Arthur wasn't exactly used to being out at sea, especially on a boat as small as this one and filled with this many people. It didn't help that almost everyone here was an immigrant, so he couldn't understand what anyone was talking about. He only understood one person, and that was the tall Russian one who scarcely came out onto the deck. But, the one thing Arthur could actually stand about being on this boat was how quiet it was. That thought was immediately followed by the sound of gunfire.
A tall Frenchman, by the name of François, strode down the deck of his ship. It was large, clearly a pirate ship, with a mast that reached the clouds and flags with vibrant colours. He held his cutlass by his scabbard, as if preparing to ready it. A cravat was tucked neatly under the collar of his tailcoat, giving him a more posh look than most pirates. He looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with his First Mate, Antonio. Antonio was Spanish, but he spoke French well enough for François to have meaningful conversations with him.
"Antonio?"
"Ouais?"
"Commencer à tirer, s'il vous plait."
Arthur remembered Ivan grabbing him and bringing him down to the bilge, and that was all. He was still awake, of course, but he didn't dare open his eyes. All he knew was that he was huddled in Ivan's arms like a coward.
The pirates had come earlier, wreaking havoc, and from what he could tell, he and Ivan were the only ones left.
As soon as the footsteps on deck stopped, and Arthur thought that maybe the pirates had left, the door swung open, and a bullet very nearly grazed his arm. A pirate- François, to be exact,- stood in the doorway, a pistol with smoke billowing out of the barrel in his hand. François looked downwards. Arthur looked like how a cat would if you dunked it in cold water.
Arthur was still in Ivan's arms as the Russian stood up to face the Frenchman. There was a moment of silence, before François drew his gun, aimed it at Ivan, and fired. Arthur's breath caught in his throat when Ivan dropped him, the Russian's arms suddenly becoming limp. Arthur had no voice to say anything. He simply stood there as François brought the butt of his gun on him.
Arthur didn't know it, but it had been three hours since François had showed himself. He only woke up when he heard the voices of people. He tried to move, but found that he was strapped against something. His hands were bound as well. He opened his eyes, but was greeted with only darkness. At first, he wondered if the pirate had stabbed his eyes, but he quickly realized that it was just a blindfold. It was just then that he noticed that something warm was pressed against his back.
"...Comrade? Is that you?"
Ivan's familiar, accented voice comforted Arthur a bit. At least he knew that Ivan was there.
"Yeah," came Arthur's hushed reply.
"Are you hurt, comrade?"
"No. I probably have quite a bump on my head, but nothing hurts."
"That's good. I can't tell, but... I think they patched me up. Do you believe we should try to escape?"
Arthur scoffed rather loudly.
"Of course not. We're blindfolded, we don't know where we are, and-"
Arthur got caught off as a voice barked an order in french. Arthur had never heard him speak before, but he was certain that this voice belonged to François. His blindfold was ripped off, along with Ivan's, and once Arthur's eyes adjusted to the sun, he had to remind himself not to stare at the French Captain.
François was fair skinned, and he wore a dark red tailcoat, along with tight, navy blue pants. His hair drawn back in a knot at the back of his head, and even though it was wind blown, it still looked perfect.
Arthur's eyes trailed down to François' belt, where he held his weapons. There was his scabbard with the cutlass inside, a holster with the pistol in which he shot Ivan, and a dagger.
He shot Ivan, you idiot. Stop fawning over him, Arthur thought angrily.
Arthur spoke the only French he knew;
"Je te deteste."
François chuckled softly.
"Mon cher, you try to hard to upset me."
"My name is Arthur Kirkland, and you will refer to me as such."
"I don't believe that you are in the position to be ordering me around, mon cher."
François bared his teeth in a cocky grin, then quickly turned to Antonio, giving out another French command. Antonio nodded, and grabbed Arthur's arm. Two people took Ivan; one, a muscled man with slicked back blond hair, the other a tall blond with glasses and a deadpan expression. Ivan struggled, of course, but the two men overpowered him easily. Soon, both the Russian and English men were taken down into the Captain's cabin.
Translations:
Ouais? - Yeah?
Commencer à tirer, s'il vous plait. - Start shooting/firing, please.
Je te deteste. - I hate you.
Mon cher - My love/darling