Cross the Seven Seas For You
Chapter I: At the Beginning…
1579, county of Berkshire…
John Kirkland marched hastily into the main room of the State Apartments in the Windsor Castle. At the complete end of the room, sitting in all her dignity on a throne, was Queen Elisabeth I. She looked at him, deep in thoughts, with a worried face. She had summoned Kirkland, one of her protected privateers, in order to ask him a favor. A favor that would place the whole country of England in jeopardy if he'd fail. As the blonde man took off his large hat and knelt down in front of her, awaiting his mission, the queen sighed heavily.
-My dear Captain Kirkland, you do know the situation of our homeland, don't you?
-How can I not know, your Majesty? That bloody Russian git invaded the towns near river Thames with his ships filled with drunkards!
-You hit the spot, Captain. It is quite surprising, considering the fact that their Tsar, Ivan the Fourth, is not an enemy. He is deeply interested in keeping special trading rights with our kingdom, making all these attacks awkward. It seems Braginski rebelled against him.
She inhaled before continuing her small speech.
-I want you, Captain John Kirkland, to get to where he is with your army and make him turn around and go back to where he and his comrades belong.
-Pardon me for interrupting, your Highness, but it seems the river's navigation has been closed.
-I let it reopen this one time. If it meant to save England, than it has been done.
Captain Kirkland let out a silent sigh of relief.
-Is that all, your Highness?
-Yes, that is all. But remember; that Russian man you have mentioned, Misha Braginski, is very dangerous. I have heard almost all of his captives are never seen again, due to his heart-aching tortures and murders. You are our last hope, Kirkland. Francis Drake is out at sea, so if you ever get captured, we are doomed.
The captain swallowed his saliva. He too had heard of Braginski's murders and awful ways of treating his captives. John had a friend who fought against him, got taken and, just like the queen said, was never seen again. The mass killer also had a miniaturized version of him, his 15 year old son, Ivan. He was as terrifying as his father, and rumor had it he was the one that killed part of the captives in horrible ways. A nasty chill ran down his spine.
-Yes, I shall keep that in mind. And I know the country's fate rests in me, and I will not fail.
Elisabeth looked at him, proud of having such a man in her country.
-That's the spirit, lad. Now go, and make sure they won't ever come back.
John stood up, placed his hat back on his head and walked out of the room. His coach was waiting outside. He climbed in. Daniel Porter, one of his close friends, stared at him worryingly. The captain looked back, smiling. His head popped out through the window as he yelled to the driver in a determined and amused tone.
-To London, Grayson! We have a whole horde of Russians to beat!
A few days later, London, at the port of river Thames…
Captain Kirkland looked at his whole army waiting for his speech from a small wooden stand. The atmosphere was quite heavy, but a certain pride and desire to fight made it lighter as it crept deeper into the hearts of all the Englishmen. A cool breeze flew through John's blonde hair as his emerald green eyes met everyone else's. In the background, twelve heavily armed ships floated proudly, ready for battle. The ambitious captain looked towards his left at his son. He was the exact replica of him, only younger. The same messy blonde hair, thick yet trimmed eyebrows and incredible green eyes. If he were taller, the townspeople would've sworn they had seen Captain Kirkland in normal, farm boy clothes. He looked back at his father with slight fear in his eyes, but tried to smile. Finally, John spoke up.
-My dear men, the rebellious to its own government enemy attacked us again, taking possession of London (if not more) as its main goal. We all heard of Braginski's exploits from the extremely lucky captives that managed to escape his grasp, and there weren't many of them that did so. And let's remember that that drunken git is both England's enemy and Russia's rebel. I am positive he has dark intentions for us, and he's powerful and crazy enough to not get influenced by the tsar's rules. Therefore, let us pray God to help us win this battle. For the victory of England!
"For the victory of England!" confirmed the army, their cry echoing through the air. As they were cheering, John beckoned his son. The youngster immediately walked over, a bit stiffly, looked shyly into his father's eyes, glanced quickly at the ships and the army and finally back at him. Captain Kirkland smiled, knelt down and placed his hand on his son's right shoulder.
-Arthur, I will be leaving soon, and I need to ask you a favor.
-What is it you want from me, Father?
-Please take care of your older and younger brothers. Terence lives in Ireland right now, and I really do know you don't get along too well with the rest, but try to be nice. I am counting on you.
-But Father, they hate me! They beat me with sticks and kick me; they even stone me with small rocks!
-They don't hate you; they just… have difficulty expressing their feelings the right way.
John flinched a little, because he really needed a good reason to explain his sons' bad and sometimes violent behavior towards Arthur.
-Really?
-Yes. You are soon going to become a handsome young man, and you need to know how to be responsible. Please do that while I'll be in battle. It won't be long, only a few days or weeks. Nevertheless, care for your little brother Peter, and always act strong even if your brothers are being troublesome. Will you do that for me?
Arthur looked at him for a while, uncertain, but finally nodded. His father got up and ran his hand playfully through the boy's messy, spiky hair and bent down to hug him and kiss him on both cheeks. He turned to his men and yelled out at the top of his lungs:
-TO BATTLE!
-TO BATTLE! replied the army, quickly filling the ships and, after an hour, the navy float swam up the river, the captain's in the lead, with Arthur standing on the port, alone, suddenly hit by a wave of sadness and early nostalgia.
The black canon ball roared out of the canon, almost striking one of the English ships. Captain Kirkland ordered his men to fire, and blocked his ears as they did so. They had been battling for over two days, and so far they sunk three Russian ships out of the thirteen. Meanwhile, the enemy sent two to the bottom of the North Sea, making the number of ships equal. John ducked behind the mast, aimed and shot four Russians on the ship a few feet from theirs. He rapidly blew the smoke away from the opening of his handgun and commanded his men to fire another canon. After blocking his ears for the hundredth time, he evaluated the battleground with all the consciousness he still had after two sleepless days filled with fear of being shot out of the blue or blown fifty feet into the air at any moment. In order to stop the invasion, he had to kill a certain person; and that person was no one else than Misha Braginski. The heartless Russian captain was in the biggest ship, which was a hundred feet from Kirkland's and protected by the rest of the enemy ships. If only he could get there incognito and finish him off… Considering the battle, it was impossible, men were shot here and there. Suddenly, John threw himself on the hard wooden floor and avoided a bullet just in time. But at that moment, an idea appeared in his mind. He would be playing a dangerous game with Death, but it was the only way. Swallowing his saliva that gathered in his mouth because of his intense fear, he crawled towards the back of the ship, stood up, made sure he was well seen, waited a few seconds that seemed to have the length of full hours, grabbed himself by the chest near the heart when he heard a gunshot, demonstrated a face of extreme pain, wobbled a bit and (somewhat "accidentally") threw himself off the deck and fell straight into the cold water. He winced in (this time real) pain but smiled to himself. The first part of his plan worked, now was the time for the second part. He took the deepest breath of his life and disappeared in the slightly murky water. He could hear muffled canon and gun shots, nearly inaudible screams and splashes of dead corpses falling in the sea. John began swimming, feeling cold in every inch of his body, his breath running short surprisingly quickly. He saw the submerged parts of his and the Russians' ships and, in order to breathe, he crept up behind one of them and surfaced. He tried breathing quietly, which was a hard thing to do. His heart was beating like a drum, pumping his blood so fast John felt sick. He was a few ships away from his goal, and all he had to do was to swim behind each one of them to rest and make sure not to be seen. As he crossed this way all the ships, he finally found himself behind the one he was looking for. Catching his breath heavily, he saw, to his amazement, a rope dangling from the deck. He pulled it, trying to see if it was attached and started heaving himself up. When he got to the top, he looked around and saw absolutely no one on deck. He climbed on board, took out his sword and walked quietly towards the door that led according to him to the captain's headquarters. He turned the golden doorknob and, as silently as he could, descended the stairs. Every time he stepped downwards, he could hear the beat of his heart in his ears, and he felt a huge knot in his stomach. What if Braginski was hiding, waiting for a chance to slice him with his saber? What if, as soon as he'd step on the floor, his own men would accidentally blow this ship up? His head filled with these questions, he was two steps away from the final door separating him from Braginski. He looked through the keyhole, breathing as quietly as it was possible for him, nearly choking, and saw nothing. Finally, he broke the door down after kicking it violently once and leaped towards the middle of the room. He turned around and grinned.
-So here you are, Misha…
To be continued…
