The Pirate's Apprentice

by L.M. Batstone

  Chapter 5

  John peered through a crack in the doorjamb, watching the pirates hoist barrels up through the open cargo doors, waiting for his chance to escape the captain's quarters. Around dinnertime, John saw his window of opportunity when the pirates quit for the day. As he watched the men retreat up the hatchway ladder he knew it was time to put his plan in motion.

  An adrenaline rush washed over his entire body as he turned to face his mother who was sitting at the table reading her book.

  "I'm going out to use the head," John announced as he made a sudden move to grab the door handle.

  "Not without me," Alice said. She shot out of her chair and lunged toward her son.

  "Oh, give the poor lad some space," Captain Savage said in an irritated tone. He barely looked up from his solitary game of cards.

  "I'm his mother!" Alice cried. "I'm going to make sure he comes back."

  John opened the door and slowly took a step towards freedom, then stopped as his mother quickened her pace. So far, his plan wasn't working out the same way he had imagined it. Caught in a moment of indecision, he stood in the doorway, contemplating abandoning the charade and making a run for the ladder.

  But, before he could sprint off, his mother caught him by the wrist and led him out into the crowded common room. The air was damp with the perspiration of all the anxious men who had crammed themselves into the tight space. A pungent body odor dominated the room, assaulting his nostrils and forcing John to breathe through his mouth.

  The entire crew of the Bonetta was at unease. They had been forced to sit idle while the pirates plundered their vessel. A constant murmur of unhappy grumbles and soft voices wafted about the room from groups of men that were scattered about, playing cards and sipping grog from their battered, tin mugs. The men paid little attention to John and his mother as they pushed their way past them.

  John stopped at the doorway of the partially unloaded hold. From under the ladder he could hear pirates up on deck talking and laughing. They must be guarding the hatchway, John thought.

  "I'll go first," Alice said suddenly. "You stay here where I can see you."

  John's heart fluttered with excitement. This was his chance. While she was busy, he could escape up the ladder. And with luck, John thought, the guards will let me by.

  John waited, his body taut with tension as his mother walked past him. He focused his attention on the voices above him and tried to guess who was up there.

  "The capt'n wants someone to go down and extend an invitation to those who may want to join us. I saw two slaves earlier. Make sure they know that tha're welcome ta come over to the Sultana. An tell the big one the capt'n wants a word."

  John almost fainted as what he heard sank in. I could become a pirate too, he suddenly realized. He looked up the ladder, then back towards his mother. It was difficult to see her in the darkness, but he knew she could see him easily from the head.

  "Stay where you are, John," she called.

  Ignoring his mother, John waited for one of the pirates to come down the ladder before he started his way up.

  "John!" his mother yelled.

  He could hear her scrambling to get off the head. It would only be a moment before she was on him again.

  He climbed faster, and when he reached the hatchway opening he surprised a stout-looking pirate who was about to come down. The round-bellied man let John climb onto the deck before starting his descent, blocking Alice, who was about to come up.

  The sudden appearance of the pirate startled Alice. She gasped in horror and quickly retreated to the safety of the captain's quarters. John breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her go.

  "Tired of bein' down below, eh?" a man growled.

  John spun to see Hendrick. The man smiled, but it didn't touch his dark brown eyes, which seemed to have a malevolent spark. In fact, his expression was far from jovial. It was as if the man's lips were stuck in a permanent sneer, even when he was smiling.

  John took a deep breath as he gathered enough courage to speak. His eyes focused on the many scars that ran in thin lines across Hendrick's umber cheeks like whiskers and wondered if they were self-inflicted.

  "I heard you talking about letting people from the Bonetta come with you. I want to join too," John finally blurted.

  Hendrick laughed a mighty guffaw, then said, "I doubt the capt'n would take ye on. Accordin' to the Pirate Code neither pups nor wenches are allowed to join the fair trade."

  "I'm not a pup! I'll be a man soon. I'm almost ten," he lied. His ninth birthday had been just the month before, in October.

  "Ten! Well then, that makes all the difference. Ye best ask the capt'n," Hendrick growled. "He's over on the Sultana. Why don't ye go thar, an' pester 'im."

  John hesitated as he looked towards the pirate ship. He had a sneaking suspicion Hendrick was trying to get rid of him, but he wanted very much to talk to the captain.

  Suddenly, Hendrick cuffed John across the back of his head with an open palm, sending him flying forward. Shocked by the blow, John stumbled, but quickly regained his balance as he let the momentum shoot him towards his destination. Keeping his eyes forward, John ducked and ran towards the gangplanks that connected the two ships and hoped the man would leave him alone.

  As he scampered over the planks, he made a mental note to never turn his back on the pirate first mate again. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder to see if the menace was following and let out a breath of relief when he saw Hendrick had disappeared.

  Although the threat was gone, John could feel his body shaking from shock, but he pushed himself to continue. He took his first step onto the Sultana's deck and felt the last of his courage ebb away like an evaporating pool of water on a hot day. He froze. A few pirates, standing at the bow, turned to leer at him with hungry eyes. He took a step back, but then, noticed a four-foot-tall man swabbing the pine deck with a dirty mop.

  The small man stopped working for a moment and made eye contact with John, his expression was curious, not hostile. The little man's stature gave John hope. If a tiny man like this could be allowed to join, then surely Captain Black Sam would be likely to take me on too, John thought, feeling hope rise in his chest.

  "What do ye want?" the small pirate asked in a surprised tone.

  "I've come to talk to Captain Black Sam Bellamy," John said.

  "He's in thar," the small pirate said, pointing to the above-deck cabin with the mop handle. The man quickly began swabbing the deck again as though he just remembered he had to be elsewhere.

  Feeling encouraged, John walked slowly to the stern of the ship where the captain's door waited for him. The Sultana was twice the size of the Bonetta. It was a two-masted sloop with the navigation wheel on top of the captain's quarters. Two ladders led up to the empty helm on either side of the cabin, leaving only enough room for a narrow, red door in between.

  John stopped at the door and hesitated for a moment, listening for movement within. He took a deep breath and knocked three times. No one answered right away. But as John listened, he could hear murmured voices and then footsteps coming towards the door. His heart began to hammer inside his chest.

  "Blast it all! Who's thar?" called an annoyed voice, just before the door swung open. The man standing in the doorway was not the captain. He was a short, heavy man with a receding brown hairline, and small, squinty green eyes partially hidden behind square, gold-rimmed, reading glasses.

  "Who's this?" the man asked, as he stooped to examine John's face. The pirate's breath stank of rum and salt pork.

  "Well, let me see, Mr. Noland. Don't jus' stand thar gawking," the captain's voice said from within.

  The man stepped aside. Captain Black Sam was sitting on a chair leaning against the wall, his bare feet resting on top of a table littered with papers, maps and charts. His faded black tricorn hat hung from a wall hook above his head. The man had a look John imagined a prince would have, a strong jaw, straight nose and the kind of expression w
hich radiated confidence and charm. His long, black, curly hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, away from his face.

  John swallowed hard and took a step inside the doorway. The cabin was a luxurious space compared to Captain Savage's quarters. There was a finely decorated Turkish rug at the center of the room. Over it stood a bed, large enough for two. It was covered in thick layers of varying hues of purple velvet with four royal-looking pillows piled high against a mahogany headboard decorated with a carved floral design. A large, ornately carved mahogany wardrobe with a similar design stood against the far wall and a matching chest sat at the foot of the bed.

  Looming over it all, a large ominous painting of a ship navigating a dark and stormy sea hung over the headboard. Purple silk curtains hung over the port windows, obscuring the late afternoon sun, giving the room a dim, moody feel. The air inside was stifling; a choking haze of tobacco smoke hung from the ceiling, stinging John's eyes.

  "That's the young pup from the Bonetta," the captain said sounding surprised. "What do ye want puppy?"

  "I heard you're looking for recruits," John said.

  "Aye and … ye have someone in mind?"

  "Yes, me!"

  "Ha!" the captain laughed, he slapped his thigh and leaned forward. "Puppies don't belong at sea!"

  The captain took a moment to take a drag of his pipe, all the while his eyes swept John from head to toe as if he didn't know what to make of the child, tobacco smoke drifted lazily out of one nostril. After a sip of grog from his coconut chalice, he dismissed John with a curt shooing gestured made with the back of his hand.

  "I'm not a puppy!" John cried in despair, knowing that he had lost the man's interest.

  "No? Prove it," the captain slurred, his bloodshot blue eyes widening.

  Suddenly, it became clear that the captain was drunk. John felt frustration build inside him as tears sprang unwanted to his eyes.

  "I will!" John cried, and stomped out of the room in a fit of rage.

  The two men laughed as if they had just been privy to the funniest thing they had ever seen. Mr. Noland was doubled over with mirth, tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks as he shut the door. John stood staring at the red door, not knowing what to do next, his eyes continued to sting. Humiliated, he ran back to the Bonetta, rubbing his eyes and avoiding the gaze of the pirates milling about the deck.

  By the time he reached the Bonetta's hatchway, his tears were creeping over his flushed cheeks. He angrily wiped them away with dirty fingertips and hoped no one saw. There were two pirates guarding the hatchway ladder, so John kept his gaze down, not wanting to see the smug expression on their faces.

  Once he was safely past the intrusive gaze of the guards, he descended the ladder slowly. Suddenly, he wasn't in a hurry for the rest of the crew to see him in the state he was in. Despite his best effort, his tears were falling faster than before. At the bottom of the ladder, he took a moment to calm himself by taking a few deep breaths. Then, he dried his face with his shirtsleeve before entering the common room.

  Again, the stench of unwashed men assaulted his nostrils as he stepped into the crowded room. Thankfully, not a single man took noticed of him. A loud argument was going on near the captain's door. He pushed his way through, curios to see what all the commotion was about. As he reached the galley wall, he had a better view of what was going on.

  The man doing most of the yelling was Mr. Wicker. His face was bright red with rage, which was in stark contrast with his bristly, white beard. Captain Savage stood, nearby in his doorway, listening to the commotion, his face degenerating into a frustrated scowl.

  Hendrick and two of his flunkies were in the center of the group. The pirates held their flintlock pistols, one in each hand, on the crowd, while Hendrick searched Mr. Wicker's pockets.

  "Where's the key, old man?" Hendrick sneered as he patted down Mr. Wicker's vest pockets. "Just give 'em to me," he said impatiently.

  "They're my property. You can't have 'em. I paid good money for 'em," Mr. Wicker bellowed. Clearly, he had no intention of giving up. He tried to swat Hendricks's hands away from his waistcoat.

  Hendrick grabbed Mr. Wicker by the back of his neck and forced his face to the floor.

  "No man should own another," Hendrick hissed. "An' they want ta come with us."

  The two slaves were moving through the back of the crowd towards the pirates, their manacles clanging with every step.

  Hendrick pulled out a flintlock and pressed the barrel to his victim's temple.

  "Now I'm not askin' ye. I'm tellin'," he said as he cocked the firing pin.

  "Here, take 'em." Mr. Wicker reached inside his waistcoat and produced a set of iron keys.

  Hendrick snatched the keys.

  "Ah," Hendrick said. He slammed the man's face into the floor and stood up. Dangling the keys from one finger, he sauntered over to the slaves and threw the keys to the African man, his eyes sparkling with emotion.

  The African man had the reflexes of a leopard. He snatched the keys from midair and immediately began unlocking his wrist irons. They opened with a satisfying click and fell, clattering to the floor. With deft fingers, he began work on the underfed, teenage boy's shackles.

  John felt sorry for the boy. He was naked except for a tiny, dirty loincloth wrapped around his waist. And the boy was so skinny the shape of his skull and ribs were visible underneath his dark skin as if some great force was sucking at him from the inside. The boy had the vacant look of the defeated in his brown eyes. But a slight smile emerged on his thin brown lips as his shackles fell away.

  The African man dropped the keys on the floor next to the heap of iron that had once bound them both. Neither the man nor the teenage boy took a second look at Mr. Wicker, huddled on the floor, as they walked through the crowd to the ladder.

  "Tha're off to join Robin Hood's men," Hendrick said with the theatrical air of a circus ringmaster. "Any of ye land lubbers could, too. A buccaneer could earn his weight in gold once he's joined up with Captain Bellamy and his crew. Among his fellow privateers, he's known as the Prince of Pirates. An' his men call themselves Robin Hood's men fer good cause, aye they do. We steal from the rich an' give to the poor, the poor bein' ourselves of course. Har! An' most importantly! All men are equal, according to pirate law, on the Sultana."

  Hendrick sashayed to the ladder and took a few steps up before he turned to add, "Think on it men. Yer fortune awaits ye." And with that, he quickly climbed the ladder with the two other pirates following closely behind him.

  Hendricks's recruitment speech roused an even keener interest in John. The words 'Robin Hood's men' echoed in his mind. I was right all along. Some pirates are more civil than others. Captain Savage was wrong, he realized with a surge of intense happiness.

  John envied the two former slaves. His mind churned with ways to prove himself to Black Sam. He thought about destroying the mainsail of the Bonetta with his knife and setting his gunpowder ablaze in the common room. That would certainly get him a lot of attention, but would it get him on the pirate ship? He wasn't certain. Neither idea really appealed to him. He didn't want to hurt anyone, and most importantly, he didn't want to upset Captain Savage.

  And yet, he had to prove his worth somehow. John thought hard as he walked towards the captain's door, where Captain Savage was waiting for him. As soon as he stepped past the captain, his mother began bombarding him with questions.

  "How dare you defy me? Where did you run off to? How could you do that to me? I was worried sick. What has gotten into you? You used to be such a good boy."

  "I went to talk to Captain Black Sam," John stated coolly.

  "What!" Alice cried. "Why?"

  "I want to be a pirate."

  His mother inhaled sharply, bringing her hands to her mouth as she took a step back from her son. She stared at him for a moment with disbelief in her eyes. Then, the rage that had colored her cheeks only moments ago began to drain away. John could tell from the look of terror on her f
ace that she was at a total loss for words.

  Finally, after blinking back tears, she wailed, "You can't. You can't just go off and become a pirate. That's ludicrous."

  "Yes, I can," John said, stomping one foot. "I can and I will."

  "Stop this lad. Ye're upsetting yer mum," Captain Savage commanded.

  John turned his attention from his mother to the captain and watched the man reclaim his seat at the table. Captain Savage seemed to shrink into the chair as he sat, his shoulders slumped into the hunched posture of the weak and defeated. Not long ago, John had admired the man, but now he felt sorry for the broken-down shell of the man he once was.

  "Don't worry Mrs. King. They'll never take him on as a pirate. He's too young," the captain consoled.

  "I just don't know what's gotten into him," Alice sat beside the captain, cradling her face in her palms. After a moment, she reached for a lacey white fan lying on the table and began using it to cool the recently renewed flush on her cheeks.

  "He's just restless. Once ye reach Jamaica, he'll forget all about this nonsense," the captain said. He picked up a dog-eared deck of cards and began to shuffle them.

  Alice nodded. "I hope your right," she agreed.

  Surprised his mother had turned her attention from him so soon. John retreated to his hammock to think more on what he needed to do to gain Black Sam's favor. There had to be something he could do that would convince the captain to take him along.

  John thought long and hard about his situation, but his eyelids were heavy and sleep came before any real solutions could be found.