Davie Jones: Guardian of Adventure
The sea crashed and sputtered on the rocks below a makeshift gallows. An officer provided a grave rhythm on a snare.
Da…da…dada dada…
"David Del Mar," read the captain in a somber tone from a very long, very official document, "you have been brought before the honorable Judge Covas on the fifteenth of April of the year seventeen-twenty-one of our Lord." The poor man was on the verge of tears.
Da…da…dada dada…
David let out a soft, resigned sigh. This is what happens when bureaucrats take over what was once a perfectly respectable port city. Everything becomes taxable, red tape sprouts from the ground, the cost of living goes through the roof, and executions become utterly boring.
Da…da…dada dada…
He reflected on his twenty-seven years.
The earliest memory David had was of looking out the window of a cramped classroom and being slapped back to reality by a yardstick. Raised by nuns in a Spanish orphanage wasn't the freest environment but there were two meals every day and loving motherly figures to nurture growth and prepare you for the working world.
David played well with his friends and played even better with new arrivals. He was by no means the oldest of the orphans but he always seemed to have a natural sense of leadership about him and an extraordinarily vibrant imagination, a quality he tried to share with his peers. Every day except Sunday the children were on crusades to the Jerusalem or street performers in France or swashbuckling privateers on the Spanish main, the endless possibilities of what he could do with his life were tirelessly pondered and wondered at by David.
He said goodbye to his family and left for a life on his own, a life that he was just completely positive he was prepared for. He was twelve at the time.
Da…da…dada dada…
The first few months as a street urchin were minor setbacks, a headwind only a little stronger than David had initially anticipated. Mother Superior had always taught her children to stay upbeat and confident no matter what. So great was his faith in his dear Mother's tutelage that he actually believed it. And not four months after he left the orphanage David gained employment from a salt-bitten old fisherman.
The old man lived with his old wife in a worn old sloop the couple had sunk their savings in early in their marriage. They'd witnessed David try to pickpocket a navy captain one delightfully sunny Tuesday afternoon. The captain seized the boy by his scraggly head, shouting curses as he did so, promising to personally see a cat o' nine tails lick his back when the old man scurried up, spewing apologies faster than you could bat an eye at, claiming he had lost track of his son-mischievous little devil, him-and after four or so minutes of constant apology and a substantial bribe, the captain let David go mumbling under his breath something foul about the working class.
Da…da…dada dada…
The old man took the boy straight home and unleashed a storm of poorly filleted tuna and olives on him. He introduced himself as Rivera and his wife as Señora Rivera and the three lived happily for many years.
The married couple had had two children, one in the powerful Spanish Navy and the other married in one of the many French farming villages. Rivera turned out to be an incredible influence on young David's intellectual growth, teaching him all sorts of things from tying knots and rigging to furthering his Christian education and shaving in his teen years.
David learned quickly that he did not care very much for shaving at all.
Sra. Rivera filled the void his family of nuns left. She believed right to her core that even the royal kitchen staff didn't know half of what she knew about cooking, a belief that David and Rivera did their very best to keep true to.
Da…da…dada dada…
He met a girl in the fish market while he was chasing around some children one day pretending he was a great monster. Her name was Eleadora. She had the softest raven hair you'd ever see and a brilliant smile that sold fish at twice their actual value. The two fell quickly in love and planned to get married after a year or so of courting.
Her father was a fine man, really he was, but he was very old fashioned and wouldn't give his daughter's hand to anyone without a generous dowry. So David made him swear he wouldn't marry her to anyone else until he came back from the Navy with enough money to satisfy him. Her father happily agreed.
"I see how happy you make my sweet Eleadora. And she'll wait for you too, I'm sure," he said, laughing. He playfully punched David's shoulder.
And so with much protest and eventual acceptance, Eleadora said goodbye to David.
Da…da…dada dada…
The drum continued to beat with perfect timing. The captain had swallowed his emotions and read on.
A young lieutenant arrogantly strode up to David, took a firm hold of the gold hoop on his ear, and pulled sharply downward. David let out an indignant howl of pain as blood dribbled on his long blue and crimson coat.
"There we go," the lieutenant said. "This ought to cover your burial." He looked David square in the eye and smirked.
The captain stopped reading and ran at his lieutenant in a fit of rage and struck him with the back of his hand. A backhand slap hurts the dealer as much as his target. The only reason the captain struck him so was for the message of shame he meant to convey to his inferior. This was not lost on David as he watched from his platform, gingerly prodding his ear.
"Have you been made aware, lieutenant, as to why this man," he motioned towards the convicted, "is being hanged today?" The lieutenant was speechless as he stared up from the ground at his red-faced superior. For fifteen seconds a tense and exciting silence filled the crowd as they watched this military exchange. The captain shook his head and stood up straight. He turned to the crowd and motioned again to David.
"This man you see before you is to be executed today. I have personally followed his career directly under him as first mate for eleven years." His legs grew shaky under him. He sat down on a stone step next to his lieutenant. "Pardon me. After joining our mighty Navy," here a few men from the crowd whooped, "his incredible brains and inventiveness gained him the title of Captain in under a year."
"We were charged with chaperoning a cargo ship from the African colonies. When he learned the cargo we were guarding was negro slave women and children, he immediately commanded we board the cargo ship and kill no one." The captain grinned with pride. "My captain bound the merchants in ropes and made way for the nearest German colony in the dead of night and set the slaves free, all the while comforting the women and using our translator let the children think it was some adventure game." He chuckled a bit. "I remember their giggles of delight before we guided them to safety. Then we set sail for the Caribbean where I suppose he thought he could rustle up a pirate crew?" He looked to David in question.
"I suppose."
The captain looked down and smirked. "Word got out before he could and now we're here."
The crowd began clapping. Not the slow, uncertain clapping you might see at two scorned friends reconciling, it was the quick and uproarious applause you'd welcome a hero back home to. Tears welled up in David's eyes. He looked away from the cheering crowd and towards the sea at the cliff below.
"Lieutenant, I want you in your quarters when I get back. I will consider you absent without leave if you're not and you will be punished accordingly. You will be stripped of your rank and given the worst detail I can think of, is that clear." It wasn't a question. The lieutenant scampered off.
The captain stood up and snatched the paper up from where he threw it. The drums started back up.
Da…da…dada dada…
"Are you ready sir?" he said to David.
"Is that a joke?" came the reply.
He looked at his paper. "Captain David Del Mar, you are charged with piracy on the open seas, kidnapping, embezzlement, robbery, desertion, and attempted jailbreak. You are to be hanged by the neck until dead." He looked towards the gallows. "Any last words, sir?"
David rubbed the noose around his neck with bound hands. "I wrote three letters and left them in my cell. See to it they're mailed, would you?"
"Yes, sir." The captain smiled at him with wet, half-lidded eyes and a quivering lip. He placed his hand on the release lever. "Farewell, Captain, and may God have mercy on my soul."
The drummer began a long, continuous drum roll.
David continued reflecting on his life.
The daring raid on the merchant ship. The Rivera's and their son he'd met once. How rugged and tough he looked! The nuns at the orphanage and the children he tried so hard to make them forget about their parents. All the knot tying and the make believing and bad food but most of all Eleadora. Always Eleadora above all else.
And then he thought how funny it is that so many things can go through your mind in your last five seconds.
The captain pulled the lever.
The drum roll stopped.