Awaiting Gallows

April 25th 1722 - Entry 1

I stayed up late last night thinking about what that man said. Did I want to go out onto the high seas? Yes. Yes I did. Would my father approve? Well, that's another question altogether. It isn't like he would shun me for it, oh no. He would do something considerably worse. He would be disappointed in me.
My father has lived his whole life on this farm, and I'm to be the next in line. I'm to do as my father says, all my childhood and adolescence, and take over the family business of farming when he dies. Just like he did for his father. And then my son would do the same. If I were to stray from that path, he would never forgive me.
On the other hand, I had always dreamed of escaping. Of sailing away from my obligations and problems. Off to become a man of purpose. Of fame and fortune. Of infamy. Now, I was being offered that option on a silver platter. Only problem is, it's slathered with a buck-ton of hot spice and sour juice. The question is, dare I take a bite, and see how it tastes?
This morning, I went about my chores in a daze, half because of my clouded mind, half because of sleep deprivation (and, admittedly, a hangover). At around eleven, I made my decision finally. This life was far too dull to continue, and the life of a privateer was full of opportunity worth my father's scorn. I left a note on the kitchen table, and set off. I didn't expect my parents to understand, but it still didn't feel right to not at least say goodbye in some way.
I rode Pip, my young buck of a horse, into town where I saw, right on the harbour, a large galley ship with shadowy figures moving about on the deck, preparing for castoff. The crew, as I came close enough to see them, were mottled and filthy, moving about in a drunken haze. They eyed me sillily as I tied Pip to a pole, and walked aboard.
"Oi, mate!" One of them jeered, "Crew members only! Now fuck off, you little turd!"
I eyed him coldly, "I have come to apply for a position on this crew. My name is Fredrick Callahan. Your captain himself asked me to come before castoff to join your crew."
"Did he now?" Another was slightly less drunk than the first man, "Captain Wethers hisself asked ye ter join us here? Well, I suppose we are a few hand short after that run in with them swashbucklers a while back."
I nodded, "He told me the same thing when he asked me."
So, I thought, the captain's name is Wethers, is it? Well then, that sounded fitting. A strong name for a strong privateer.
"Come on then, scamp," the man was saying, "Over here's the captains quarters. Let's see if yer let on."
I nodded and knocked on the door the man was gesturing to.
"Come in!"
I went cold instantly.
The voice inside was smooth, like silk being drawn across a bedspread. Nothing like the gruff and gravelly voice of the man who had come to see me.
I opened the door timidly. There was a man sitting behind a desk cluttered with maps and empty ale bottles. He wore a shining green and purple doublet. He smiled at me.
"Ah..." he said, "You aren't part of my crew, lad. Oh well, company's company. Come in."
I walked forward timidly. This clearly was not the man I had met in the pub yesterday. I decided to play it safe, and ask, "So... Uh... you're the captain of this vessel?"
He nodded. "And you are?"
"Uh... Fredrick Callahan, sir. I'm, uh, looking for a job on this ship of yours."
"Ah," he smiled, "fine ship, isn't she? The Cesare is one of the finest ships in her majesty's navy. How heartwarming it is to have such young and intrepid souls seeking a life on it."
I went cold once again. The black robed man had said the ship was called the Mongoose.
"So, lad, what can you do?"
"Uh.. come again, sir?"
"I mean, what are your skills? Talents?"
"Well, Uh... I worked on a farm, so.. I suppose all of the skills one might pick up there?"
"I see," he looked disappointed, "well, the art of feeding pigs slop won't come in much handy here. Unless of course, you intend to be the ship's chef!"
He chuckled at his own joke. I let him finish.
"So.." he continued, "Any good with knots? Any experience with a sword?"
"These are things I can learn," I replied hesitantly.
"Quite right, my boy, quite right. Oh well, come back in a half hour or so. Right before castoff. By then, I'll have had enough time to consider your request."
I nodded and walked out of the room. I decided that, no matter what he decided, I would not return. Clearly, the black robed man had been a drunken illusion, and I had known it was too good to be true. I had pushed my luck, and now I had to go home and live out my days like I was always meant to.
It was these thoughts that were occupying my head as I saw the smoke in the distance, in the direction of my farm.