Come ye, come all, to hear a tale of the high seas. This here be a swash-buckling adventure with plenty of bodice-ripping suss, sword-fights, back-stabbing and front-stabbing, and of course love. All things that make up a foine Pirating adventure. This is my first stab at a fic on here, so please be kind. I have a bunch more chapters up on fanficga, so if you want me to keep posting here, I will. Please tell me what you think!
The sun of the seven seas shines down on a lone ship. Its sails glisten like ivory against a turquoise sea, inlaid into a ship of ebony. It is made of wood, just like any other ship, but its planks have been painted black in deference to its profession. Oh, you say a ship can't have a personality? Then you're not seeing the way this one sails through the waves; pushing through the water with menacing purpose. All the sails have been let to allow for optimum speed, and a full crew scrambles like ants to keep her sailing true and straight.
Or maybe it is the lone figure at the wheel that gives it its drive and direction. He stands at the helm, legs splayed apart in deference to the unsteady nature of the meeting of wood and wave. He himself looks rooted to the spot, his two hands gripping the wheel at two and ten o'clock. Fitted boots and tight buckskin trousers meld to his ramrod straight body. The only softness in his stance, the whipping of his white lawn shirt and curly dark locks in the wind. His coat lays tossed aside on the nearest crate, as his gaze stays focused on the quarry ahead. His potent blue eyes focused and hard.
The tiniest etchings of a ship can be seen off in the distance, separated from the sea by only a few marks of the horizon. Derek doesn't have to see the shape of the sails or the tilt of the bow to know what ship it is, or even whose captaining it. He knows exactly who it is. He's been searching for just this ship, just this opportunity for five long years. For it wasn't just any ship. It was his ship. And the captain was his wife.
Five years ago….
"Approach from the south, but keep all guns at the ready." He calls to his first mate as they approach what appears to be a dead in the water ship. "They're flying the white flag, but it could be a trap."
"Aye, aye, Captain." His first mate calls back fastidiously before shooting down the ladder to make his orders come true.
Captain, now that has a nice ring to it. It's been a long time in coming. Ever since he was a little boy, playing on the sands of Tortuga, his dream has been to captain his own ship. And not just any ship. The swiftest and most feared of the Caribbean: the governor's own "Pirate's Bounty." Let's just say that the governor has his own special blend of humor. For everyone knew that if a pirate ever got a hold of his ship, there wouldn't be a ship that could catch them. And hence their hold would definitely be bountiful.
Except no pirates at present own the ship. It was his ship. Or at least it was going to be as soon as he accomplished his mission for the governor. A mission that would change his life in more ways than one, but on that he had been training his entire life to accomplish. He had grown up as a poor little waif of a lad, the progeny of a father left at sea long before he had left his leading strings. He has a fuzzy recollection of a warm masculine voice and kind blue eyes, but nothing more. The sea is a temperamental beast that took his father away, and their only source of income, only to blow in a plethora of men that tried to take his father's place in his mother's bed.
None ever lasted that long, the long shadow of his father placing a pall over the proceedings. As time went on, the intervals between men became shorter and the visits became more perfunctory. And he started spending more and more time away from the house. The one particular morning that changed his life stemming from his desire to imitate a 'customer's' ability to send a pebble skipping smoothly along the water's surface and to also get as far away from said 'customer' as possible.
The first pebble he throws doesn't even make it into the water. It bounces off of a rock or two before it plunks unceremoniously into the shallow area. He picks up another one and tries again. This time it sails far enough away, but it doesn't skip. Not anywhere close. It just soars through the air and sinks below the surface. This is a lot harder than he thought it was going to be. Just how had the man shaped his hand to get it to fly so flat and close to the surface? He curls up his brow in concentration and tries to imitate the movement of the man's hand. This time the stone flies true; hopping and skipping not once, but twice.
His mouth is wide with amazement, when he hears a low voice call out behind him, "You know, if you really want it to fly, you should try the smoother, flat ones."
He had been so surprised by the unexpected voice behind him, that he had almost tripped and followed his stones off of the barnacle-encrusted rocks. But the man had caught him and pulled him back with a gentle smile. A smile that reminded him of his own lost father. But also a smile that he recognized as that belonging to the governor-general of the island: Governor Webber. The Governor wears the tan knee-capped pants and lawn shirt of the upper crust, but his usual elaborately-trimmed coats and pomaded wig is lacking. He is only a man taking a stroll along the community beaches of Tortuga. And he is only a little boy trying to learn the mystery of the skipping stones.
Derek smiles as he remembers the usually dignified governor scouring the beach for the perfect skipping stone. He remembers the feel of his arms encircling his to shape his arm in the perfect skipping posture. He must have stayed helping him for a good half an hour until the governor's aide came running down the beach in search of the man himself. Governor Webber had sighed the sound of the weary, his knees cracking as he tried to rise from a too-long crouched position. He had returned to his pampered mansion just as silently as he had come, but not before a formal invite was tendered to Derek to meet him at his office first thing in the morning. Derek had readily agreed, shaking his head in the affirmative, too stunned to speak. He had watched the two men walk back down the beach, stared in awe at the remaining pebble still stuck in his hand, and ran off to tell his mother what had just happened.
He wakes up before the rest of the house stirs, throwing his knit-patched pants and thread-bare shirt on and sneaks out the door. He skips along the beach, dawdling for time. He knows that someone as important as the governor won't be up before the cock has crowed, but he was too excited to stay abed any longer. He finds a wonderful piece of driftwood as he marches up the path to the governor's back door and contents himself with rubbing away the sand and dried seaweed. He doesn't have to wait long though, for a side French door opens and the governor himself walks out with a bone-china cup of tea in his hands.
He approaches Derek, and before Derek can say anything, comments, "You've got a beautiful piece of wood there. What do you intend to use it for?"
"I don't quite yet know, sir. It just seemed so pretty against the sand, it seemed a waste to leave it lying there." He answers readily, as he scrambles up from his perch.
The governor had then smiled a smile that he hadn't understood at the time, but now realizes was that of an amused and impressed man. For Derek's words had been a little too close to the governor's own thoughts at that moment to have just been providence.
He had been invited into the governor's study and set down in one of two chairs facing the governor's own massive mahogany desk. The governor had taken the other chair next to Derek, placed his tea cup on the corner of his desk, and proceeded to quiz Derek about his life. Derek told him all about the death of his father and the little cottage by the sea he shared with his mother. He had told him of his many excursions (the rock-skipping being one) to avoid the men that his mother called her 'customers'.
The governor had listened attentively, sipping his tea and injecting a few small questions and inquiries every now and then. And when he was done, there not being much to tell, the governor had very solemnly and seriously put down his tea and had asked Derek if he would like to be his errand boy. He would pay Derek a shilling a week and all Derek had to do was whatever the governor needed him to do. There would be no stealing, there would be no lies, and his appearance had to always be kept clean. How could he say no to that?
That very day he had started his new life as the governor's go-to boy. He was pretty much a glorified fetching boy that followed the governor around on his many duties around the island. When the governor came to know him, and could see that he could be trusted, he was off running errands and delivering correspondence. When the governor found out that he couldn't even read the very letters he was entrusted to deliver, the governor's own secretary was ordered to teach him how to read and write. And as tutors and learned men passed through the mansion, they were also talked into contributing to Derek's education.
He learned mathematics, astronomy, philosophy, literature, and any number of languages. At the ripe old age of 16, he assumed the duties of his mentor's secretary when the former's terms of service ended and he returned to his beloved England. He traveled from island to island with the governor, dictating and recording for posterity the actions of the great man. He became his right-hand man: preparing documents for signature, copying out declarations to be read at every posting inn, and anything else the governor might need done.
But always he was the same man that had taken the time from his important duties to take a lone boy under his wing. The skipping stone lessons turned into lessons on law and the handing out of justice. The drinking of tea and biscuits turning into the shared brandy or scotch at the end of a long work day. If it had been a really long day, they might take up a fencing bout or two. He always enjoyed the days that they were out the sea the best though. He enjoyed using his mind on the many legal questions and could argue a philosophical point with the best of them, but his happiest times were spent with the wind at his back and the wide open sea spread out before him. And the governor knew it. But he had still been caught quite unawares when the governor had called him into his office not a few months before and offered him his dream.
Derek had just returned from a trip to the nearest island, dispensing justice in the name of the governor. Everyone in the Tortuga islands knew that Derek held the entire trust of the governor, and he was generally as fair as the governor himself. And as the years wore on, and the governor's joints became stiffer with use, it had only seemed natural for Derek to take over some of the more strenuous activities. The few that had tried to take advantage of his youth and supposed inexperience had soon found themselves either bested with his skill with the sword or the word. Either one was deadly. And if word got back to the governor that someone had messed with his protégé, they'd better prey they could find a quick vessel taking them out of the governor's reach. Or all hell was going to pay.
There hadn't been any such incidents in many years, but he thought something must be bothering Uncle Richard when he walks up the back-door of the mansion to find him deeply disturbed by some missive. He jingles around the office, pouring himself a scotch, noting the deep frown and vast deflation of his friend's shoulders.
He carefully sits down in one of the rich mahogany chairs, flipping out his jacket behind him, and waits for Richard to notice him.
"Oh Derek, I didn't see you come in." Richard says with a start as he finally notices him sitting directly across from him. "How's the lesser Tortuga doing?"
"Dragging us down into the sea, as usual." Derek answers with a cool sip of his drink. Lesser Tortuga being the lesser of the two islands in all things. There was a well-known joke among the inhabitants of the big island that without the governor's iron will, the lesser would probably fall back into ruin and slide back into the sea. The governor doesn't laugh the way he usually does though, the sides of his mouth barely turning up in a smile.
"We've known each other for a long time, Richard. I'd appreciate it if you would tell me what has you frowning so hard. You've crinkled the side of your missive." Derek says in a brisk but friendly manner.
Richard immediately releases the paper from his hands and places the long piece of paper down on the desk. Derek looks over to see a very official looking sign at the bottom, but he doesn't recognize the seal. Richard gets up and retrieves his own tumbler of scotch, but sits back down in his chair with a thump.
"They're forcing me to retire, Derek." Richard tells him and then lets out a strong sigh.
Derek had known this day was going to come, but he had no idea it was going to come this soon. The governor was old, but he wasn't that old. There must be something else going on.
"Why now?" He asks, their long acquaintance making him not need to elaborate.
"I refused to give my daughter away in marriage to some Burke character. He's enacted his revenge by talking the King into rewarding my many years of loyal service with an early retirement." Richard tells him with a touch of irony.
Derek thinks about this for a second, and then asks sagely, "And just who would be the next governor?"
He knew it couldn't be him. A governorship was made by royal appointment only. He could wait until the new governor arrived and apply for his position all over again. Or he would have to leave his home in search of another position.
"Guess." Richard remarks.
"Ah, I see. The vision comes clear. He first tried to become the governor by being the current governor's son-in-law. That didn't work, so he's called for your head." Derek says with no small amount of distaste. "And what's to happen to your daughter?"
"Well, that's where you come in." Richard says with no small amount of uncomfortableness. "The bug has already been planted in the King's ear, so I can't stop the retirement. But I can stop the good-for-nothing from taking over my island. Or becoming my son-in-law."
Derek only raises his eyebrows as an indication for Richard to elaborate. "If you marry my daughter, you would be killing two birds with one stone. Addison wouldn't have to marry that scoundrel and I could recommend you to the king as the next governor. I'll even throw in 'Pirate's Bounty' as a dowry."