Author's Note: There's going to be no more child John, I'm sorry : -( but not too much happens in his childhood and I am trying to get to the juicy parts. Long story short: Mom cheats, Thomas gets a bit fatter, John grows older and becomes the captain, and he still doesn't know how to use a pistol, but he's damn good at sword-fighting.
John slowly opens his eyes. He had fallen asleep in his bed as usual, but he had to remain in Port, the whole crew waiting on his mother's return. John had gotten to be the captain at the age of 16. The youngest captain known to sail the ocean. Thomas had been training him, as well as everyone on board. They trusted he would be a good captain. Yet they gave captaincy to someone so young, they don't know what to expect from him.
He slowly sits up and shuts his eyes tight. He had a slight head ache. He didn't know what from, since he hadn't started drinking, his mother not allowing him to. He knows no matter how old he gets, she'll just nag at him. He looks out the window, his first thoughts of the day not bringing him into a relatively good mood. He gets up and puts a shirt on, along with his coat and boots, before heading out onto deck, looking at the emptiness. He knows that each crew member could be in one of three places; the dining hall, out in port, or below deck, asleep. He sighs, knowing he was the only one on the ship that is awake.
He walks down the steps from the helm to the main deck, turning and heading to the dining hall, which was below the helm. He opens the door with a lazy grunt and walks to the table, seeing the food sprawled. He twitches his nose slightly at this. He looks around the room as he grabs an apple. It was a large room, having a small corner taken out of it to be used as the kitchen. The dining table was long and rectangular, with at least eight or nine chairs on either long side. The sorter sides had one to three seats, which was unordinary but he just shrugs it off. Unordinary table for an unordinary ship, aye? He thinks as he takes a bite of the apple, walking around the room. At least it's not littered with drunken sailors' unconscious bodies… he thinks as he leaves the room.
He sighs as he looks out at the Port. It seemed rather hectic for how early it is. He chuckles thinking of how many stupid pirates must have horrible hangovers from the previous night. That's how every day at Tortuga went. Wake up and whine about your migrane, drink it off and make trades and gamble, and by the time night will have fallen, you will have been the drunkest you've ever been. Some of these sailors might just be lucky enough to sleep with the poor sluts that littered the place. I almost feel bad for them. But it's really their choice to live that lifestyle.. If they really wanted, they could get an actual job instead of offerin' their goods up for gold. John thinks. He sighs. What a sad place.
John walks through Tortuga, searching for a couple of his crew mates. He sees a few and tells them to let the others know that he was going to leave at noon that day. No exceptions. He soon goes back to the ship after buying necessary good from the vendors that were scattered around. He sits on the steps on deck, sharpening his knife as he waits for his mother to appear. He wasn't in a good mood and he was about to make sure that his mother was fully aware of that.
Soon enough, Cynthia walks up the ramp, holding her head in one hand, and a small satchel of gold in the other. She had forgotten her plans on hiding it from her son, in which she knew he wouldn't be happy about. She sighs and tries to fix her hair with one hand. He looks up from his knife and stands, walking over to her as he sheathes it.
"Mornin' mum." Was all he said to her, for her to know she screwed up. She looks at him and smiles slightly, not showing any anxiousness of any kind.
"Good mornin' deary. Did ya sleep well?" She smiles a bit more as she takes her hand away from her hair and start to walk away from him toward the dining hall. He narrows his eyes and grabs her hand, yanking the satchel out of it.
"Did you sleep at all?" He growls slightly. She frowns slightly and looks at him with a frown.
"Don't talk ta yer mother that way." She says to him in a more than upset tone of voice. She grabs at the satchel and huffs a breath of annoyance once John pulls it away from her grasp.
"I can hardly call you that," he growls at her "You aren't much different at all from the whores that ye see in port, mum.. Unless ye change the way ye act, then as captain of this ship – " He gets interrupted as his mother's hand came crashing upon his cheek. John stumbles onto his knees, dropping the satchel.
His mother had a ruthless look. She snatches the satchel off the wooden deck floor, fuming. She looks at him and raises a finger to him angrily. "You 'ave absolutely no right to talk to yer mother like ye just did and that will not be acceptable. I don't give a damn who the captain o' this ship is, but I will not have it. Understood?" she says to him, awaiting an answer.
John didn't know what came over him at the moment, but he felt threatened, and the way he reacts in a threatened state isn't exactly what you would want to experience. He unsheathed his knife and without thinking, he slashed at his mothers face, leaving two cuts down both of her cheekbones. They had started to bleed and John hadn't realized what he did, widening his eyes. She runs off the ship faster than a whore could sit in a drunken sailor's lap, I will tell you that.
John just stands and walks up the steps slowly in thought of what had just happened. He approaches the helm and walks right past it, pushing open the door to the captain's cabin lazily, and walking over to the desk, sitting and putting his hands in his hair. He sets the knife in front of him, and looks at it for a moment. After long contemplation, he just cleans it. He didn't show any emotion that whole morning, and he didn't see his mom again until the ship left Tortuga. Thomas, being John's first mate, had been one of the last to reboard the Siren and had seen his mother's cuts.
He approaches John with a small frown. "Wos your mum kidnapped or somethin' fer a while? She's got these – " John interrupts.
" – Cuts, yes. I know. She wosn't kidnapped. I did that." He says, having been sitting at his desk calculating how far they were from their next stop and how long it would take to get there, trying to guess what the weather would be like. He hadn't looked up at Thomas when he replied to him. He just stated it so bluntly, Thomas thought he didn't even care.
"You, did that? Why?" He frowns at him, noticing how he hadn't looked up from his work. It was unlike him. John shrugs slightly in response to Thomas' question.
"I'm… Not sure actually. It wos a reflex. She slapped me fer bein' disrespectful or somethin'. I don't quite rememba." He says as he writes a couple things down. "Anyways, raise the anchor and prepare ta set sail." He orders in the calmest fashion Thomas has seen before. Thomas nods and turns to leave the room.
"Aye, captain."
"Oh and Thomas?" Thomas pauses at the door, not looking at John.
"Aye?"
"Get someone ta clean the dining hall. There's food everywhere and it bugs me."
Another note: Honestly this chapter seemed longer but the words of the story (minus this) are roughly the same to chapter 2. Anyways, thanks for reading this chapter and please review! I know this story is gonna take forever to finish and I will start other stories while still working on this one. I also know it won't get as many reviews, follows, views, et cetera et cetera. Anyways, thanks! :3
