Black Handed

Chapter I: The End

Hello Everyone and welcome to another adventure with I, your wonderful host this evening. We are about to embark on an adventure. I won't claim that it's the most original piece you've read in all your life but if you enjoy depth, detailed characters, and a good cry, you're in the right place. If you enjoy please do give me a like and comment any of your thoughts. Enjoy!

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Once there was a grey sea to the north of the world, bordering the edge of the earth. Not a soul would ever claim that this sea belonged to a single man. Yet, not a man would ever claim that the sea was ruled by none. But every man would deny that it was ruled by the one next to him. And even those who were claimed as terrors of the sea ordinarily held it with respect. One such man, with the title of Captain Nicolaus, Reach the Ridiculed, sailed the Ocean in the year 1789. He was by no means the most successful or even longest sailed, but he was truly one of the most hated and most unforgiving. Never a grudge to hold or bargain to keep, he raided town after town. His main purpose: surviving at sea. Colony after the little colony was burnt to the ground under his tyranny. His crew grew bold and gutsy. They were tight knit and cared for not a soul in the world other than the ones aboard their ship. They were all ruthless, perverse, creatures. His second mate was the one with exceptionally sadistic intentions. Larky was the most creative soul aboard this ship. His cunning was respected and he had won his position, even with his young age. He had slaughtered hundreds of men, women, and children. Mercy was forgotten, hell's gait sure alongside death. But what was death to a pirate such as he? Together they sat in wait, holding out until they needed more supplies, and desired more lavish living quarters. More, more, more. This was the way of these men.

We will begin this journey far from the ship, far from where the boat would ever sail. This city was filled with people. The population was ever growing. Being next to the sea, trade was good. Hearts were high despite dirty streets and rough living conditions. It was mid-May. This meant cool nights and mild days filled with running children, the barking of dogs, and men calling out in the streets to alert people that they possessed the freshest goods. Liverpool was a sight to behold.

That morning had been a typical one on the port. Many men bustled about here and there. Boys with strong arms and hearty spirits carried sacks of potatoes, boxes of fine wine and other spirits, as well as more delicate things they had been paid heavily to transport. Things like fine jewels and precious metals, pottery, and paintings slaved over meticulously over the course of months. They were all vivaciously protected here. It was a jolly ship full of decent men with now heavier pockets. A well-paid man is a content man, and a content man is a prideful one. The crew held great loyalties to those with items kept aboard. This crew was not even comparable to that of the pirates who sailed this sea aside them. They were hearty creatures, with much more respectable natures. They were tall, muscular, and determined to make an honest living. 

Among these beastly people was a young man who stuck out as somewhat of a sore thumb.

James wasn't the strongest man aboard by any stretch of the imagination. His shoulders, however broad, were not heavily muscled. He was of the most basic build and had slowly built up his true strength. At the ripe age of 20, James had managed to reach 5 feet and 8 inches that he bore proudly. His fair hair and green irises made him a handsome boy barely transitioned into a man. Flushed cheeks and wide eyed look however, made him look younger than one might think. This vexed him on the occasion. But he knew this day would come when he would be treated in a way he had earned. Just not today.

For today was the day that James life changed forever, perhaps even resulting in some good. Even if it wouldn't appear evident until the bitter end of his story.

The day had started out normal. His daily life wasn't anything especially distinct. Waking up in the morning he analyzed his day ahead. He dressed accordingly, packed his final assortment of necessities, and made his way downstairs to meet his family. He ate slices of freshly baked bread, and a cooked egg for breakfast. James would probably have prefered to go without, but they had insisted considering he wouldn't have a home-cooked meal again for a long, long time. He did bicker though, being it a part of his nature to question. It wasn't as if he was going to be expanding vast amounts of energy. He wasn't boarding the ship to work. You see, James had soft hands. They were not callous as the other men aboard. They were soft but strong, and meticulous.