Lackbeard

by Cody B. Stewart

“Uh, Carter?” Yvette pointed at a console. “You just need to turn the power on.”

  Despite the ketch’s retro look, it had all the modern-day amenities of any of today’s ships, including a powerful engine.

  “And you might want to save the ‘sea is mine’ talk until we at least get away from the dock,” Darla said.

  Carter cleared the pirate from his voice. “Right, totally.” He pressed the power button, and the engine roared to life. “Arrr,” he said quietly to himself, and his smile stretched all the way to the horizon.

  The boat inched away from the dock, Yvette at the helm. She was the only one who actually knew her way around a boat. Not that Carter minded. He couldn’t stop staring out at…everything. The sun dancing on the water. The ripples on the ocean’s surface, how they distorted the world above. The sails of all the passing sailboats as they fluttered in the breeze. The birds dipping and soaring. The horizon and everything just on the other side of it.

  He didn’t know how far they traveled before Yvette cut the engines. The harbor was long behind them. So was the orphanage and Ms. Roberts and the Valley Forge Military Academy. For the first time in a long time (maybe ever) he felt free.

  “So now we’re in the middle of the ocean,” Brad said. “How long before we start eating each other?”

  “Now that you mention it, I am rather hungry,” Louis said, rubbing his stomach. “Did anyone bring sandwiches?”

  “We can worry about food once we find Eleuthera,” Darla said. “How far is it, anyway?”

  “No idea,” Yvette said. “I don’t even know if we’re going the right way. We need a compass or something. Some maps.”

  The conversation quickly devolved into a chaotic mass of voices, everyone talking over each other. And quicker than the wind changes, they were arguing. Just like everyone always argued. The way people argued on land where they had curfews and grownups told them what to do and drill sergeants tried to send them to war and parents were dead and they had nothing to call their own.

  But they were at sea now.

  “Avast ye!” Carter shouted.

  The arguing stopped immediately. Only the sound of the water lapping against the hull.

  He held a pen and Louis’s pink Hello Kitty journal high. “The old rules hold no sway here. We make our own rules now. Our own code. The pirate code. No one telling us what to do.”

  “Sounds like someone’s telling us what to do,” Marcus grumbled.

  “Ms. Roberts told us what to do,” Carter said. “The police told us what to do. Foster parents told us what to do before getting rid of us.” He swung the pen like a sword at the mention of each. “They never asked us what we wanted. They never cared. This code is us deciding for ourselves how we want to live.”

  “Democracy in its purest form,” Darla said.

  “Aye, lass,” Carter answered. “By the people and for the people. Of course.” He pointed to himself. “There does have to be a captain.”

  “Just read the code,” Brad said.

  Carter climbed atop a seat and used Yvette’s shoulder to steady himself. He opened the notebook and cleared his throat. “Everyone shall obey their commander in all respects.”

  “Yup, like I said,” Marcus grumbled.

  Carter continued. “No one shall give, or dispose of, the ship’s provisions, but everyone shall have an equal share. Everyone shall have an equal vote in all matters, at sea or on land. Everyone shall keep watch night and day and always be ready to man their stations. No one shall go ashore ’till the ship is in readiness to put to sea. All plunder shall be divided equally.”

  He hopped off the seat, and set the book on a nearby table. He signed first, then left the pen resting in the binding. “Make your marks.”

  One by one, the others signed. Brad scoffed the whole time, but whatever.

  Marcus held the pen tip to paper, but looked up at Carter before signing. “Obey?”

  Carter shrugged. “Yeah, or, you know, take into consideration?”

  “And who decides the captain?” Marcus asked.

  “We vote,” Carter said.

  Marcus nodded, seemingly pacified, and signed his name.

  Carter snatched up the notebook. “Any who offends these articles shall be disciplined swiftly, the punishment to be decided by the crew.” He snapped it shut. “We are now officially buccaneers.”

  8

  Meanwhile…

  ’Neath a crewcut and aviator sunglasses, the by-the-book military man Major North sought his prey. His biceps thirsted for justice. His delts hungered for retribution. For he was a man who took his duty seriously. And someone had stepped in his duty.

  Heh. Duty.

  The cadets tore through the Humbolt boys’ room at the orphanage with all the vigor of a pack of coyotes in a chicken coop. They left no stone unturned, no pillow with its insides intact, no mattress unflipped. Simply put, they gutted the place.

  They were only distracted long enough to glance through the adult magazine found under the older boy’s bed. Ms. Roberts, who insisted on escorting the major wherever he went, blushed at the sight of it. Major North snatched it from the boys.

  That sort of thing is against regulation.

  “This happen often?” Ms. Roberts asked. “Boys running away, I mean. I imagine it does. Happens here all the time. I was thinking about getting a dog. Maybe a pack. You know, to sic on them. Like in Cool Hand Luke or those other prison break movies.”

  Major North cocked an eyebrow and, if possible, stood even more rigid than he had before. “Never. I’ve never lost a cadet, ma’am. No man left behind. The Humbolt boy is under my command, and I will find him.” He relaxed his stance a bit, tried to seem sympathetic. It was something he was working on, being more relatable to civilians. “And I will retrieve your daughter as well, ma’am.”

  “Huh?” Ms. Roberts looked up from Major North’s arms in a daze. “Oh, right. Her. Yes, please. She needs to tell me where my van is.” She sidled up beside Major North, ran her finger down his muscular arm. “Maybe once we find it, I can give you a tour of the area. It has a very spacious backseat.”

  A shiver ran up the major’s spine, and his gut bubbled. Civilians. More trouble than they’re worth.

  “Found something!” one of the cadets exclaimed.

  Major North sighed with relief at having an excuse to move away from Ms. Roberts and her wandering hands. “Show me what you’ve got, cadet.”

  The cadet removed a piece of paper from a dog-eared and well-read copy of Treasure Island from the younger Humbolt’s bookshelf. Covered in scribbles and notes, it looked to be a hand drawn map.

  The cadet squinted at it. “Looks like an island. Someplace called Urethra.”

  Major North winced. “Eleuthera,” he corrected. “Once this mission is over, you two are getting less PT, and more book time.”

  He snatched the paper from the cadet’s hand. He studied the notes in the margins, the diagrams, plans and backup plans. This kid was smart, strategic. He’d make a fine addition to the Valley Forge Military Academy one day.

  “Eleuthera is an island in the Bahamas chain,” Major North said. “I did a training dive there once when I was in the service.” He folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. “They ran toward the marina. I’m guessing they had a boat waiting for them.” He clenched his fist. His biceps bulged under his shirt. “That’s definitely where they’re heading. So that’s where we’re heading. Cadets,” he barked in a commanding voice.

  They snapped to attention.

  “Roll out. We’re off to the Bahamas.”

  “Valley Forge Military Academy. Hoo-rah!”

  9

  Being a pirate in practice is much different than being a pirate in theory. They had their ship. They signed the articles. They were at sea. Done, right? Let the pirating begin.

  Wrong!

  So laughably, foolishly wrong. You should be ashamed of yourself.

  Pirates needed plunder. They needed food. Worst of all
, or maybe most importantly, they needed direction. Because when you set six rogues adrift on a boat without direction, that’s all they do—drift.

  Yvette familiarized herself with the controls of the boat while the others just…kind of hung around.

  Louis clutched his rumbling stomach. Marcus smacked his bat in his hand. Brad hadn’t stopped grumbling and whining for as long as Carter could remember. And they were all staring at him.

  “What?” Carter finally blurted out.

  “I thought being a pirate would be a little more exciting,” Louis said. “And, I don’t know, maybe there’d be sandwiches. Or at least some finger foods.”

  “I thought it’d be less boring,” Marcus said. “This is boring. Really boring. Why is this so boring?”

  “Because you’re boring,” Carter said. “Only boring people get bored.”

  “Why are we just sitting here?” Marcus grumbled.

  “Yvette’s getting comfortable with the boat,” Carter answered.

  “And what do we do after?” Marcus said. “Where do we go?”

  “To Eleuthera,” Carter said. “You know, that way somewhere.” He pointed to the horizon.

  Brad stood up, looking like all he wanted to do was push Carter overboard. “This isn’t a game anymore,” Brad said. “So stop treating it like one.”

  “I’m not,” Carter said. His cheeks got hot.

  “You’re still playing pirate,” Brad argued. “All you ever do is play. You don’t take anything seriously. Well, that’s not an option anymore. Because you’ve dragged us all into this.”

  Carter willed himself not to cry. He forced the hurt to turn into anger. “Why don’t you just jump overboard and swim back to shore? You don’t have what it takes to serve on my crew.”

  “Your crew?” Brad scoffed. He jabbed his hand into his pocket and took out an old keychain he always carried with him. He rubbed it with his thumb, like it was a magic lamp, and he was hoping for a genie.

  “Yeah,” Carter shot back. “My crew. I broke into the museum. I stole the map. I got you out of the military academy. And all you’ve done the entire time is whine. Whine, whine, whine.”

  “And all I’ve done your entire life is keep you alive. Alive! Alive! Alive! But I’m strongly reconsidering that.”

  Louis interjected, “I thought we were supposed to vote on a captain.”

  “No,” Brad said. “I’m the oldest and probably the only one who isn’t crazy. I’m in charge.”

  “Like hell you are!” Carter yelled. “You’ll just bring us home. So afraid to break a rule.”

  Brad stepped forward, fist cocked back. He would have leveled his brother had Darla not intervened.

  She put a hand on Brad’s chest. “Take it easy. This last day has been crazy. I think we could all use a little rest, something to eat. Let’s do that. And then we’ll decide our next steps.”

  Brad nodded.

  “Sound good?” she said to Carter with a smile meant to soothe him.

  It worked, in part. But the other part of him was still pissed. He nodded anyway and marched off toward the bow.

  It was quiet. Painfully quiet. It reminded Carter of curfew at the orphanage. No sound after lights out.

  “I’ll see if there’s anything in the kitchen,” Louis said. “Galley, I mean. That’s what they’re called, right, Carter?”

  Carter didn’t answer.

  Louis walked below deck. The others followed.

  Carter sat alone, looking out at the sea.

  Darla emerged from below deck twenty minutes later.

  Carter hadn’t moved. He was afraid to. Afraid that if he went below, he’d walk in on Brad convincing them all that they needed to head back to shore, that the game was over.

  “Louis found some food,” Darla said. “The kitchen is actually pretty stocked.”

  “Galley,” Carter said, his voice barely a whisper.

  “Right,” Darla laughed.

  The silence echoed off the water again.

  Darla rubbed Carter’s back. A gesture to say, It’s okay.

  There were times, a lot of them, when Carter wished Darla was his sister and Brad was just another orphan. She knew how to make him feel better. Brad knew how to yell at him or call him reckless or treat him like a baby.

  “He’s just worried,” Darla said.

  “He’s always worried,” Carter said.

  “Can you blame him?”

  Her response surprised Carter. Of course he could blame him. He was blaming him right now. They finally had their chance to get free of Ms. Roberts and the orphanage and the whole system and their wretched lives. Only Brad didn’t want to. He wanted to follow the rules. He wanted to go back. Go back to how things were.

  How could he not blame him?

  “With you for a brother, I’d always be worried,” Darla said.

  The hurt and anger swirled inside Carter again. He wanted to kick her overboard now, too. She and Brad could go find a deserted island somewhere and kiss all day long and build a shanty made of palm leaves and die of exposure or get eaten by wild boars or—

  “Because what would life be like without you in it?”

  Wait, what?

  Carter blinked back the tears as he looked at Darla. Her face was silhouetted by the sun setting behind her.

  “He’s been terrified of losing you since the day you guys lost your mother.” She took Carter’s hand. “And you don’t make it easy on him. I mean, look where we are. On a stolen boat, in the middle of ocean, following a stolen map to find pirate treasure in the Bahamas. If one single part of this crazy plan goes south, then you go both right back into the system. But, he’ll probably go into a different system.”

  Carter knew what she meant. Brad’s old enough. He’d probably get jail time. Carter’s cheeks burned hot. Shame flooded his lungs, making it hard to take a deep breath.

  “So, try to take it easy on him, okay?” Darla squeezed Carter’s hand, and then let go. “He’s doing the best he can.” She walked away, stopping at the top of the stairs that led below deck. “And come down for dinner.”

  Carter took a last look out at the water. It was getting dark. He wouldn’t be able to see it soon. Once the sun went down, all he’d have was the boat and the people on it.

  He followed Darla below deck.

  He stopped at the bottom of the stairs to take the place in. He knew at that moment that he absolutely chose the right boat to steal. This place was amazing. There was a bed that took up the entire bow where Yvette and Marcus sat cross-legged, shoveling food into their mouths. A proper dining room table sat against the wall, anchored to it and the floor. Padded benches lined the long sides of the table. Brad sat on one, eating soup from a bowl, not looking up. An unclaimed bowl of soup sat across from him.

  Louis had found an apron that said “Kiss the Captain” and donned it proudly as he stirred a pot atop the stove. The boat was outfitted with a kitchenette—stove, microwave, even a dishwasher.

  This thing was nicer than the orphanage.

  “Soup’s on,” Louis said. “Although I guess I’d call it more of a chowder, if we’re being technical. The pantry in here is fantastic. I never had anything like this to work with back home. I tried one time, and Ms. Roberts totally flipped. Could be that I almost burned the place down…”

  “We get it,” Yvette said. “You cook.”

  Louis shot her a sharp stare, which she ignored by lying down.

  “Smells good,” Carter said, sitting across from Brad.

  Brad didn’t look up. But as Carter lifted a big spoonful toward his mouth, he said, “It’s got onions in it. Big ones. You can pick them out if you have to.”

  Carter looked down at his spoon and was horrified by the huge chunk of vile root vegetable looking up at him. “Thanks,” he said, flicking it off his spoon.

  Brad smiled but never looked up from his bowl.

  The rest of the night didn’t feel real. They laughed, even found some cards and played a ro
und of poker. Only two of them actually knew how to play. But there was a radio. They cranked it as loud as they wanted and belted out song after song. They danced. They threw things and didn’t pick up after themselves. They didn’t do the dishes even though there was a dishwasher.

  They did whatever they wanted and nothing they didn’t. And they did it together.

  But, after a while, their eyelids grew heavy.

  “I need to crash,” Yvette said through a yawn.

  The rest agreed.

  “Dibs on the bed,” Yvette called, and then flopped onto the mattress.

  “Girls get the bed,” Darla yelled and dove next to her.

  The boys laid out some blankets on the floor. One of the benches along the wall actually pulled out into a single bed. Brad took that. Of course.

  “Wait,” Carter said. “Shouldn’t someone keep watch?”

  “For what?” Marcus said.

  “Other boats,” Carter answered. “I mean, we are technically fugitives, right? What if the Coast Guard finds us?”

  “Good idea,” Brad said. “I nominate you. Good night.”

  The rest agreed.

  Carter grumbled, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and marched up top. He sat in the captain’s chair, tried to familiarize himself with the controls. He looked out at the water, but saw nothing but black and the reflection of the moon.

  The rhythmic sound of water lapping against the hull was like a lullaby.

  Carter’s head snapped up suddenly. He’d fallen asleep. What time was it? How long had he been out?

  What had woken him up?

  The sound of an idling engine. Just off the stern.

  10

  He couldn’t see it, but Carter knew it was there. The sound of its engine carried on the water, but it was barely a hum. Just resting, watching. It couldn’t have been far.

  Their lights weren’t on. Not even a beacon to let passing boats know where it is.

  Carter’s gut pinched.

  He slid out of the captain’s chair and snuck below deck as quietly as he could. He stepped over Marcus and Louis, to the pull-out bed. “Brad,” he whispered, shaking his brother awake.

  “What is it?” Brad’s voice was full of sleep, and he hadn’t even opened his eyes.