Captain Sherlock Holmes is master of the pirate ship Baker. Follow his adventures on the high seas!
This first chapter of the story is written to celebrate International Talk Like a Pirate Day, September 19th. Arrr!
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Life of a Pirate
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Captain Sherlock Holmes planted his feet on the deck, leaned back and lifted his face to the salty wind. The air was tainted with the smoke of the burning ship they were leaving behind. He watched as the remnants of her crew scrambled franticly to put the fires out. If they were lucky, they would succeed, but their ship was heavily damaged and there was no threat of pursuit.
Once again, he had faced death and won. Adrenaline still coursing freely in his veins, he thought of the rich bounty his crew had found in the hold of the other ship. There was a queen's ransom in gold and supplies! It was a grand day to be a pirate. Not so much for those poor wretches in service of the crown.
"Yer wanted me Capt'n?" A short squat man inquired respectfully.
"Arrr, Pulsen! Gather some men and bring the prisoners. I want to see if they are worth the vittles I'll be givin 'em, or if I should toss 'em over the side before I waste me resources.
"Aye Capt'n." Pulsen turned smartly and headed off to fetch the former passengers of the vanquished ship.
Sherlock leaned against the rail and watched the celebration of his crew. The lads were in high spirits and the rum was flowing freely. He counted no less than five brawls. He would need to provide some entertainment for them soon or things would get out of hand. He watched impassively as a small group of frightened people were shoved forward to stand in front of him.
"On your knees, ye scurvy lot! Ye be in the presence of yer master. Show ye some respect!" Pulsen roared as several pirates forced the small group to kneel.
"This is preposterous! I am a representative of her Majesty's government. I demand to be set free!" a familiar voice exclaimed.
Sherlock's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"Ah, my dear Mycroft! I thought I smelt your sanctimonious presence aboard!" he commented with a slow lazy tone.
"Sherlock?" My, God! It is you!" Mycroft Holmes exclaimed. "Thank the maker! Tell this lot who I am! I want to talk to the captain immediately!"
"Ye be speakin' to the Capt'n ya bilge rat!" One of the pirate guards roared as he knocked Mycroft to the deck as he attempted to stand.
"You are the Captain?" Mycroft ask incredulously.
"Aye," Sherlock assented, "that I am."
"I demand you stop this ridiculous behavior. Release us now! As the newly appointed governor of the islands, I insist you set us free. Give up peacefully, and I will see that you are treated fairly once we reach port!"
Sherlock stared at his brother. He hadn't seen Mycroft in years. It seemed time had not improved his disposition.
"Capt'n, yer not going to take this hornswoggle seriously are ye?" Pulsen muttered into his ear.
Sherlock snorted. "Not likely, me lad. Not likely. There be no love between us to sway me thoughts."
"I demand . . . " Mycroft began.
"Ye demand nothing," Sherlock roared. "Yer nothing to me. I have no need of clemency. I be free. I do as I will. Ye have nothing to offer that interests me."
He turned to his men. "Strip him, throw him in a dinghy and set him adrift. Ye need not be too gentle about it."
"No!" Mycroft shouted. "Sherlock, you can't do this! This is preposterous! We are brothers!"
Sherlock watched as his men roughly dragged the shouting Mycroft away.
"Ye be a harsh man, Capt'n," Pulsen said softly.
"As harsh as I must be, Pulsen." Sherlock replied. He turned to the remaining prisoners.
"Now be quick lads, tell me why I should spare your lives. Can ye be ransomed? Do ye have special skills? Speak smartly now."
One by one, the men began to babble about their skills and assets. Sherlock listened absently, almost as if he were uninterested.
"Enough!" He said finally. He pointed to six of the passengers. "Ye be liars!" He poked the first man in line with a long finger as he recited, "Lawyer, and an honest one at that! Ye be not rich enough to be worth me trouble!"
He poked the man next to him. "Farmer, I have no need for a landlubber."
"I am a squire! I own rich lands," The man protested.
Sherlock fingered the ragged edge of the man's sleeve. "Ye possess no riches. Yer land is obviously heavily mortgaged."
The next man faired no better, nor the next. Sherlock shook his head sadly. "Let them walk the plank. At least they can provide some entertainment fer me crew in their last moments of this life." The men were hauled away kicking and screaming.
There were two remaining prisoners, a woman and a man. Neither had joined in the babble of asserting claims of importance. That intrigued him. He stood in front of the slight form of the woman and observed her reactions carefully.
"Speak up lass, do ye have any redeeming qualities?" She remained silent.
Sherlock was not sure what to make of her. Surely she knew her fate rested in his hands, yet she stared forward, refusing to make a sound. He walked around her. "Ye be small," he commented. "Yer body has no enticements that I can perceive. Yer lips are thin, yer body frail, yer bosom flat as the deck. I have no need for such as ye."
"Beggin yer pardon Capt'n," Pulsen interrupted. "The crew be not so picky. Some of the lads were hopin' ye would see fit to allow the young lady to spend some quality time with them."
"She is skilled with bandages and nursing the ill," the last prisoner spoke. It was the first thing he had said. Sherlock's attention shifted to the man.
"Ah, Ye be the doctor of the ship. Are ye any good?"
The man looked Sherlock in the eye, squared his shoulders and nodded. "Very good."
"Military man," Sherlock observed. "Ye be familiar with discipline then. That be good. I suppose ye have cared for sundry wounded?"
The man nodded. "Yes, many, far too many."
"What be yer name lad?"
"John Watson."
"Well, John Watson, we have wounded who need attendin'. See that you do yer job well and ye will be rewarded with yer life."
Sherlock turned to a crewman. "Take this man below. Set a guard on him and watch him do his work carefully."
"What about Molly?" John asked.
"She be no concern of yers…unless," Sherlock paused. "Be she yer wench?"
"I am no man's wench!" the woman spat.
Sherlock waved his hand and two sailors grabbed John Watson's arms and began to frog march him away. "Molly! I am so sorry!" John called in an anguished voice as he was led away.
Sherlock returned his gaze to the small woman before him.
"Well, well, the puss has claws," he smirked. "What be yer name wench?"
"I, I am not a wench! I am a lady, and my name is Molly, Molly Hooper."
"We have no need for fine ladies aboard this ship, Molly Hooper," Sherlock said mockingly. Beside him, Pulsen leered evilly and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
"Pulsen, take Miss Hooper to me cabin and take care she is not molested on the way there."
Pulsen stared mouth agape, In all his years of service aboard the Baker, the first mate had never know Captain Holmes to show interest in any wench on board or ashore. In fact there were numerous rumors as what the Captain did to find his pleasures.
"Sir?" he asked.
"Yer heard me, ye scurvy dog! Do ye question the command of yer Capt'n?"
"Nay, Capt'n Holmes!" Pulsen grabbed Molly Hooper by the arm and started hauling her away.
"Gently, Pulsen. There's a good lad. I don't want her damaged."
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A/N If you would like to see illustrations for this chapter, check out my tumber for September 19, Talk Like a Pirate Day entry. My account is under Patemalah21. Pat's Blog. Thanks