"Captain?" Smee shuffled over to the pirate and his enraptured audience of one. "We taking the boy back soon or is he staying aboard for the night?"
"I reckon his mother will want him home." Killian replied, allowing the man to speak before he got back to storytelling.
"We could always phone her." Henry said, his eyes shining with hope that he would be allowed to sleep on a pirate ship. "Do you have your phone with you?"
"I'm not entirely sure where I put the machine." The captain pulled a face, his displeasure at the use of modern technology evident in the expression.
"I'll ring her." The boy brightly stated, pulling out his phone and ringing his mother more deftly than Killian had yet managed.
As the boy began to plead with his mother, Killian walked back to the helm, running his finger over the scratchings on the wood. Port and Starboard. First etched into the wood to help another young boy whose eyes didn't shine so brightly with instant trust. Baelfire had been hesitant to trust adults, convinced that they would betray him… he supposed that he had done nothing to help the boy in that regard. He had allowed Pan's boys to take him.
Killian honestly believed that if Baelfire had said that he wanted to stay aboard the Jolly Roger and sail with him, then he would have once again hidden him from the Lost Boys… but it had felt like little comfort those first few months after he had let the boy go in another attempt to leave Neverland.
And now he had Baelfire's son here, so desperate to have an adventure of his own that he didn't realise most adventures involved some element of pain or tragedy. But perhaps that was a trait all boys of a certain age shared, even Killian at the age of twelve had signed up to the navy with his brother's backing, determined to do something more exciting than working in a workhouse and trying to earn enough money to live off. He had had a taste of the sea air when his father had suddenly decided they were to go sailing, and Killian had been in love with that same sea air ever since.
"She said I can."
"Pardon?" Killian looked down at the grinning face of Henry Mills, the boy jolting him back to the present. "Ah, you can stay. Well then, lad. Do you want to hear more?"
"Please!"
They moved to the stern, and Henry sat cross legged on the floor as the pirate leaned against the side of the ship.
"As I said, we had set sail in glorious weather, people cheering as we headed out."
"Why were they cheering?"
"To show the spirits that the sailors were loved, in the hope that they would protect the ship on her voyages."
"Huh… so if people set sail in the dead of night, your spirits would assume no one cared about these people."
"Yes. In our realm, criminals only went to sea if they were desperate."
"What about pirates?"
"We sailed into port only when necessary, and then it would be a small harbour. I always encouraged the men to get to know as many people as possible. Make as many friends and as few enemies so that when we left, the townsfolk would cheer for us."
"What about pirating?" Henry's face was pulled into a frown, probably imagining them raiding villages and ransacking the armouries.
"Pirating is done at sea." Killian grinned at him. "Anyway, I think it was about a week we sailed in hot weather. Theoretically, very nice. But on a ship you are working hard and the heat can be unbearable."
"Did it cool down after the first week then?"
"We encountered storms, the like of which I had never seen in my seven years sailing."
Thunder crashed loudly above them, barely a second after the lightning had flashed, but Killian didn't seen it and he paid no mind to the noise. They churning sea spat out violent waves that rocked the ship, and the midshipman was desperately trying to tie all the loose cannons in place. Further down, he could see Harold doing the same, though the sailor was unable to hear the words his peer was yelling over the storm.
He was supposed to be keeping track of their course, focussing on the navigation and leaving this to others, but a loose cannon could crush a man and all hands had to be put to work. The storm was tyrannous and strong, and the ship threatened to capsize more than once.
The rope burnt his fingers as he desperately fastened the knots, blinking in the dim light as he tried to see how competently other knots had been done. Thunder crashed again, but the deafening roar did not make him flinch, his head already pounded with the volume and he had to keep a check.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and when it pulled, Killian turned to see Lieutenant Willis behind him.
"Up on deck, Jones." He watched the man say, the words barely audible. "We're going to try outrun the storm."
"You're mad!" he exclaimed, but took the offered spyglass and headed up.
On deck, the weather was intense. The rain lashed down in a heavy flood and the winds battered the vessel as she struggled on. Once on deck, he widened his stance to help counter the movement of the ship as he hurried over to the helm, where Dominic clung to the wheel and a wall of water rose behind him.
"Thank goodness this is on our outward journey." The red-headed man shouted once Killian was beside him. "We've enough cargo so far to keep us upright."
"Turn the ship. We need to head into the waves."
"They're going the wrong way. We're to head East."
"East isn't possible, not in this weather." Killian pulled out his compass, wiping away the water that dripped down his face. "South. We'll be heading south but if we go with it we'll get out of this storm."
"The Captain won't be happy."
"Until the Captain makes an appearance I don't think he should get a say." He stuffed the compass in his pocket and looked through his spyglass. There was a light to the south that may indicate an end to the storm.
"Lieutenant Willis is over there." Dominic said, though he didn't seem to be looking, his attention was held rather by the helm.
Killian hurried as quickly as he dared over to the lieutenant, shivering as the wind assaulted him through his drenched clothing. He ignored the cloth as it stuck to his skin though, determined to get them out of the bad weather.
"Man overboard!" The cry was now possible to hear faintly over the storm, but Killian didn't pause and try to find the man in the raging waters. They needed to get away before the whole ship went over.
"Willis? Lieutenant?" Killian called, but had to move over and grip the man's shoulder before he was acknowledged. The officer's face was pale, drawn with worry and his eyes haunted.
"Jones?"
"I think I see an end to the storm, sir. But we will need to head south."
"I've had reports of at least three men overboard. Will the storm follow us?"
"With winds like this I think we can outrun it."
"Aye. Let's head south then."
With that Killian nearly ran back to the helm, slipping once but as desperate as any other man aboard the ship to evade the terrible fate that chasing them.
"Dominic? We head south. Point the ship into the waves and let's get away from this storm blast."
"Aye!"
With the wind howling as though it came from a spirit disturbed by the clamour of the storm, Killian crouched down and prayed to the Maker, and once the light was close enough to see without aid of his spyglass, the young man refused to take his eyes away from it. His stomach churned as though echoing the waves they sailed through and he hoped he had done enough to spare the rest of the men.
As the rains weakened and the thunder separated from the lightning, the men began to cheer with relief.
"Huzzah!" called Killian softly, as he convinced his legs to hold him up once more.
The intense heat was blown away with an icy blast and they sailed into seas governed by mist and snow.
"Didn't you go back for the men that went overboard?" Henry asked, his hands clenched into fists as his active imagination aided him in his experience of the story.
"No. To head back would be suicide and even if we waited until the storm had gone… Well… not many sailors know how to swim." Killian's heart was heavy. It had been the first time in his career he had ever lost anyone, and though he had been training as an officer at the time, he had felt guilt.
"Do you know how to swim?"
"Not well. I have picked up a basic understanding of it, but I couldn't survive long in the water."
"Why not?"
"Full of questions aren't you?" Killian sighed. "If Leviathan and Davy Jones want to fight over me as I sink into the waters, I want to die as quickly as possible rather than prolong my torment."
"You would want to die fast? I don't understand." Henry shifted forwards, concern etched into his face.
"That's not a fault." Killian replied, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.
