A Pirate's Revenge

Chapter Three - Luka

Kit and I sat in our cell, along with three crewmen from our ship. The girls sat in the cell across from us.

I took in our surroundings. Light from the lanterns spaced around the hold dimly illuminated barrels (which most likely contained rum and fresh water), crates, and boxes.

Voices and footsteps brought me back. I looked toward the stairwell and watched two of the pirates enter the hold. One was dark-haired, and the other was a shaggy blonde.

"Maggie wants a crate of produce up in the galley. You start scrubbin', and I'll come back to help," the dark-haired one said.

"Stop ordering me around, Marcus," came the reply.

"I'm yer senior officer, George. Now do as you're told," Marcus retorted.

"We don't got no senior officers 'ere, Marcus; we're pirates, not some king's naval sheep," George scoffed.

The double negative scraped my nerves but I didn't interject.

Marcus fixed George with a glare that made him retreat. "All right, Ima scrubbin', Ima scrubbin'," George said hastily.

I watched Marcus grab a crowbar and pry the top off of a crate. Satisfied with its contents, he picked up the crate and took it up the stairs, supposedly to the galley.

George snared a mop and bucket from the corner and set to work swabbing the deck. Shortly, Marcus came back, true to his word, and assisted George.
 
As the pirate called George worked his way toward my cell, the light from one of the lanterns illuminated his face, confirming what I had suspected from the sound of his voice.

"How old are you?" I asked him in my accented English.

He puffed out his chest proudly. "Just turned fifteen last week," he said.

Marcus turned to him swiftly and thwacked him over the head with the back of his hand.

"Ow! What was that for?!" George demanded.

"Not supposed to talk with the prisoners. You know that, " he hissed sternly.

"Don't see the 'arm in 'avin' a little convers- coversant-" George said in a wounded voice.

"Conversation?" I supplied.

"What 'e said," the blonde boy finished with a nod.

"You questioning orders? Got mutiny on your mind, boy?" Marcus sneered threateningly.

"Course not!" George looked horrified. "And when did Cappin order us not ta talk to 'em?"

Marcus gained a flush on his neck and his lips pursed.

Before blood could be drawn, I continued my inquiry. "What's a boy like you doing on a vessel of this... Trade?"

He frowned. "I'm not a boy, but if you must know-"

"George, stop yappin', and start workin'," Marcus interrupted.

"I am workin'!" He swirled his mop around to prove the point. He was silent for a moment. "About four years ago, " Marcus tipped his head back exasperated, but let him finish, "this 'ere ship was sailin' 'round Corquey. Now, I lived there with my da, but 'e beat me somethin' awful." Marcus muttered something about wanting to do some beating himself, but George glared at an "innocent"back.

"The Captain 'ad docked for a supply run, and 'e saw my ole da boxin' my ears. 'E tried ta get 'im ta stop, but Da was stone drunk. Needless ta say, it didn't do much good.

"That night, I packed what few things I 'ad and 'ightailed to the docks. I found the Captain and begged 'im ta take me on. Been 'ere ever since."

"So this Captain of yours is kind hearted? And he's a pirate?" I asked skeptically.

"Oh, 'e's a damn good pirate, pardon me, ladies, but 'e's got a soft spot for kids with bad parents, like me, or no parents, like Richy. Probably 'cause-"

"That's enough, George," Marcus cut him off, but my curiosity was peaked.

"'E'd 'ave found eventually, I reckon. So why not tell 'im now?" George protested.

"It's not your story to tell, that's why."

The younger boy rolled his eyes, looked at me, and said, "Cappin Willison got the job when 'e was fifteen, because the old Cappin Willison, 'is father you know, died. I reckon that's why 'e takes on kids like Ricky and 'Aden. And me," he added as an afterthought.

"Dodgast, George, when are you gonna learn to shut your trap?" Marcus demanded.
  
"When it needs shuttin' that's when."

Recognizing the beginnings of a brawl, I cut in. "Who's Richy?"

"Oh, 'e's the little Black boy we picked up on the coast of Africa 'bout six months past," George supplied . "Says 'is master made 'im steal things, and when 'e got caught, the master beat 'im somthin' terrible."

George was obviously a wealth of information. I stored that nugget away for the future.

Coming out of my reverie, I observed Marcus and George on the brink of coming to fists.

Just then, another pirate came down the stairs.

"What's all the fuss down here, boys?" he asked.

"Marcus keeps yellin' at me fer talkin' to the prisoners, but I wasn't doin' no harm, Christian, honest!" George cried.

"Well sure you weren't," Christian said in a placating manner. "But Cappin's put First Mate in charge of this lot, and you know 'im. When 'e puts First Mate in charge, 'e means business. Now, you'd better do as Marcus says, and keep quiet, y'ear?"

"Yessir," George mumbled as Marcus crossed his arms triumphantly.

"Whassat? Cain't 'ear nothin', " said Christian, cupping a hand around his ear.

"Yessir!" The boy shouted.

Christian winced. "No need to blow my ears off. Now go on up."

As Christian and George switched places, an idea started to form in my mind. Up until that point, the girls had stayed pretty quiet, only whispering to each other occasionally. Then, Rosamarie spoke up, saying, "Luka, what are we going to do?"

"Don't worry, I've got a plan." I smiled reassuringly at her.

Kit scooched toward me. "You don't have a plan, do you," he murmured in my ear.

"Actually, I just might."

He sighed. "This had better be a better plan than that time you suggested sledding down the castle stairs on a feather mattress."

"Hey, how was I supposed to know Gerty was going to come around the corner with a tray of jelly pastries right as we got to the bottom of the steps? Also, we we're eight."

"Yeah, and I was dumb enough to listen to you. Never again," he smiled at Rosamarie when she stifled a giggle behind her hand.

I sat quiet for a couple more minutes before standing up and clearing my throat to gain the attention of our captors.

"Do the pirates here issue challenges?" I asked.

"Whadya mean? " Christian asked suspiciously.

"I mean, do you challenge one another to duels, swordfights?"

"'Course we do, what kind of pirates to you take us for?"

"Very well then. I challenge your First Mate to a challenge. We fight until one of us yields or dies, preferably not the latter. If I win, you let us all go unharmed. If he wins, we all stay as part of your crew, subservient to the good Captain Willison."

Following my challenge, the sound of boots on the stairs came echoing toward us.

Marcus and Christian leaned on their mops and laughed quietly.

I looked towards the stairwell again and witnessed with horror the arrival of a girl around my age. Not just any girl, either, but the same one from the night before.

I sucked in a breath and looked at Kit when she smiled.

"Challenge accepted."