A Pirate's Life - the Story of a Merchant

Chapter One

It became a routine for Sidney, to play his song for the setting sun every night. He played it each day for ten years, never forgetting his father's smile.

He could see it in the sun, he told them. His father's smile rested in the sun, where he could see it every day and play for it every night, sending it into the sea each time. But unlike his father, the sun rose again the next morning, in the east.

The dawn of a new day.

At seventeen, on the eve of the anniversary of his father's death, the playing stopped. The sun was setting, but there was no music to send it off. The crew wondered where the music had gone, and why his song wasn't playing.

Pierre, who had become Captain until Sidney would turn eighteen, walked toward the bow of the ship, his hands clasped behind his back. Sidney was perched on the side of the ship, looking out at the sun as it set. His violin was in his hands. Pierre sat on the side of the ship across from him and placed a hand on his knee.

"Yer not playin' tonight?" He asked, concern written on his face. Sidney had played the song every night for ten years. It was strange to not hear it. Sidney shook his head.

"I can't find the notes." His green eyes never left the sun. Pierre was taken aback. He knew that Sidney had been hearing the song in his head constantly, and that was why he played it every night. After ten years, the notes had finally dispersed. The song had played its final note.

Pierre pursed his lips. "Why don't yeh play another song?" Sidney pondered the idea, but shook his head again as he looked at the violin in his hands. He set it down on the floor of the ship and twiddled his thumbs.

"I don't have a song," He said solemnly, finally looking at Pierre. "I have no song to play."

Pierre smiled reassuringly, and placed his hand on Sidney's shoulder. "It'll come to yeh," He whispered. He got to his feet. "Just yeh wait. Yer gonna be playin' that thing in no time."

Sidney smiled weakly. "I hope so." It was all he could muster.

Pierre patted Sidney's shoulder and stood. "Come back round for a drink," He instructed. "Teh crew's been waitin' for yeh." Sidney nodded, and picked up his violin. He stood to his feet and followed Pierre below deck for a hot meal and a drink.

The crew were all sat around the old wood table, drinks in front of them. They had already eaten. Sidney ate alone in his private quarters. But while the crew was in higher spirits, he set his violin aside and picked up a glass. Pierre raised his glass. "To Jacques," He cheered. "Teh best damn Capitaine this ship'll ever see."

The crew raised their glasses. "To Jacques!"

"For Papa," Sidney murmured, and sipped at his glass. It was cold, but that didn't stop it from warming his throat as it went down.

The crew drank deep into the night. With every drink, Sidney felt a little more chipper. He stopped at four, knowing he shouldn't have too much. He let the crew continue on, settling instead for a soda with a scoop of ice cream. Near midnight, when they'd each had five or six glasses, the crew began to pester Sidney for a tune. Sidney, sober, was compliant. He picked up his violin and began to play a tune they knew quite well.

What will we do with a drunken sailor?
What will we do with a drunken sailor?
What will we do with a drunken sailor?
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Early in the morning!

Shave his belly with a rusty razor,
Shave his belly with a rusty razor,
Shave his belly with a rusty razor,
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Early in the morning!

Put him in a long boat till his sober,
Put him in a long boat till his sober,
Put him in a long boat till his sober,
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Early in the morning!

Stick him in a barrel with a hosepipe on him,
Stick him in a barrel with a hosepipe on him,
Stick him in a barrel with a hosepipe on him,
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Early in the morning!

Put him in the bed with the captains daughter,
Put him in the bed with the captains daughter,
Put him in the bed with the captains daughter,
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Early in the morning!

That's what we do with a drunken sailor,
That's what we do with a drunken sailor,
That's what we do with a drunken sailor,
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Early in the morning!

Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Way hay and up she rises,
Early in the morning!

Sidney played the tune happily as the crew belted out the words. He danced around the room, smiling at each crew member as he played. They danced and sang well into the night, and well into the early hours of the morning.

Sidney put his violin in its case and set it aside. He flopped onto his bed with a heavy sigh. He looked out through the porthole facing the east. The sun was beginning to rise, marking the tenth anniversary of his father's death. Sidney propped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. If he could get just a little bit of sleep before they docked. If they were on course, they intended to dock in Ireland and stay for a few nights.

A knock came to the door, startling Sidney awake. He sat upright, perched on his arms for support. Sidney looked out the porthole. The sun was high in the sky. It was around high noon. 

Pierre walked into the small quarters. It hardly fit a cot big enough for Sidney, and a small end table with a single drawer. There were two shelves nailed to the wall. One for clothes, and one for the souvenirs Sidney had collected over the years. His violin sat in its case, resting against the end table. A candle-lit lamp sat in the middle of the table, a box of matches and a small journal in the drawer. Sidney kept a bottle of ink and a quill in the drawer, as well as a handful of crayons. 

Pierre glanced around the room. "Yer welcome to move into yer papa's quarters," he said, his hands on his hips. "Fits yeh better than this." No one had moved into the Captain's quarters, even after Pierre became Captain. It remained a vacant room. Pierre wanted to leave it open for Sidney, so that when he outgrew the small cabin he had, he could take on his father's cabin and ship.

Sidney shook his head. "It doesn't feel right." He slid over to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over. The wooden floorboards were cold under his bare feet. Sidney stepped into his boots and laced them up. He stood upright and saluted Pierre. "Any duties for me today, sir?" 

Pierre only laughed, swatting at Sidney's hand. "None of that, soldier," he commanded. "Yer chores fer today are to play that fiddle'a yers an' keep us in higher spirits." Sidney nodded, and picked up his violin case. Pierre watched for a moment, then left the room. 

Sidney set it on the bed and wrapped his sandy hair in the tie he kept around his wrist, so it was out of his face. He picked up the violin case and headed towards the bow, where he placed the case on the floor and opened it. He tuned his violin, picked up the bow, and began to play. He watched the horizon as he played, and the sun's reflection glinting on the water. The crew mopping the deck smiled and worked in a rhythm. Sidney spent the afternoon playing his violin, making his way round the ship, above and below deck. 

Sidney wasn't as strong as the other crew members, but this was how he felt important. It was up to him to keep everyone in high spirits, so that no matter the wave, no matter the cloud, they would get through it and have a reason to celebrate. That was what his father taught him. He would help when he was needed, but as the crew consisted of twenty-two people, Sidney's role became the musician.