Final Measure of Courage
The roll of drums and the toll of a bell fill the air, along with the sound of the crier's voice and the rumble of the trapdoor, followed by the clanking of chains. My last bit of courage leaves me as I shuffle forward to ascend the stairs.
It wasn't my fault my father had been a pirate. He had been a kind man, and I knew that he had loved me. But he was long dead now, resting in Fiddler's Green.
The seven of us step towards the nooses. I look to my left, at the boy next to me. No older then ten years old, most likely. My heart twinges in pain; he looks so much like my son, Jacob.
The boy opens his hand to look at a small object concealed in it. A piece of eight, I realize. Softly, almost inaudibly, he begins to sing.
"The king and his men stole the queen from her bed
And bound her in her bones
The seas be ours, and by the powers,
Where we will, we'll roam."
I find myself mouthing the words with him, tears forming in my eyes at this last act of defiance against our captors. I close my eyes, remembering how my father would sing it as a lullaby to me, when I was young.
On my right, another man haltingly starts the next part, as if recalling it from a far away place.
But as he continues, the whole assembly, as well as myself, find our voices.
"Yo ho, haul together,
Hoist the colors high…"
The words ring strong through the courtyard as I lift my head defiantly, knowing, somehow, all is not truly lost.
"Heave ho, thieves and beggars,
Never shall we die!"
Then the trapdoor drops from underneath me, and I know nothing more.