A smell of Drifting Cologne drifted over the rotting stench of alcohol and Unbathed English men. The Pub had a strange nostalgic look to it, It consisted of one large room and three off set polygonal molded dorms. Two windows evenly littered the front of pub on both sides of the entrance, Air commonly slipped under the little cracks of unfilled Sludge in the sill of the window. The breeze stopped around the first three tables to the right of the room, It didn't help with the reeking breath of Men, and the squeals of cheap Barmaids and wench. A lad no older than twenty three sat in the middle of the scene. He looked like a common fellow, nothing really excessive about him. He was on the skinny side, His hair was short and dull. Nothing about his eyes gave any emotion, The only care was his drink in his hand and the gun strapped to his right thigh. The light weight weapon sat above his Velvet breeches, The man was dressed for the pub for one reason. And one reason only. If he wasn't Dressed as well as he was he'd be shot in seconds, for a crime he was pulled into. He was not common sailor, he was not part of the Great British Naval Military.
He was a pirate.
He wasn't really a pirate, he was a Cabin boy. The lowest of the low, He got jobs worse than animal Excrete pickings. He seemed happy with the life of a Criminal, The Captain was rough and so where the seas. The beauty he sailed on, was not owned by him himself. The sea-maiden had been run By a man named Bellamy. They crewmates named him Black sam, Because he tied his thin long ebony lock slivers with a large red stain ribbon, Bellamy's hair was extremely long it went five inches down from the nape of his neck. Black sam was wealthy, He had loads of Riches. Under the rule of the Captain they had captured over fifty ships, they were on their fifty-third. And Black sam as usual had a Map, a Mug, and a Plan. Only the highest of the crew would attend the meeting in Black sam's quarters, They would come out and tell the others when the Black haired idiot of a captain was done talking. The ship had over one hundred members, close to One hundred forty The lad seemed to guess. He shifted his filthy Hand through the dead locks of hair that sat on his cranium. He sub-divided his mind again. The ship had a hull as big as a palace, It was often littered with stolen riches. Surprisingly the Black Bellamy was like the Robinhood of the sea, always such a generous man. Astonishing.
Bellamy was one of his own, As far as The lad knew. He was born in a little town In the centered of England, He was the youngest. The cabin boy had heard rumors of him being in the Royal Navy, He had a decent pay for a young kid under the control of an English Admiral. But that all came to a shattering halt when Robin hood found a Wench. He went back to the Navy to support her, She had a child without him. And he left forever. The woman got Thrown in jail and waited for him, but he never came back... He was taken by a Spanish ship. It's said he became acquaints with The first mate, Edward teach. They must have split up along the road somewhere. Funny part is that both English man captured French ships, Says something about the Perfume wankers. That's about all the Boy knew about Bellamy. He was surely a character, usually you could find a smirk or smile on his face. He was good with the wheel and Better with a weapon. Tied to his waist was always his sword, he set it about four inches from his crotch on his hip. Between the belt and his expensive stolen clothes he slid four flint lock pistols, Always loaded.
The man knew his captain had close ties with some of the most feared Pirates ever, mostly friends of Edward Teach. There was Captain Vane, or Charles as his mistresses called him. Captain Roberts, Captain Low, and Captain Black Bart Roberts. He didn't know anything about the Captains or their lives, Crew or Women. Except for Vane, Everyone knew about Vane's mistresses.
The man Faded out of his Back flash. The Appearance of the bar had lessened, Men lay tuckered on tables. Beer, whiskey, and wine dripped from glasses and mugs sloshed the liquid the floor. Bar-workers tried to Clean things up. Wenches tried to finish the holding grip of sailors, from their bodies.
The lad continued to drink until a man put a hand on his shoulder, The lad looked up shocked. Who the Bloody Devil's hell just clawed his neck-line blades. The man scratched his neck and spoke in broken English. He couldn't really tell what he was saying. It was so choppy and the words slurred, Being Drunk as a German wasn't helping either. Funny being that the man before looked and Sounded German. The German man spoke again, this time a bit clearer
"Do- you know were... the rivers rans in Ocean?"
The cabin boy frowned, He couldn't even understand what the German had said. The accent was thick and the look on the German's face was frantic. It sounded like 'Doul yeh knew weere... Ze riavers rauns in aye Ock-ian' The cabin boy set down the ale he was drinking.
"I-I don't know of any oceans" He tried to lie. Gosh he was such a terrible Pirate. The 's' he tried to sound out slurred into a lisping 'th' as he stuttered for words for the German. It must have been an Urgent situation. A wench came by and groped the thigh of his leg. Ignoring the fae he looked at the German.
light sandy brown tied back to his neck with a strip of leather. Yellow-ish muddy brown eyes gazed at him. The German shifted, His weight as he looked at the Cabin boy.
"You-yo-u have too, your a-a-a " The German didn't say anything. He simply gave a look slapped a few English coins on a waiter and ran out the door.
"pirate!" A woman screamed and pointed to another being, A sharp pointed hat set upon the figure's head. An overcoat of sorts decked the person's Demla. The shadow charged at the woman her eyes increasing in width. She shrieked again, A tankard of Rum that she was holding cracked on the ground spreading chipped cheaply welded glass pieces over the rotting wooden floor. The barmaid Fell back, A glass piece pierced her hand. She winced holding the injured piece to her bosom. Tears filled her eyes, as the figure Pulled a gun from a belt sung against it's chest. It mumbled something, And turned away from the Mistress. The creature pointed a gun around. The drunken sailors gave looks of fear. A voice sounded out the cap pulled over his face was clear enough to make out a few features, The Figure had a face with a male look to it. His chin angled and his lips were full. His nose had a bit of a hook to it but evened out in the middle. He was well built, that was expected from a pirate. Muscles accumulated as he walked. His face was hidden well. He was fair skinned, A look of dumbstruck wonder hit the face of the German the cabin boy had talked too before.
The man that had pulled the revolver out of nowhere, had begun striding toward the German pirate. The German looked as if he was begging for his life. Which he probably was concerning a gun was pointed to the fairly lit hair of the German. The thickly build man, cocked the gun again. The bullets were sliding into place as he threatened to shoot the German.
"Wo ist das Schiff, Bastard du verdammt!" A look crossed the German's face as the man threatened him. The Figure sneered and screamed again, yelling in the German's face.
"Ich werde noch einmal fragen! Was geschah mit dem Schiff?" The man said something again, he continued to grip the German's collar. He shoved him back up the wall every time the brown eyed, fair skinned German slid. In the ill tinted light all the cabin boy could see was a stream of red water arching from the German's nose, He looked slightly light headed. The other man did not. He continued to beat and batter The German.
"Es sollte im Hafen zu sein, ich weiß nichts!" The hazel eyed German lad answered the figure, His body no longer trembling. He shoved the figure away, his legs were shaking.
"Get out-Get out, NO MORE GUNS. NO NO NO." A man charged into the bar. His greying hair, and slightly burnt skin made him a bit of an eye sore. He had a hook nose and a mole to the right of his left eye. The blonde-ish man only had one dimple, it defined itself as he spoke. He clashed parted teeth when he spoke.
"Štúp- English man, The port. The port where is it' The figure spoke, His voice slightly scratchy and thick accented. With something else. Sounded German, with a bit of a Russian slur. The Bar owner leaned on his Walking stick he had brought with him. He was an older man, The greys in his locks gave it away. The German-Russian tapped his foot impatiently.
"I- It's at the front of town. Near the- No. You there show Him" The older man pointed at the young Cabin boy. The fellow Pirate gave a shocked look. He scooted up from his chair and his tankard of Sludgy alcohol now ruined sloshed over his hand. The woman with the injured hand had pulled the glass out and began to sweep it up. He pointed an index finger to his chest. The old Bar owner nodded, As the Cabin boy walked past Sailors and the royal navy men They gave him looks of both fear and disinterest. The Cabin boy walked to the pirate, The figure stuck a fair skinned hand to the English lad. He clasped his hand around the Russian accented German, and they shook. The pirate opened the door quietly. He walked out to the smell of smoke, rotten flesh and gun powder.
The pirate looked over the cabin boy and smiled, The cabin boy fearfully pointed to port. The German-Russian nodded and spun off. Holding the brown eyed German's arm and pulling him along he spun down through the forest boarding the right side of port. A woman was struggling between to Large men as she tried to crawl away. Holding her bloody blown of leg. The men above her shot. Her blood leaked over the crowed paved floor of the English port town. People screamed and children cried over the dead bodies of friends and foes. Women being pulled in corners by men. A body of a Little girl lay in the center the road, her cranium had a bullet's shell cracked below it. The wound had bled. The red liquid poured from her head and lay in a pond around the girl. Her clothing had been already been ripped by plagued rats.
The Cabin boy hurried away from the burning buildings, His run had started to achieve what he thought he could reach. He slid around to the port His crew was panicking on board. The crawled up from the chipped boards, the ladder wasn't dropped. He screwed his hands around the tip of the deck and hoisted his body over it. He was covered in spit, ocean water, gun powder, bits of flour and blood. The crew gave him looks but continued moving on their way. A certain man looked at him with a hearty laugh.
"What t'e bloody 'ell happ'in taw ya?" It was a certain man he had seen before. The crew called him Bloody red, The man was extremely masculine Slovak. His muscles rippled Under his dingy ivory blouse and his tan velvet breeches. They had kidnapped him while Fighting a crew of French wankers.
"Germa-Russians, they were Germans. They burned 'dauwn t'eh English port." The Cabin boy sighed he threw his ashy cap into the water as the ship pulled away. He slipped a now clean hand between his burnt and fried locks. "They- I don't 'knaw"
Bloody red didn't smile he looked at him. He sneered, Bloody red had something against Russians. Black Sam Had a grudge against Germans. The Cabin boy shrugged holding his hand on his head as he slid down onto a sitting position on deck. Bloody red still looked at him, he asked a deeply Slovak accented question
"Did yaw cautch teh Cauptan's nume?" The Slovakian man asked brushing his dingy short black hair back with a darkly tanned Set of fingers.
"Nah, I jast sauw a bit ave 'is fauce" The cabin boy replied as he was sitting down on the ground of the ship. Bloody red looked at him. The slovak spoke again.
"Ruessiaun and Germaun you sauid, 'ave got oune Cap'en in Mund"