1680 Port Royal, Jamaica
Along the coast of Kingston Harbour, the Caribbean ocean sparkled bright blue and white, dappled prettily by rippling golden rays of sunlight. The air was alive with screeching seagulls, excited voices, and the rhythmic creaking of large galleons rocking up and down as the ocean beckoned for the ships to leave their ports and venture out into the wide blue yonder.
It was early in the day and the impressively sized English port was making itself ready to bid farewell to several of their ships. Men scurried about loading cargo, crates of food and supplies, endless piles of rope, and countless other types of equipment needed for the months journeys they would all be taking. Some of the ships were owned by marketeers and tradesmen who traveled far east in order to purchase spices and exotic materials hard to find in this region of the world. Others were servitude ships traveling to uncolonized areas in search of slaves. One ship in particular had its own specialized agenda.
It was the era of the Buccaneers, or "Privateers" as the English insisted on referring to them, and the ongoing struggle against the Spaniards for territory and money was at its height. The Royal family had decreed that Buccaneers were allowed to attack and pillage Spanish galleons and ports in the name of the Queen as long as they had been issued a "Letter of Marque" which granted them permission to pillage and plunder, as long as a percentage was shared with Her Majesty.
And so, the Golden Age of Piracy was born.
Standing tall and silent, among the throng of bustling men, Captain Arthur Randall stared intently at his motley crew as they assembled before him. Forty men of varying ages and backgrounds stared dumbly back at him awaiting his commands. Randall was an officer of the Royal Navy who had been reassigned to oversee the shipping practices in Jamaica. There had been concerns over the handling of trades and the often rumored ill mannered and uncouth nature of the Pirates working for the English and so Randall had been sent to whip them all into a submissive state.
He understood that the rough and dangerous nature of pirates was what made them so successful in commandeering larger Spanish galleons and returning with prized cargo and victory, but he also knew that a wild dog, untethered, would eventually bite the hand that feeds.
"Attention!" He bellowed, inwardly pleased as his noisy crew snapped their heads up and straightened their backs upon hearing his voice. "Today we sail aboard The Collingwood with a new intention in mind."
A low murmur rumbled through the crew; they all sensed something was amiss.
"I have received a new order from His Majesty." He continued, removing a scrolled parchment from the inner pocket of his deep blue coat. The crew were all dressed in Admiralty issued "slops", contracted uniforms which had to be purchased by the weaker. Several of the crewmen had bits and pieces of the outfit, shrunk Kersey wool jacket, Welsh red under oats and cheap linen pants with buckled shoes, but for the most part they all looked as if they belonged on one ship."We are to take a course back to London."
"London?!" Shouted one nearly toothless pirate."Why be we goin' aft t' London?"
"We have a special mission, a secret mission." Randall smiled tightly, looking over the paper."If you have any qualms about this, please remove yourself from my crew and find your own way out of Port Royal."
That ended any more questions.
"This be crazy!" grumbled Pietro, a Frenchman who had just signed onto the ship."I'm here t' make doubloons, not go on secret missions!"
Lucius, another Frenchman, nodded his head in agreement, "We should find a way t' make it worthwhile " he winked, his nearly toothless mouth hung slightly agape signaling his simple mind and nature.
Several fellow pirates turned their attentions away from the pair; it appeared as if their captain had taken to quarreling with a strange man who wore an outfit totally unfamiliar to them.
One of the pirates pointed to the pair "Who be that slant eyed man?" He asked.
"You idiot! That's t' owner o' t' Dragon Palace!" Pietro smacked the younger pirate across the back of his head."That be Lau! He owns t' lasss!" he exclaimed.
Lucius chuckled. "I like his lasses. They be always clean."
"I expressed my disdain for boarding a lady of questionable activities on my ship!" Randall raised his voice and loomed menacingly over the calm man who was dressed in a long robe of jade green and gold. Beside him stood a beautiful petite woman with black almond shaped eyes and inky hair done up in an intricate twin bun style. Her clothing was just as odd, robes cut short to reveal her shapely legs and sash cinched tight around her tiny waist which accentuated ample breasts. The pirates ceased working and ogled without shame at the delicious fare. "Clearly you refuse to respect my authority!" He shouted angrily.
"Ran Mao is not questionable." Lau slyly purred, "It is most obvious that she is a Prostitute."
"Disgusting!" Randall hissed, turning away from the man." I am well aware that my men have procured your services plenty of times, however, my ship is for business and business only, Lau."
"Is it true that your business this time will not garner them any loot?" Lau stated pointedly.
Turning back to face Lau, Randall regarded him with a contemptuous snort." Our mission is a decree from the Royal Palace-"
"Pirates do not care about decrees." Lau interrupted, "They take what they want when they are hungry." Placing his arm around Ran Mao's waist, he slid his hand up her front and brazenly squeezed one of her full breasts, earning a giggle from the girl." If they are not sated, they will find something else to eat." He smiled, his deep brown eyes flitted towards the horde of pirate onlookers watching from above. "You appear to contain quoite the healthy rump, I dare say."
As if on cue, the ship's main deck erupted in whistles and catcalls from the delighted onlookers.
Randall opened his mouth but shut it immediately as his mind went into the varying scenarios of what could have been on the ship during this mission. This was quite possibly the most important task that had ever been entrusted with him. It was a chance for him to prove himself ready to go back to the Royal Navy, to leave this godforsaken Island, two and his place amongst the lower-class Buccaneers he had come to hate so much. It was his final chance to go back to a civilization he missed terribly.
Plus, he wished no harm upon his own rump.
"Proceed." He grunted, moving to the side and motioning the pair to board the ship." However, I warn you not to become involved too deeply with these men. And do not even think of giving them anything aside from alcohol."
Lao bowed. "But of course."
By late morning the ship drew up its anchor and pushed off into the choppy waters of the caribbean. Randall stood at the helm, alert to the activities circulating around him. He was never unaware of his surroundings; like a sentinel he watched over everyone and everything. There was not an ounce of care for his crew as individuals, however, as a whole the ship had to run at top form.
The clicking of light booted footsteps behind him caught Randall's attention. "What is it, Abberline.?" He muttered, irritated by the interruption in his thinking process. He recognized the small footed sound of his first officer and instantly felt his ire rise.
"Sir, would you please come down to your office." Lieutenant Frederick Abberline was the only other person on the ship who had the same background and upbringing as Randall. He was an eager young man with good intentions and steadfast loyalty towards his captain. Unfortunately, his attempts at winning over his superior were often thwarted by Randall's obnoxious attitude.
"What for?" Randall snapped, turning around to face the officer."How imperative is my presence down there?"
"Ah, well…." Abberline scratched the back of his wavy red hair and felt his anxiety burning in the pit of his stomach."You see, sir, well, he's….crying." He informed him in a lowered voice.
Rolling his eyes, Randall turned around again to face the horizon and waved Abberline away as if shooing an annoying fly ."My orders were to bring him back, not coddle a sniveling child." His irritation was evident "You go and comfort him, I've work to do here."
Abberline saluted his captain and hurried down the steps leading to the main deck. Pirates were everywhere, several carpenters were checking their supplies with the quartermaster while the rest of the crew handled the rigging, making sure the sails were set properly. The young man often felt useless on a ship of this form, what with his training being amongst a finer class of people, but he enjoyed the humble state of the men and their colorful characters.
Passing one of the ship's navigators, Abberline reminded him to bring a copy of the star map to the captain before nightfall. Once he was sure that he was that no other sailor was around, Abberline ducked into the captain's office, locked the heavy wood and iron door and made a beeline to the back behind the Randall's ale irately carved and embellished gold and black ivory desk.
There was a secret hidden door which would only open if you pressed against the fourth wood panel on the bottom left.
As Abberline pushed the sliding door to the side, he again turned around and took a deep breath. No one, absolutely no one could enter past this door except for Randall and himself.
"Ciel?" He whispered gently, striking a match against the bottom of his boot and and lighting a sconce candle inside the inner wall of the hidden room."Do not be afraid, it's me, Fred."
A lone ocean blue eye peeked through a slitted eyelid past ebony tinted thick lashes.
"Are you still upset?" Abberline removed his feathered hat and slid the door closed behind him. The room was a tiny space, housing only a single bed and a box filled with books and clothes. The walls were lined with thin sheets of metal and the ceiling had been double boarded with thick planks of wood. There were no windows except for a round porthole which had been painted over with dried out tar.
Air came through the space underneath the door and so a lit candle could only be withstood for a few minutes at a time.
Abberline eased himself on the bed where Ciel Phantomhive had laid himself. "I've some candy for you." Abberline offered, fishing out some sugar cubes from his pocket."Would you like some?"
The young boy bit his lower lip and nodded quietly. He was dressed in a simple longsleeved white soft linen shirt and cream colored breaches. His thin body and petite face Gableway his ago. At only 15 years old, he had become the reason why a ship filled with pirates was now headed towards England.
Reaching out with a trembling hand, Ciel scooped the cubes from Abberlines Palm and quickly stuffed them into his mouth. Amused by the unbearably cute act, Abberline smiled."That's a good boy! I will make sure to bring you as many sweets to make this voyage more pleasant for you!"
Ciel munched away at the cubes, balling up his fists and pressing them against his chest. The Lieutenant felt a pang of sympathy in his heart for the pint sized boy, noting how perfectly smooth and pale his face was, he knew that months spent hidden in the dark, rolling along the often tumultuous seas, would not allow the child a healthy trip.
He would have to make sure to bring him plenty of meat and fruit. He thought to himself.
"Sir?"
The mouselike whisper startled Abberline, he looked down at Ciel and furrowed his brows."Yes?" He responded placing his hand atop the boy's head.
"Will I make it to London?" Ciel whimpered, burying half his face underneath the thin blanket which covered him like a shroud. His waif-like body trembled terribly from the dampness of the room and there was barely any flesh to his bones that could protect him from the cold.
Abberline sighed deeply, rubbing his fingers into Ciel's scalp in an attempt to soothe him. How could he quell the fears of this child? He thought miserably. This was no ordinary passenger, no, not Ciel Phantomhive. All one had to do was stare at the hauntingly beautiful and refined face of a young man born and bred amongst aristocrats and understand that his past had been filled with pain and suffering.
His fingertips brushed past the thick thread which held an eyepatch over Ciel's right eye. A shiver ran up Abberlines spine and the sympathy he had felt before turned into woefulness.
"I will protect you, Ciel." Abberline promised, patting the boy's head."I swear I will."
"Sir, am I safe here?" Ciel sniffed, rubbing his eye with the bedsheets.
"Before your father passed, I had promised that I would mind you, protect you, and bring you home if you were in mortal danger, did I not?"
"Y-Yes sir, you did."
"Chin up, lad!" Abberline playfully ruffled Ciel's grey blue crown "The House of Phantomhive may have been relocated to another country, but the pride of your historical name lives on within you. If I cannot bring you back to your rightful place, I will cut my throat with this very saber." He gestured to the sword and hilt he carried on his side.
Ciel widened his eye, suddenly sitting up in his bed. "No! Please do not say that!" He cried.
Placing both hands on Ciel's shoulders, Abberline gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Give me your trust, Ciel. I will not fail you." He stated firmly.
Still fearful with the entire plan and execution, Ciel chewed relentlessly on his bottom lip. He had only know Abberline for a month, having had to sit in meetings with him and Randall as the plot to bring him back to his family in secret was being hashed out. But somehow, he knew he could trust the eager Lieutenant. Aberline had been stationed as a guard of sorts to look after the tradesman's ships and cargo in Port Royal. When they had arrived, Vincent instructed Abberline to keep a constant eye over his only son.
Somehow, the highborn father had felt a need to have his son protected during their stay on the island. Abberline was most aggrieved over his failure to have saved Ciel from whatever nightmare he had been thrown into, but he would not make that same mistake twice.
"I am in gratitude, sir. Thank you." Ciel whispered, laying back down in his bed as a surge of exhaustion overtook his frail body."I will place my life in your hands."
"I best be off." Abberline carefully stood up from the bed, as to not whack his head on the low ceiling, and covered Ciel's body with the rest of the sheets. It was uncommonly cool in the small room and he feared the child becoming ill during the voyage.
No one could know of their prized charge.
Ciel Phantomhive was the last of a wealthy lineage. His family had ties to English royalty and they owned major trading companies in both London and India. The child was worth a ridiculous amount in both monies and land and so his safety and security was paramount.
About two months ago, his family had been massacred.
Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive had taken a great liking to Jamaica, citing the tropical climate as most exotic. As customary among those who are overly indulged with delicacies and riches, they pampered themselves with a family trip in order to get away from the English upper crust social circle they had grown bored with.
Days were spent lounging on the sandy private beach they owned, reveling in the warmth and breeze of perfect weather. The salted air and delicious foods mixed with music and entertainment from the locals brought joy and contentment to the trio. Ciel spent his days spinning and fishing while his parents went about their own business.
But the idyllic respite came to a devastating halt.
In the dead of night, a fire had erupted in their spacious mansion. It seemed to have begin near the front, effectively cutting them off from exiting out into the main road where other home souls clearly be seen. As they escaped through the back entryway of their vacation home, a horde of black hooded marauders awaited them with machetes raised high over their heads.
The next morning, the mutilated bodies of Vincent and Rachel were found strewn along the front of the charred house. Locals gossiped excitedly over the whereabouts of the teenaged son who went missing for several weeks. King Charles ordered Caption Randall and Lieutenant Abberline to investigate the crime and find the missing remains of the presumed dead Ciel, but whoever contracted the murders of the Phantomhive family had done so did such an expert way that not even the Royal Navy could find leads.
Until one night, during a seasonal festival held by the natives in the Palisadoes area of the island, a white faced and bloodied boy wearing tattered clothes staggered into the middle of a bonfire revelry. Dancers, musicians, and participants scattered, screaming that an "undead creature" or a "ghost" had come to claim their souls.
It was Ciel.
The child could not recall his previous whereabouts, nor could he remember most of the events of the murderous night in which his parents have been massacred and his home burnt to the ground. Recalling the hooded attackers caused him to fret and break down, and so they ceased asking him questions about that fateful night.
He was largely unharmed except for a gash across his right eye which was now blinded. It was obvious that he had been fed but tortured, however, the Mystery of what had happened to him was still yet to be solved and so his Majesty had ordered the child to be brought home under secrecy as to protect the lineage of thej Phantomhives.
Abberline did not trust the mission, not one bit. Why was the King so concerned about the Phantomhive family? He wondered as he stepped out of the secret room and slid the door back in its place. One thing he was sure of, and it broke him to his very core, was the feeling that Ciel was not being delivered into the hands of angels.
Abberline felt as if he were delivering a virgin sacrifice into the arms of the very devil himself.