Pirates Ahoy!

I wake up to the sound of the hard pounding of rain beating against the deck of our ship, the Nighthawk. I glance out the tiny, circular window placed high up on one of the wooden walls. Lightning flashes wickedly across the nighttime sky and thunder booms ominously close by. Too close for comfort, I think, as I break into a cold sweat. Something was wrong, I could feel it.

Suddenly, my roommate, Annie, bursts into my tiny cabin, practically radiating fear. Her sea foam gray eyes, usually fearless, are filled with terror and surprise. Her reddish-brown hair is tousled and knotted, which I find surprising. She never lets herself be seen without her hair brushed to perfection.

I open the trapdoor that leads to the deck, Annie following close behind. The rain beats down on my face, running down my cheeks and back. I cough, choking on water as I scramble onto the main deck. Shielding my eyes from the stinging droplets, I hear snatches of conversation, mostly desperate yelling and loud orders.

“We need–”

“–the sail!”

“Heave!”

As my eyes adjust to the blackness of the night, I realize that almost half of our crew is frantically dumping water. Annie and I struggle to our feet, stumbling through the thrashing waves that throw themselves onto our beloved ship. I clench my fists and teeth. This storm messed with the wrong girl. We join the crew and get to work. Someone hands us each a wooden bucket about the size of a pillow–though nothing about the crude tool was soft or fluffy. Au contraire, the thing is as splintery as peeling tree bark (which is sort of what it was) and as rough as sackcloth.

As I ferociously scoop and hurl the water away from my ship, I feel anger pulse through my veins. Despite the chilling rain running down my back and through my hair, I feel hot and sweaty. That’s what anger does to me. It burns me like fire, it controls me like nothing else.

And right now, I’m definitely angry. I’m angry at the ocean, which I’m usually so fond of.

Until now, I admired the strength and unpredictability of the ocean. Ever since I was a child, I would creep down to the beach to see the ocean when I could. I loved to feel the warm sand build all around my feet and run through the in between places of my toes. I loved feeling the fresh, sweet breeze gently blowing my tangled hair. But most of all, I loved seeing the ocean water drifting lazily over the beach, leaving behind thick, bubbly blankets of sea foam on the sand and watching the waves soar for the sky and then collapse in a ripply rush of water.

Now all respect and admiration for the ocean had withered away and drowned in the never-ending depths of itself. But it’s not just anger that fills my heart and pounds fiercely in my ears. I also feel a sinking feeling of disappointment. Ever since my childhood, the ocean was my safe place. When my mother died, I was 5 years old and feeling very hopeless and forgotten. And my father didn’t care. He was either working or gambling away all the money that he’d earned during the day. My aunt took care of me. She was cold and strict and despised children. Once, for my birthday, she’d taken me to the beach to play and eat lunch. I remember feeling like I belonged. A warm, tingly sense overtook my heart and I knew that I loved that place.

From then on, I would go there and savor that feeling of welcomeness.

I force myself back into the present. The Captainess is shouting orders. Wind and rain whips in our ears as our hands become raw and red from bailing so much seawater. All is a mixed jumble of confusion and misery.
I scoop up another pail full of water and throw it overboard with all my might. Anger is replaced with determination as I speak ferocious words of encouragement to myself and my crew.

The Captainess calls me over, her brow furrowed concernedly.

“Aye, Captainess Nerine?”

Captainess Nerine’s face has gone from concern to solemnity.

She gravely points North. A dark, looming object is jutting out from the fog and waves. A faint glow gleams wickedly and from that eerie glow, I could see black objects sticking out of the bigger black object.

“Oh, Lord, save us,” I mutter despairingly.

I had a feeling that this new threat would definitely take advantage of our waterlogged, splintering ship.

More pirates. And these new ones had cannons.

Salty air whipped Gwen’s face as she leaned on the bow of her ship. Her ribs expanded against her tight black bodice as she breathed in the sea. Her dark skin and hair glistened in the sun. The ship plowed forward, fast as a leaf in a hurricane. Gwen gently removed her fingerless glove to inspect the black jewel that was set inside.

“Why does the King’s treasure need to be moved anyhow?” The first sailor asked.

“I think it has something to do with the war. Klarshik is a pretty strong country, you know. We’re bringing this stuff to an island not five miles from Klarshik itself. Hidden in plain sight.” The Captain recalled.

“Stupid Klarshik.” A third sailor complained, returning from below. “We had a peace treaty with them, but they had to be greedy.”

“And when the King and Queen are on vacation no less.” John agreed, shifting the position of a small wooden crate. “They’ve left the Princess to manage a war by herself. She’s only eighteen!” While the sailors finished loading, a hooded figure snuck up the ramp and dove behind a large crate. When Ben turned around, he saw only cargo.

“Alright, pull up the anchor.” He called. “Time to shove off.”

***

All Ren had to do was get to Klarshik, find his father, and get out. He didn’t have much money, so he decided to stow away on the first ship he found.

Ren found a crevice between two crates that created an excellent hiding spot. The boy unclasped his auburn cloak from his shoulders and laid it across the small space. Other than that, he had few belongings. Food had not been Ren’s focus these past few days, ever since he discovered his powers.

He still didn’t know why his father had hid his powers from him all these years, but that was why Ren needed to find him. His father had been taken during the invasion, and Ren was determined to get him back. His sister had journeyed to Klarshik about a month ago, but he worried that she was captured as well…or worse.

Ren shook his head, shoving away his dark thoughts. He lay across his makeshift bed and told himself that he needed rest. After all, he had a family to save.

***

The cargo ship had been sailing for a day now and life was quiet. Too quiet. Captain Ben thought from his post. Suddenly the wind whipped in the opposite direction, pulling Ben’s hat with it. A black dot emerged on the horizon. After only five minutes the ship pulled up beside his own and The Captain saw the words Blackbeetle carved on the side of it.

Dozens of people leaned over the edge with pistols and daggers, each with a blue band around their heads.

He suddenly realized who these people were.

Pirates.

Ben turned and called for his crew. A dozen sailors arose from below deck, saw what was happening, and drew their swords.

A pirate woman dressed in all black threw a rope like a lasso onto the Captain’s mast and swung. She slid down the wooden pole gracefully and launched towards the Captain.

***

Ren watched the scene unfold from his hiding spot. A myriad of pirates flooded the ship, some swinging from the mast and others setting down wooden boards to connect the two ships. The swinging pirates brought out weapons and mercilessly bound the small crew, while the rest began stealing cargo. His hiding place was slowly being chipped away.

Quickly, Ren darted from his spot and pressed himself against a wall. Not ten feet from him the lead pirate, a woman covered in black attire, battled with the Captain. Swords flashed in the sun, clanging noisily. Ben’s clunky and stiff actions were no match for the woman’s swift movements. The Captain was suddenly cornered and she was about to deal the final blow…

Ren turned away and, while everyone’s back was turned, he ran across the wooden boards onto the Blackbeetle.

***

When the entire crew was either killed or captured, (and the treasure was safely onboard) Gwen ordered the crossing planks to be brought in.

“‘Splosion!” Her crewmates chanted.

“There’s no need,” Gwen argued, though she admired their enthusiasm.

They continued their chant. She sighed. This was her trademark. It made others fear her. She consented and raised her gloved hand. She held her wrist flat and leveled it with the cargo ship. Gwen placed a single finger on the black jewel, and it shone a bright white. Warmth spread up her finger until she flicked it forward, and a burning ball of fire erupted from the jewel like a cannon. It grew steadily as it flew, before crashing into the ship.

Only broken wooden shards remained.

Cody’s face met wood with a loud CRACK!

He stood up clutching the side of the boat as rain poured down. Peering into the water he saw a dim shape moving. Lightning flashed and the beast broke the surface. Half lizard, half fish, full nightmare. Cody felt a firm hand grab him by the shoulder and drag him back.

“Quick lad! My musket!” Captain Zan yelled above the storm, shoving him toward his quarters.

Lighting illuminated the dragon’s jaws as it came crashing down on a neighboring ship. Even though it was only half the size of it, it took out the ship in a matter of minutes.

Cody did what he was told, opening the door and slamming it behind him. Cody glanced at the scroll that sat on the table, the bounty for the dragon. He spotted the chest and opened it, a golden musket was lying there with a plain iron one. Grabbing a hand of silver bullets, as well as a Bomb Bullet, he took off for the door. Throwing it open he spotted the captain.

“Captain!” Cody yelled above the dragon’s cries. He handed him his gold musket and took the iron. Looking out into the rain he spotted the creature. Cody took his place by Gorge, his best friend, and loaded his weapon.

“Fire!” yelled Cannonball Jo. Immediately cannon balls took to the air. Not a single one missed its shot. Rain, fire, and green blood filled the air. It let out a shriek and swiveled its head around to glare at the pirates who caused it pain. It dove under the surface of the water. Cody scooted to the edge of the boat, peering into the water.

It came up like a geyser and starred at Cody. Its eyes where inky black and sucked him in. He couldn’t move. Its eye exploded and Cody snapped out of his trance. A defining cry filled his ears as it screamed. It doubled over and the men cheered, smoke still over the caption’s musket.

“Wait just a minute men!” Captain Zan yelled above the storm.

Everyone held their breath.

The dragon sprang out of the water, catching three men in its gaze. They stood frozen, unable to run. Again it attacked, slapping four others into the sea. Lightning lit up the outline of the beast as it lunged for the captain.

Cody shot the monster. It retreated into the water and Cody scrambled to the captain.

“Are you all right?” Cody asked.

The caption winced as Cody looked at where his leg used to be, now a puddle of blood. He helped the wounded man into his quarters. Second mate Tim had been thrown overboard and Cannonball Jo assumed leadership.

“Tom, Yank, Bill, grab those ropes there. Gorge, Phil, Cody, get ready to shoot. When the monster comes, we’ll tie it round the mast. It’s the best shot we have. If we run we’ll be open to any attack.”

The dragon arose and everyone was in action. The dragon tried to break free but it was too weak from its wounds. It made eye contact with Yank and he froze. The dragon grabbed him and threw him into the sea. All men now firing, it screamed and thrashed.

Cody looked around and saw no Cannonball Jo. A cannon sounded and the dragon, pinned to the boat, was shot right in the stomach. It vomited. Now desperate, it strained against the boat, causing it to shudder and splinter. A rope snapped and its giant claw ripped through the deck, freezing crewmembers with its gaze and disposing of them.

Wait. If he could knock out its eye…

Cody sprang into action, running to the side of the face where there was not just a charred socket. Grabbing the Bomb Bullet, he loaded it in his musket.

“If I use this exploding bullet,” he said to himself, picking up his gun and getting ready to fire. “I should be able to-“

Its eye swiveled to stare at him. He couldn’t move. Terror filled him as the ropes finally gave way. Stretching out as high as it could off the water, the dragon let out a roar. Opening its mouth, it lunged for him.

He wanted to run, to scream, to blink! But all he could do was stand there, ready to shoot. As the beast’s teeth came closer, time slowed down.

Shoot! he though.

Jaws closing around him. He blinked.

Mouth closed. Bullet shot. Tongue starting to swallow. Boom!

Darkness.

Cody woke up in a slimy tube. It was hot, and he gagged from the stench. A pair of hands slipped down the top of the tube and drug him out.

“Cody!” said a familiar voice.

“Those burns don’t looks so good. Give me that jug.” A deeper voice commanded.

Cody was about to blackout again, but the ice cold water decided otherwise. He looked up to see Cannonball Jo and Gorge standing over him.

“Wah, huh?” Cody mumbled.

“Don’t worry,” said a comforting voice. “We’ll be on land in no time.”

Cody looked to see the captain smiling down at him. His leg was gone with bandages wrapped around the nub. Then he remembered.

“The dragon! What-“

Zan interrupted him. “It’s dead, thanks to you.”

Cody looked at the scaley carcass he’d been dragged out of.

“You go get some rest. Gorge, help him to my bed.”

“Yes, captain,” Gorge said as he helped Cody up to the captain’s quarters.

Cody looked around and saw the ship was barely holding together. Green blood and vomit covered everything. The body of the dragon was now getting towed in the water. They entered the captain’s quarters.

“No one thought you were still alive, but I said that it was so sudden, you didn’t have time to get digested,” Gorge said as Cody lay on the bed. “And now…”

His friends voice faded off as Cody closed his eyes. And, The Pirate who nearly got digested, took a much needed rest.

The First Crew

We are trapped. Trapped in the bowels of the earth we once reviled, embracing the darkness, yet longing for the salt of the sea. No-one can save us. No-one has ever tried. Ours is a fate we deserve. Completely.

We are evil. From our bones to the roots of our hair, we are wicked beyond all hope of redemption. People can only be redeemed if they’re sorry.

And we’re not.

When we were alive, we were pirates of the Vengeance. Compared to us, Hook and Kydd are dandies. Our focus was not riches; we aimed for a mightier goal: to destroy all those who were happy.

We were killers of joy. Everyone paled at the thought of us. When we were tried and condemned to be locked away in the centre of the earth, people thought they were finally safe.

But they’re not.

Even though our bodies have long ago passed away, eaten by worms in the rotten darkness, our ghosts remain. And we will return to the land of the living someday, when our time is ripe.

When the clock strikes thirteen.

And that’s the time when both the best and worst things can happen. A phoenix can rise from the flames of a kitchen fire. Toys can come to life. You can step into a picture.

And ghosts can escape from their prison.

Father Time made it as a time of joy. It won’t be; we’ll be around to make sure of that. People will wish they’d never been born when we are free once again.

We number thirteen, with Simon Sanguine as our captain.

And no-one will stand against us. Reigns of terror may have happened in the past, but they will be nothing compared to what we will inflict on people. Pain will be the least of their worries when we get going. No-one will ever be safe again.

All hope will be gone, with only terror and blind subservience remaining. We’ll see to that when we finally reach the peak of the notoriety towards which we’ve been reaching for millennia.

While we’ve been locked up here, we’ve heard echoes from the world above. People praying for our forgiveness.

But we don’t want that. We don’t want their faith, hope and love.

We want distrust, hopelessness and hatred.

And we mean to get it.

So keep your pious words and deeds of love and remember we’ll always be out there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Till the clock strikes thirteen…

The Second Crew

We don’t know who we really are. When we were alive, folk called us pirates, but we’ve changed since then. We aren’t pirates any more.

Pirates are bad.

And when we were alive we were… but we’ve been ghosts for millennia, and we’ve had ample time to mull over our mistakes.

We’re sorry.

And pirates aren’t sorry for their actions.

Which makes us what?

We are reformed pirates.

We’ve seen the suffering we caused when we sailed the Seven Seas, burning and pillaging, killing people and stealing their treasures. And it makes us sick. The only thing we have left to hope for is something very special.

When the clock strikes thirteen.

Well, that’s what our mothers told us. And it’s all we can look forward to. Being a ghost is tough. Boring. Too much time to worry and writhe over past mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. We’ve just made more than other people. And if you’re a ghost, they come back to haunt you. No joke intended – but it’s true. Ghosts haunted by ghosts – except our ghosts only exist in our heads.

But that doesn’t make them less real.

And we know it.

And when the clock strikes thirteen is the time to set things right. Reverse past wrongs. Apologise for the things we’ve done. Search for forgiveness.

Before it’s too late.

If you’re alive, you’ve got all your life to do those things in. If you’re a ghost, you’ve only got one more chance.

And one only. If you funk it, it’s gone.

We’re not planning to funk it. All of us, from Captain Tom to Black-boots Billy, want to be free. We’ll give back what we’ve stolen; do anything it takes. We just want to be free and forgiven.

Cut loose from the bad deeds that bind us to the earth so we can sail away into the sunset, happy.

It’s what we hope every day of our ghostly existence: redemption from what we’ve done and a fresh start.

Think of that as you see what messes people are making of their lives today.

Tell it to yourself as planes crash, buildings burn and innocent people’s lives are lost.

Chant it as leaders exploit the countries they lead and betray the trust of their people.

Proclaim it in letters of gold as crime fights to take over the world.

And believe it – believe that even after you die there is one last chance for forgiveness. One last chance to get redeemed.

When the clock strikes thirteen…

Finis

“Quick, in here!” Jace P. Smith, a sixteen year old crew mate hissed.

He pointed with his finger to a gargantuan barrel. Lifting my skirts, I tripped over the floor of the ship to where Jace was. He hoisted me off the floor and lowered me into the barrel. I noticed a layer of soiled water at the bottom. I was tempted to gag. Jace picked up the barrel lid, and before he placed it, I seized his arm.
“Thank you,” I whispered hoarsely.

He flashed a charming outlaw’s smile, and the lid thudded onto the barrel, leaving me in the pitch-blackness of a soggy barrel.

My name is Marilyn Stuart. I’m fourteen years old, an orphan, and rich. Very rich. Painfully so. My parents died from the plague when I was born, so I have no memories of them. So all these years I have been with my savage godmother. She’s a perfect demon and hated my parents. She took me for her own sake so that she might steal my money. She had even gone so far as to try to arrange a marriage for me to her son!

For this reason I looked for a way to escape. After weeks of unsuccessful ideas, I met Jace on a stroll that I had taken without permission. For no reason, I had been holding my notebook, which held the unfruitful plans. Then Jace, with a torn and patched cap on his head, had come into view, crossing the cobblestoned street. Suddenly, the wind had swept up my notes and scattered into the street! I ran toward them, but in vain. Jace caught one of them. After reading it, his blue eyes had glinted, and he’d said, “Trying to run away, are you?”

Well, you can probably guess the rest. Indeed, I’d paid him a ridiculous sum. And here I was, sitting in a wet barrel.

After hours, I was dreadfully cramped, but asleep. And I was dreaming the worst nightmare I’d ever had.

Pirates were swarming the hold, searching for treasure. Cries sounded everywhere. One pirate crept up to my hiding place, and tipped the barrel over! He whooped at the sight of me wearing a costly dress and a diamond necklace. He held a blood-stained knife against my throat… and I awoke. The nightmare enveloped me in a cold sweat. My head swelled with noises. I laid my hand against the side of the barrel. And soon, I fell asleep.

The next morning, I awoke to see that the barrel top was missing. I stood up, and discovered my legs were numb. Also, my dress was soaked and the barrel was dry.

“Oh, bother,” I proclaimed, “and it was such a nice dress too.” I clambered out, and heard someone clattering down the steps. I hid.

“Helloooooo.” I stepped out; it was Jace. Jace grinned at my bedraggled appearance. “Did the princess sleep well last night?”

“She most certainly didn’t.”

“ Well, I guess it wasn’t the best bunk, but it was the only place. You’ll stand out too much in those clothes. Wear this.” He tossed some clothes to me.

I fingered it distastefully. But he withdrew, and I redressed. It fit loosely. Jace returned.

“Mmmm…” he glanced at my long hair. “Either we shave your head,” I clutched my scalp and Jace saw my shock. “…or stuff your hair under this.” He threw his cap to me.

“Oh.” I unpinned my hair, and with a large bit of trouble, stuffed it into Jace’s cap. Hopefully he didn’t have lice.

“Alright, that’s settled, and let’s go. There’s something to see.”

We climbed on deck. I saw a man in ragged garments with dangerously bright eyes and a scar running jagged down his bearded face, tied to the mast.

Jace caught my look and said, “Pirate captain. Tried to nip us last night, but we caught him… Some of the sailors think his crew’ll return.”

“You really think so?” The glare in the pirate’s stare gave me a cold feeling.

“Yes, but most don’t believe it. But I’d hope the pirates won’t return.”

I slept for a while in a bunk, and awoke. Something disturbed me, and I couldn’t sleep. I tiptoed over the floor and stepped onto the deck. It was misty. I traveled to the edge of the ship, and peeked out into the salty gloom.

Then I caught sight of something. I leaned farther. It was a ship! A cross-boned flag, blood-red, hung starkly from it. It was coming quickly. I started toward the cabins. Someone caught my arm! I screamed. It was the pirate! He was no longer tied, and was clutching a dagger. He pulled my shoulders and held the knife against me. He barked, “Garrr, seal yer mouth, lad, or I’ll kill. Savvy? Davy Jones’ll have ye before the sun rises if you fly another sound. In fact, I’ll just make away wi’ you and be away.”

I could feel his breath behind me. He pushed the knife and I shut my eyes so tight that tears winked out. I prepared for death…

“Oy!” Jace wrenched the knife from the pirate’s hand. The pirate staggered and flashed another dagger.

Cries sounded behind and all the crew poured out from our ship. They rushed at the pirates boarding.

An explosion sounded! Many of both crews lay dead. Cannons! The hubbub from yet another pirate ship arose from the crackling timbers from our ship. Jace ran, his cocky expression replaced with seriousness.

“Follow me!” he shouted. I followed him. He ran through the flames toward the pirate ship that lay next to us! It somehow was untouched, and had no flames. The remainder of their crew didn’t notice us and was pulling away from our ship. “Jump!” Jace shouted.

I was frantic. Did he really mean me to leap from this ship to a pirate ship?!

“I can’t!” I wailed. Without another word, Jace picked me up, and jumped onto the moving pirate ship.