The Scourge - Pirates & Privateers

Chapter 18: Learning the truth

Captain Percival stormed up the beach while Martin galloped beside him, struggling to keep pace. They reached the edge of the camp and the Quartermaster, who had been waited chewing his nail, hailed them as they approached.

'H-How'd it go? Good news, I take it since you're in one piece?'

'Yes... and no,' the Captain grumbled. 'He's given us a day to consider a deal; we go free and unharmed with a pocket full of silver-.'

'Good!' the Quartermaster exclaimed. 'That's amazing! We get paid and we go free, no harm done. That's better than any deal we've ever had. Take it.'

'Are you done interrupting me?' the Captain leaned into the Quartermaster's ear. 'He wants the girl... and her cargo.'

'I reiterate; Good! Screw her. At least we can get out of this with our own necks intact. Better her than us.'

'Maybe,' The Captain scanned the camp. 'Where is she? I need to talk to her.'

'I-If it's alright, Captain,' Martin tugged at the Captain's sleeve. 'I'd like... to go back to the jungle camp. I think I left something important there.'

'Of course,' the Captain nodded. 'But don't dally. We need you back here as soon as possible. Can I trust you to come back on your own, Hamish?'

'Aye, sir,' Martin nodded, keeping his arms tight against his sides so his shirt billowed out.

'Good man. On you go. Now, where's Miss Morton. I'd like a word.'

***

Martin climbed through the grove, wrestling the vines out of his path as the branches stung his face. When he had struggled a considerable distance back into the jungle, he stopped. He found the rotten remains of a dead tree. First checking around for any hidden critters, he sat down on its oily bark and wrapped himself in the soft hum of the world around him; a half-silence that could drive a man mad.

He sighed and slipped a hand into the belt of his breeches. Some of his old street urchin tricks had come in useful, as he'd been able to lift the cylinder from Captain's Percival's pocket without any suspicion. At the time, he'd been possessed by some kind of wild curiosity but now the spirit was gone, he realised that he held a choice; a crossroad lay before him.

He slipped the cylinder out of his waistband and rested it on the flat of both palms. Staring at its engraved casing, polished to a near mirror-shine, he caught a glimpse of his own face in the reflection and blanched as the scar across his cheek opened like a chasm in the curved silver.

His fingers caught the slightly proud opening in the cap. It was almost as if it was begging to be opened.

Don't do it, a voice in his head echoed. What would Emily think?

Who cares what she thinks? another answered. She doesn't have to know. No one has to know.

It's not fair. Part of the promise was that no one would open it.

That was the Captain who promised, not you. You won't be breaking a promise. You could say the cylinder slipped open and you happened to see what was inside when you tried to put it back.

That's a lie.

And she's a liar, the words shot through him and made him shudder. Or at least you believe she is. Her or the Spaniard; one of them is lying and one telling the truth. Don't you want to know for sure which is which?

Yes, but not like this. Martin shouted back at the voice inside his head.

There is no other way. This is it. Either you open that cylinder or put it back and never know. What's the harm? At least this way, you'll never have to wonder.