Note: Yes, there are plenty of grammar mistakes and inaccuracies. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. Next chapter may be up in the next two weeks. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Listless Jones
"First Lieutenant Arthur Kirkland, reporting for duty." The Brit stood there stiff and nervous. Even in his finest and most heavily embellished Lieutenant's garments, he still felt like it wasn't nearly enough to impress the three Admirals that sat before him.
Arthur knew they were eyeing him. Eyeing every seam, every wrinkle, every sparkling gem and button on him. What made him even more anxious was the fact that the admirals did not speak to him. They had not told him the reason why he was standing before them. The young man had plenty of guesses, but none were believable or were possible. He ran through the list silently in his mind in the continuing, tense silence.
"First Lieutenant Arthur Kirkland, we have heard many things about you," one of the heavily decorated Admirals said, as he gave Arthur an unexpected smile.
Arthur could only pray that his good deeds had passed through word of mouth, and nothing more. He dared not to speak out of turn; for fear that he might be breaking a rule. There were two things that we were afraid of in that very moment: one being that the Admiral was smiling because of his unholy deeds and two being that the Admiral to punish him would be the one smiling.
"Relax, Lieutenant. Have a seat," the smiling Admiral gestures towards the seat in front of the three. "We are here to speak about your new station."
Arthur stared wide-eyed. "A new station? The captain has become tired of me? What have I done to deserve this!?" He thought back to the moments when he'd fallen asleep on duty, due to being too easily inebriated. Arthur would be happy that he wasn't caught; however his "friends" within the ranks were not. The Brit was rarely punished for his misconducts, which led him to not having very many friends. In fact, his "friends" believed that he was blackmailing the captain. "Poppycock!" He cursed in his mind, begging to God that it wasn't the case.
The Admiral raised an eyebrow at Arthur, sensing that it would perhaps be better if he did not drag on the news. "Do you not have faith in yourself?"
The poor Lieutenant still sat stiffly, clenching his hands into firsts. He frowned, confused at the question. Arthur finally managed to reply a measly, "P-Pardon?"
"I said do you not have faith in yourself?" The Admiral repeated.
"Clearly not," the Admiral to the right of the one who had spoken finally put down the book he had been writing in.
Something inside of Arthur snapped. It was as if he had forgotten that he was sitting in front of his three superiors. He stood up, frowning and slamming his hands onto the table that separated the three figures from him. "I have faith in myself. Now, do I have faith in you three to tell me my new post? If not, I would rather return to my job, sir."
"Sit down, Kirkland!" The third Admiral who had remained quiet stood up, pointing his blade at Arthur. "Know your place!"
The first Admiral forced the third to return to his seat. "I apologize. Now, your new post is on the H.M.S. Victory, as Captain."
"I see thank you, Admiral." Then it hit Arthur. He wondered if he was dreaming. After a few seconds, he tried to think of a humble reply, "Sir, there seems to be a mistake. I'm no captain; I am simply just a first lieutenant."
"You idiot, this is a promotion. So shut up and get the hell out of this office." The third Admiral waved him away.
"Thank you! Thank you! You won't be disappointed." Arthur had finally what he wanted. "H.M.S. Victory! Wow!" He smiled ear to ear, as he walked down the corridors, hand sweeping his pale blonde hair. The Brit still wondered if he was dreaming, or perhaps if this was a cruel joke.
The moment he set his glistening emerald eyes on the corvette, Arthur just knew he wasn't dreaming.
H.M.S. Victory was a rather plain corvette. The only thing that made it unique from the other corvettes docked were two things: the rather sad excuse for a dolphin figurehead and the name crudely painted on the side. This specific corvette carried 16 guns. Despite its lack of armaments, the corvette made up with its speed.
"Speed, the one thing those Spanish bastards didn't have. I couldn't have asked for a better ship!" Arthur said to himself, smiling ear to ear.
Upon boarding, the crew greeted their new captain with open arms. They didn't quite seem to be the most sanitary bunch. In fact the crew was very much lacking.
Arthur couldn't help but ask, "Where's the rest of you?" The amount of crewmen that stood on the deck were about half of the usual total.
"This is everyone, Captain Kirkland," a member simply replied to him.
"Are you bloody serious?" All Arthur could think of how sad this sorry excuse of a crew was. He sighed, "Bloody hell, they're definitely making me work. All of you, clean this pigsty up. I want to see my face in every door knob and I better not see a shirt on the floor. If not, then your beloved rum will be mine and only mine."
The crew scurried away, immediately getting to work.
After a while, a young man had wandered onto the ship. He was perhaps in his late teens. His piercing blue eyes looked around, observing the crew.
Arthur approached him from behind, "If you are looking for your friend, he's busy cleaning my ship. You best never come back until we leave and dock again."
"So the rumours are true! The new the captain of this ship is a prick!" He smiled brightly.
"WHAT!? Mind your tongue, boy. Do you know who you are talking to?" Arthur crossed his arms tapping his food impatiently. He wanted to know who the young man was and what he wanted so he could return to mapping out trade routes.
"Captain Kirkland! Well I was told to come here and tell you that I'm your new Lieutenant!" The boy happily quipped, smiling brightly.
Arthur glared at him. "Is this a joke?" He really didn't like the boy.
"Nope! Sorry bro! By the way, my name is Alfred! Alfred F. Jones!" Alfred stretched out a hand to Arthur.
Arthur took his hand, gripping it tightly and giving it one good shake before letting go. "Lieutenant Jones, then you best help your friends clean this ship. Otherwise no one will have rum."
"Oh that's fine! I don't drink," Alfred said blissfully.
The blissful tone was too much for Arthur. He was annoyed with the young lad. "Oh? So you'd rather be the cause of the crew's unhappiness?"
"I didn't say that I wouldn't help them! Calm down Cap!" Alfred seemed to sense Arthur's patience growing thin. The blissful lad seemed amused. Amused at how easily the young captain had become agitated. "See? I'll go help them right now!"
Arthur just simply shook his head as Alfred escaped to the lower decks. He was grateful that he left and said nothing more.
The captain was usually calm. Not many things would stir him up. However there was something about Alfred that annoyed him. The teen's voice lingered in his mind as he looked through the trade routes. "Why did Jones have to be a Lieutenant?" Arthur thought to himself letting out another sigh. "If Jones was a simple midshipman, I could take away his permission to speak!" After a few moments of thinking, he believed that Jones could calm down after a while. "Perhaps it was just to test my authority," Arthur thought. He believed that no midshipman would be able to advance to lieutenant if they weren't knowledgeable and able. The young man shook his head ridding himself of absurd thoughts, deciding that he should perhaps focus on the important task in front of him.
Eventually the day came when they were finally heading out to sea. The crew had been completed, the food stocked, and their agitated captain had finally seemed to relax. The crewmen who were new to the ranks of the British Navy seemed even more so excited. Their older peers simply ignored the newer crew members, getting right to work.
Arthur walked about the ship, upon getting to a good area in the middle of the sea. He knew that it would be a few hours until they hit a trade route. If they were lucky, they could even cross a merchant ship. He smiled to himself, "Things are going to be just fine."
Just then, the sounds of laughter came from below deck. The captain made his rounds above deck quicker than usual, wanting to catch them. He snuck down the stairs to the lower deck, listening in.
"His eyebrows are like giant hairy caterpillars! Have you seen them?" A collective growl of laughter followed after.
Arthur frowned touching his brows. "Who the bloody hell could be making such accusations so early in the voyage?" He thought to himself. The captain closed his eyes, hearing that voice make another remark. "JONES!"
The dirty blonde man turned towards the entrance to see the captain standing there. "Uh oh," Alfred quipped.
The other crew members scattered. Others pretended that they were just simply there, eating in the mess hall. The others pretending that they suddenly had forgotten something extremely important, leaving immediately. Only a few seemed to sit down, wondering what was going to happen next.
"Insubordination!" Arthur yelled pointing at Alfred. "I will not tolerate you making accusations!"
Alfred blinked innocently, "Accusations? Captain, they're really just observations."
A few chuckles were heard within the room, however many didn't dare to. The other crewmembers held their breaths, wondering of what their captain could possibly do next. They didn't believe that Arthur was a harsh captain and would punish Jones. They honestly believed that their captain were those who were "all bark but no bite" sort of captain.
"So, what are you going to do about it?" Alfred challenged his captain.
"I guess you'll be the first to find out," the captain took out his pistol, gesturing towards the stairs to the upper deck.
Alfred held out his hands. He knew that the captain meant business and headed up towards the deck. The lieutenant wasn't afraid of the captain. However now at gunpoint, he was seriously re-considering if he really should be afraid.
"Remove your shirt and kneel with your back to me! Second Lieutenant, get my whip!" Arthur smirked. He could finally demonstrate how he disciplined crew members that had broken the rules. "With this, the crew should begin to fear me!" He thought.
The second lieutenant handed the whip to his captain and stood back to watch the scene unfold.
"Are you sorry for what you have done?" Arthur fingered the grip of the leather whip.
"No! I was just observing!" Alfred turns to face Arthur sending back a glare just as deadly as Arthur's.
"I will take that as a no." Arthur lifted his hand high, giving Alfred one hard and swift strike.
The teen did not flinch or make a sound. Not even after the second strike, the third strike, the fourth strike, or even the fifth and final strike. Traces of the whip having kissed his back were evident.
"Are you sorry for what you have done?" Arthur asked again in a stern tone, hoping that Alfred had had enough.
"Is that the best you can do?" Alfred muttered quietly, barely audible to anyone around.
"Pardon? If that was an apology, it would be nice if you could speak up, Mr. Jones." Arthur smiled.
The lieutenant turned, smiling poisonously, "I said I was sorry captain and that I would never observe again!"
"Good." The captain rolled up the whip handing it back to the second lieutenant. "Get back to work!"
After a few hours, H.M.S. Victory was positioned along the French trade route. Most of the ships were simple trade ships on their way to Africa or the New World. The trade ships usually carried fabric, jewellery, weapons and the occasional chest filled with gold coins. However what were considered as the true prizes for the royal navy, were the guard ships themselves. There usually were at least one or two sailing alongside the large bulky trade ships. If there were more, then a pirate or a buccaneer knew that the cargo were very important. The warships usually had anywhere from 20 to 50 cannons. But every sailor knows that choosing firepower causes mobility to suffer.
Arthur stood at the wheel looking around the seemingly endless horizon. He wondered if they were going to be lucky enough to come across a ship. It's been days since he has participated in battle. The young captain continued to survey the horizon. Upon nightfall, he had decided to get some rest and headed to his quarters. As he did he heard a roar of laughter. The young man knew that the crew was quite jolly, and thought that they all could have perhaps drunk a bit too much. "As a captain, it's my job to make sure that we're ready for battle. I should at least remind them not to drink so much to the point where they pass out!" He thought to himself heading to the lower decks and into the mess hall.
The sight that he saw had put him into a dead stop. It was not that the young captain was surprised, it was because of disbelief. Rage began to fill him down to the very tips of his fingers. Arthur knew he had to get a hold of himself. "Perhaps Jones is just telling stories of his youth?" He tried to convince himself.
"It's Captain Eyebrows!" Alfred smiled, pointing at him with a challenging smirk. "I was just telling the crew how much it stung for you to whip me! It was kind of sad. You know it hurts more to be bitten by a dog."
The inebriated crew's laughter echoed throughout the mess hall. A few even fell over clutching their stomachs.
Arthur was not happy. "How dare he insult me!" the young captain thought. He had grabbed his pistol once again, like the first time that he had overheard Alfred. "Get up!" This was the last straw and the young captain was not going to go easy on the young teen what so ever. He wanted for Alfred to know that he was his captain, and that he was just a mere lieutenant that could easily be demoted to the lowest of the low.
"Or what?" The lieutenant didn't stand; he chose to challenge the young captain's authority further. "You don't have the guts to shoot me! Do I really look like I care if I get demoted again?"
Arthur's hand shook with rage. "No Jones, I will not demote you yet. Dying is also such an easy way out. Come onto the deck. All of you. Unless you all would also like to be punished?" His voice was strangely calm, yet dark.
The crew knew that the captain wasn't joking. They watched Lieutenant Jones with pity. The crew had seen their captain angry, but not this angry.
"You know what to do," Arthur said as he waited for the second lieutenant to grab his whip once again.
Alfred removed his shirt, glaring at Arthur. "This shouldn't hurt too much," he thought to himself. "I've been through worse," He continued to tell himself. Fear crept into the listless form that sat before the captain.
Arthur watched his back as the whip was gingerly handed to him. "Thirty-five lashes for insubordination, insulting me, and being a bad influence for the crew."
Gasps were heard among the crewmembers that circled the two. That was much more than the five lashes their first lieutenant had earned earlier. They knew that it would be painful for Jones, but all they could do was stare pitifully at his bruised back.
The young captain caressed the handle of the long leather whip. "What do you have to say for yourself?" He questioned as he walked slowly around Alfred.
"That you're an ass," Alfred spat at his captain knowingly that he'd only anger the captain even more. "Do you really have to make a spectacle of me in front of the whole crew?"
Arthur simply answered, "Yes." He lifted his hand and without warning, hit Alfred's back.
The young sailor did not flinch. In fact he refused to. He did not want the captain to have the satisfaction of hearing him cry out or seem in pain. However he knew that were would be a point where he might not be able to help it as the whip hit him for the second time.
The captain continued to brutally hit the lieutenant, who was lurched over in front of him. By the twentieth lash, the teen's back was sweating. Blood had begun to drip from the ugly welts. Despite that, the teen has not uttered a single sound, nor had flinched.
Alfred's hands were as white as the shirt that he hand clenched. He kept thinking that thirty-five lashes were nothing compared to being keelhauled. The pain was great but he tried to focus on other things, keeping his eyes to the deck.
"Are you sorry for what you've done?" Arthur paused the whipping, readying to strike the boy. When Alfred didn't reply he hit him. "Were you sorry for what you've done?" he repeated himself in a more forceful tone.
"No!" Alfred spat at him shaking from the pain. "You're a brutal dictator who resolves things with violence! Why would I be sorry? And if you ask if I fear you, I don't!"
"I see. Then perhaps you can handle twenty more!" The captain did not wish to punish Jones any further. He knew that he would incapacitate the young man in front of him; however he knew at least the crew would fear him more. By the thirtieth lash, he swore he could have seen his lieutenant flinch. A smile of satisfaction appeared on his face. "Are you sorry for what you've done?"
Alfred could barely move. His back was burning and his hands were too numb to feel the shirt he'd clutched. The teen's mind was foggy as his vision. When he'd heard the captain's question, he could only manage to whisper, "No."
"What? I can't hear you Jones!" He leaned down using the whip to lift Alfred's head. As he met with the Lieutenant's empty azure eyes, his heart seemed to skip a beat. The young captain saw what seemed to be tears flowing down the other's cheek. For some strange reason, he couldn't bring himself to administer the last twenty lashes. To the captain's surprise, Jones swayed and collapsed onto him.
Alfred had lost consciousness and didn't seem to be waking anytime soon.