that we go at it again.

  The next part of the hour was spent in a turbid tangle of sweat and desire. Her room was small and the bed was smaller, but as we entwined together on her sheets—grabbing and moaning, kissing and touching—space was the last thing I wanted. As I moved in and out of her, she breathed my name like she knew me, and as she wrapped her legs around my waist, I kissed her like I loved her, but I knew it was all just a steamy fog of wanton lust. And that was fine with me.

  Once I finally managed to pry her off of me, I got up and began gathering my belongings.

  Propping her head up with her hand, she talked to me as I got dressed. Liking the way we got along as much as I liked the way she looked lying there in the flickering candlelight—the smooth shape of her hips and thighs silhouetted under the sheet, and hair that had been done up so nicely, now hanging wildly around her blushing face—I wished I didn’t have to leave at all. But it was almost midnight, and there was nothing in this world that would keep me from catching that ship—whichever one it was and wherever the hell it was headed.

  Dressed and ready, I kissed her on the cheek and then left my bag of loot on her bedside table. It was more than she was due, but I liked her, and thought that maybe it would help her get to that better future she hoped for.

  As I headed for the door, she opened the bag and gasped, “Sterling. You didn’t have to do this.”

  With my hand on the knob, I said, “And you didn’t have to be so sweet, but you were.”

  Hugging her pillow, she sighed, “Thank you, Sterling Bentley. I will never forget you.”

  Though I would never forget her either—the feel of her hands rubbing all over me, or the sound of her erotic cadence lilting beneath me—I was fine with the fact that I might never see her again. There were plenty more shores with plenty more women, but there was only one horizon, and the open ocean awaited me. The sea would forever be my favored wench.

  X

  Walking the darkened street on my own, with the scent of a woman’s perfume lingering on my collar, I realized why Mason didn’t mind Marla’s overbearing aroma. My body was buzzing with the greatest satisfaction I had ever experienced, and I liked the scented reminder of that ardent memory. Hell, the more I thought back on the night’s events, the more I came to understand my father altogether. Now that I had experienced the taste of a woman and felt my first dose of freedom, I completely understood why Mason Bentley didn’t let any man tell him what to do, and why there was no woman that could make him stay. The old man had it all figured out.

  I was looking forward to telling him about my night out, but when I found him with his crewmen, huddled in a dark corner behind the dock house, I realized I’d have to share my stories with him later. Straightening my shoulders, I approached the group like I was another full grown man among them.

  Patting me on the back, Captain Bentley introduced me to the few men I did not recognize. “For those of you who haven’t met him yet, this here is Sterling Bentley. He’ll be our navigator.”

  He’d elected me as his navigator! Ah, this night kept getting better. Resisting the childish grin threatening to sprout upon my lips, I shook hands with the new recruits. Most of them were savvy enough to take note of my age, but only one of the bastards decided to question me. “Eh, you’re just a boy. What the hell do you know about the tides?”

  Glaring at the ugly man, I asserted, “I reckon I know more than a beef-witted maumet like you. So, unless you can shimmy a draft through the shoals at night, or chart your path according to the stars, I suggest you shut your toothless
old mouth.”

  The men laughed at my comeback, but the greatest note of approval was within my father’s silence. Instead of interfering with my conflicts as he often did, he simply nodded at me, and then silenced the laughter of his men by saying, “Each of us has our place here, and neither age, race, or religion will divide us once we sign the articles.”

  Articles? All my life I had heard stories about my father’s life as a buccaneer, and I knew the Articles of Agreement to be the contract that bound together the Brethren of the Coast. Within this law of their own, each man who was accountable to the code, was granted freedom, equality, and fair shares of the prizes they acquired. I had always been enamored with the idea of this lifestyle, and as I’d often dreamed of becoming one of Mason Bentley’s buccaneers, I felt my heart rate speed up as he opened the pages of his journal.

  Could this truly be it, I wondered, as I watched him flip through the book.

  Soon enough, he tore out one of the pages, and held it up for all of us to see. Yes, this was truly happening.

  My eyes widened like they never had before as I read the words under the faint glow of moonlight, and I listened closer than I ever had as he relayed the articles to those in the group who could not read.

  Brethren Of The Coast

  Captain Mason Bentley’s Crew

  I. Every man sworn by book & mirror to be true to these articles, & to his shipmates, is to have a vote in matters of importance. He who is not sworn shall not vote.

  II. Captain & Quartermaster are to have two shares of a prize, the Sailing Master, Boatswain, Gunner & Surgeon, one share & a half. Other officers one & a quarter share.

  III. No person to game at cards or dice for money.

  IV. Any man not keeping his arms clean, fit for an engagement, or neglect his business, shall be cut off from his share and suffer such other punishment the Captain and Company shall think fit.

  V. Any man that attempts to jump ship or keeps secrets from the Company shall be marooned with one bottle of powder, one bottle of water, one pistol and one shot.