Captain William Sark - Chapter 3: The Lusty Anchor

I really wanted to just get back to my cabin on The Swordfish and try and figure out our next course of action. We had spent so long tracking down Sabadha, who was one of very few fish folk who could show people their future rather than just tell them about it, and I wanted the whole picture of course, no second hand accounts. The crew were full of questions about why I needed to see him, but I just assured them that he owed me a lot of coins from years ago, and I was coming to collect the debt.

I didn’t like to keep much from my crew, but I kept the important stuff, or the stuff that might endanger me. I would be naïve if I thought that their loyalty was eternal and that they wouldn’t attempt a mutiny if given enough incentive, so I told them enough to make them think that I trusted them, but not enough to let them thing that I trusted them with my life. The only one I trusted with all my being was good ol’ Joe, and even he didn’t need to know about why I needed to see my future so badly.

Besides, it might make me seem crazier than a shark with legs if they knew why I was seeking the Sage, and why I was so obsessed with my own future. It doesn’t take a genius like me to know that a crew who thinks they are under a nutty captain are also a crew who thinks that mutiny might be a good idea. If the Sage really knew why I was seeking him, he wouldn’t have shown me my future, and if after he showed me he found out, he would have probably tried to kill me.

This is why I had to keep my thoughts hidden near him. This is why I had to make-believe my reaction to what I saw lurking at the end of my years, and I would have to continue to until we left this island. Who knew how far his mind could reach after me and paw through my thoughts like a dirty lecher going through a ladies’ underwear drawer? As it stood, I was glad to be leaving; all this internal lying was giving me a headache. I had experience at hiding my thoughts plenty before, but that didn’t make it easy, or comfortable.

It wasn’t that hard to act like I didn’t believe it though. I mean seriously? A ruddy giant baby?

At the moment however, I was more concerned with convincing my men to leave tonight without any hassle. Over the past week or two we had been here and lay trying to fit in to gain the trust of the locals which would then mean gaining the trust of the Sage. They had been comfortable, and grown accustomed to being on land for a while. They might not be so happy about leaving so suddenly. They might be feeling distinctly mutinous. Which is why as I entered, I cried out:

“Barmaid! One glass of your finest ale for every man in here, whether they’re in my crew or not!” The men (a few women wondered if they counted as ‘men’) all turned to look at me, waiting for that vital follow up to this statement… I obliged.
“On me, of course.” And as I walked to the bar and pulled another bag of gold coins from my pocket and set it on the bar top, everyone in the bar cheered. That was me in everyone’s good books. Honestly, we humans are such simple creatures.

The beautiful barmaid good old Joseph had mentioned lifted the bag, smiling as the coins inside it jingled merrily, as if they were also singing my praises. I leaned over the counter and covertly whispered in her ear, “Get you a tipple too love, you look tired, and keep the change, ‘tis a gift from my first mate Joe.”
“You’re not as bad as they say Captain.”
She smiled even wider, it lighting up her beautiful face and along with her blonde hair making her seem positively radiant and she blew a kiss to Joe, who was of course watching her with adoration, having just sat down.. He jumped like he had been bitten, spilled some of his drink on himself (to roars of laughter from the rest of the table) and waved back, red faced.

It was probably a bad idea doing that when we had to leave tonight, but I was always trying to look out for Joe, and besides there was a whole day left to get to know her a bit better, and I’m sure Joe would know what I meant when I said that. Besides, they didn’t say what time tonight we had to leave, and the night could be long. With a lot of rum and beautiful women around, maybe we could convince them to let us stay some more if the crew wanted to. I just needed time to gather my thoughts. I carried as many of the ales to help out the barmen and maids (I’m not so bad, see?) as I could for my crew to their tables and sat down beside Joe, clapping him on the back.

“Thanks Cap’n!” He said to me, the blush fading a bit from his face, but not much. He was around the same age as me when it came to women he was a bit of a child sometimes.
“Don’t mention it Pearl.” Wasn’t sure if he was thanking me for the ale, or for what he was supposing I said to the barmaid, probably both, he wasn’t slow.

“Aye, t-thanks C-Captain!” Eagle, the crow’s nest man called out. A bit of a nervous guy, with a bit of a stutter, this was funny because of his nickname. But he had great eyesight and could tell when something approaching was safe and when it was danger, even when the rest of us had no idea. He had fierce keen instincts and the small, sharp eyes of a bird, so he had earned Eagle, and besides, no one knew his real name anyway.

A weird sort of shiver passed over me as I looked at him. I remembered from my vision that he was still in my crew and still in the crow’s nest, until he plumetted from it and broke his neck when he hit the deck. How many of the other men would still be here? How many would die in my service? Could I stop it? This was making my head ache.

The rest of the crew echoed the thanks, and then those at the other tables echoed it again, it carrying across the bar like a ripple in water. The quartermaster at my table simply nodded. He was a mountain of a man made entirely of muscle it seemed, with a shining bald head and deeply tanned skin. He was incredible in battle but otherwise as gentle as a whale.

Again, he had a nickname, we mostly all had nicknames. There was no point in having long names and surnames when ye were a pirate, it just confused things. This man was Moby, because of some book about a whale I had spied what seemed like an age ago, when books were a bit more common. I thought the comparison fitted well, strong and giant, filled with power, but also gentle and mostly harmless, not that the Moby in the book was, I’ve actually heard quite the opposite. Joe’s nickname was Pearl, which he absolutely hated.

“Alright boys, here’s the deal. Pearl has just informed me that the good mayor of this island wants us gone tonight.” I was only addressing this table really; the rest of the crew could pass it on. I was a Captain not a messenger, and most of the big wigs on the ship (under me of course) were here anyway. Their replies came all at once in a weird wall of noise.
“B-but that’s too soon C-c-c-captain!”
“Arrr, nonsense.”
…Silence from Moby.
“What a load of bollocks.”
“Don’t call me Pearl!”

I raised a hand, still dimly surprised it wasn’t a hook, when would that go away? The racket died down and they seemed ready to listen. Nothing wrong with letting them let off a little steam.
“I know, I know.” But I really didn’t, if I hadn’t finished my business I would have thought it was bollocks too. “But we have to respect the Major and these pirates. They let us stay here without no trouble for a fair while and it’s been good and we’ve got plenty of supplies, it’s time to hit the waves again.”
A few grunts here and there sounded out, not really agreement but not really argument either, good stuff.
“Besides, we don’t need any more trouble again; it would be pretty handy to be able to come back here without having to worry about being hung wouldn’t it?”

Some of the men looked at their feet as if ashamed, some of them laughed and clapped each other on their backs and some of them just looked solemn. It was a big table and the long view down it from my seat told me a lot about this chunk of my crew, more than their words ever could. They all knew that I was referring to the trouble we had on a different small island, many miles away, called White Tip, where a drunken brawl turned into a full scale slaughter. On that island we are now public enemy number one, not to be taken alive. And those people weren’t even pirates.

At this thought my stomach begin to twist into knots, and I felt like the rum I had been sipping might make another appearance, moving the fire from my belly up into my throat, then out my mouth and onto the floor. I had other enemies, some that weren’t civvies, or pirates, or fish folk… something else entirely, something deadly.

“Fine Captain, we’ll go.” Moby spoke in his deep voice, which sounded like the rolling of a giant wave. I would swear he had noticed my mind wander and got me back on track. This man spoke so little that usually what he said basically became law, underneath me of course.
“Bloody brilliant, let’s all enjoy the last night here then, crew.” I raised my glass, which happened to be empty.

I slammed it back down on the table and lifted Joe’s instead.
“Let’s get barrelled! The hard graft starts again tomorrow!” I called theatrically.
“Aye aye Captain!”
The men cheered and began to order more drinks, lapsing back into their circles of conversation. I leaned over to Joe, who was looking annoyed that I stole his drink, and whispered,
“Make sure they know the rest aren’t on me Pearl, see ye later.”

I stood up and left, I wasn’t in the mood to do any serious drinking. As I left Joe was mumbling to himself, “I can’t tell them that, they’ll quarter me.”