Ahoy!
Welcome to The Admiral. This one shot was inspired by a prompt from the Fic Lab on Facebook.
I'm really excited about this for a few reasons; one-today (July 16) marks my one year anniversary back in fanfiction, two-this story is my 10th story I've posted in that year, and three-pirates! Need I say more?
Thank you to Fran S. Sunflower for beta reading this for me, and to Lily Jill and DaniDarlingxx for prereading. Thank you also to everyone at the Fic Lab for the prompt. Head over there to see the musical teaser I posted with this one!
1765
The Captain stood upon the quarter-deck, surveying the world before him. The perfect blue of the skies—a blue not found back in England, brightened the sea until the surface of the water glittered and shone as if cut from the finest of gemstones.
It was—to the Captain—a perfect day. Ne'er could he imagine wanting more than this; his own ship, a crew that was loyal and true, and the open sea before him.
They'd just made a stop in Port Royal to sell their wares. It was always a chance, stopping for trade in the Spanish port. There was much commerce, but that drew in pirates from across the seas as well.
The Captain felt a shiver slide down his spine as he thought of the brutish group of sailors. Those cowards who had abandoned King and country and chose to follow their own god.
The very thought churned his stomach.
Pirates gave his line of work a bad name. It was becoming increasingly difficult to work an honest trade; if the pirates didn't raid him on the open seas, merchants in the ports were wary about his integrity. It was getting harder and harder to earn a living wage for himself and his men.
But the sea was in his blood, and the Captain could not fathom another life, no matter the hardships this one presented.
"Captain?"
He turned to the sound of his Mate's voice. Mr. Whitlock was a strong, reliable man. He'd been born in the Colonies, and that had been reason enough for many ships not to trust him. The colonies still sat under the good King, but lately, there had been rumors of discontent. No one wanted to take on a sailor with questionable loyalties.
But Mr. Whitlock had proven himself to be honorable and a true servant to the Crown, and the Captain was rather fond of him.
"The wind is settling," Mr. Whitlock continued. "We're still at least half a day from Saint Christopher's."
The Captain nodded. "Very well. Adjust the rigging so we might catch a breeze, but then let the men rest. They deserve it," he paused, gazing down over the ship again. His barque, the one his father ran before him; the only home he'd ever known. "Tell the men to keep their wits about them," he ordered. Just because they hadn't come across any pirates recently didn't mean they weren't out there. The pirates seemed to have the winds in their sails blown by the devil himself.
"Aye, Captain," Whitlock said, slipping back down to the main deck. The Captain watched him go, delivering the crew their orders. It wasn't often they lost the wind on a day like today, but it was known to happen.
The Captain was about to turn from his post and retreat to his quarters when a slight figure caught his eye. He frowned, eyes squinting against the brightness of the Caribbean sun. On occasion, they would pick up sailors in ports and deliver them to another. Sometimes these men stayed on with the crew, mostly they didn't. It had been the Captain's orders to pick up no new sailors this time around. Port Royal was too unpredictable and drew in too many questionable characters.
The boy, for the figure was so slight it could not be a man, moved over the deck with a familiarity the Captain himself felt. It was clear this boy had grown up on a ship, but what he was doing stowed away on this vessel had yet to be discovered.
The Captain moved before he thought better of it.
"You there!" he shouted. His men looked up at him. He knew every sailor by their Christian name on this ship, and had he known the boy's name, he would have used it.
The boy glanced up, and the Captain caught sight of a dirty face, much younger than he'd expected. "Come here!"
The boy froze, and the Captain could read terror in the child's posture. He took a breath to relax himself. There was no use frightening the child. He was likely a runaway, perhaps an urchin seeking to start a new life.
The Captain could hardly blame the poor lad for that. "Now, please, if you will," he said, his voice softer.
The boy's shoulders slumped as he stepped toward him. The Captain caught sight of his crew watching on, and he shook his head. "Back to work," he called out as the boy approached him. Mr. Whitlock repeated the Captain's order as the child drew nearer.
He was perhaps fourteen summers: skinny even under the bulk of his coat. His head was ducked down, his cap obscuring his face as he approached the Captain.
"Into my quarters," the Captain told him, gentling his voice. The lad nodded and followed when the Captain turned to head inside. He wasn't sure what to do with the boy. If he had family in Port Royal, he must be returned immediately, at least until he was old enough to go out and join a crew.
The Captain thought of his mother, of the worry she would carry for her husband and then son when they went out to sea. He prayed for the lad's mother.
When the doors to the Captain's quarters were closed, he removed his hat and turned to the boy. "What is your name?" The Captain asked. The boy shuffled his feet, his eyes affixed to them.
"Peter," he muttered, and the Captain wondered if he was even younger than fourteen. Surely only a young boy would have such a delicate voice.
"Peter," the Captain mused. "How did you come to be on my ship?"
The lad shuffled his feet. "Got nowhere else to go."
The Captain frowned. "So, you thought you'd stow away on my ship?"
He could see the lad take a deep breath. "No sir, I wanted to work for it," he paused, and his hands came together, wringing themselves with worry. "I'm trying to find my father," he continued. "He's a merchant out of the Indies."
The Captain considered this. "And your mother?"
The boy flinched. "Gone to fever."
The Captain crossed himself and offered up another silent prayer for the boy's mother. "I see." he leaned back against his desk, his fingers tapping the edge of the solid wood. "How old are you, Peter?"
The lad glanced up at him. "Fifteen, sir."
It seemed unlikely, and the Captain tried not to smile. "Peter," he said, his voice stern. The boy glanced up at him before dropping his gaze back to the floor. "Whilst you are aboard my ship, there will be complete honesty." The Captain smiled gently. "We are men of our word, and our word must have value. Dishonesty betrays that value and diminishes it."
The boy nodded his head, properly ashamed.
"Aye," he agreed.
The child was young but harmless. The Captain couldn't see the harm in letting the boy join in on the crew's work. If the boy were lucky, he'd learn a thing or two to be able to take to other ships. "Right," he decided, standing from his desk. "Go see Mr. Whitlock about an assignment."
The boy glanced up at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Really, sir?"
The Captain nodded. "Aye. I'd like to see you learn something whilst you're with us." He nodded to the door to his cabin. "Off with you. And remember, we are men of our word."
The boy's grin was wide as he dashed out of the cabin, and the Captain couldn't help but smile after him.
…
The wind never picked up, and as day gave way to warm night, the crew kept busy, minding the ship until there was nothing left to do but drink and laugh over games.
The Captain remained separated from the crew for the most part, though he did look out to check on Peter every once in a while. He was happy to find the lad had found a group of sailors that had taken him under their wings. The boy was climbing up the mast and shrouds in no time.
The Captain found himself back up on the quarter-deck near midnight. Many of his crew had turned in, though a few assigned on watch were gathered around a small lantern and swapping stories. Though he liked his crew, up here, at night were some of the Captain's favorite hours. England held many fine stars, but nothing, nothing could compare to the Caribbean Sea on a still night. The stars multiplied in the reflection of the still ocean and shone so bright, it was near blinding. The Captain loved the stars, knew so many of them by name. This was his world, and this was where he felt safest, strongest. So long as he could see the stars, he knew he'd always find his way.
The light scrape of a boot across the deck caught his ear, and the Captain turned his gaze from the heavens to his ship. It was too dark to see much at first, and he blinked a few times to clear his vision of the magnificent pinpricks of light. When his eyes finally focused, he saw what had to be Peter, strolling along the edge of the ship.
The Captain frowned.
Mindful to keep his steps light, he descended to the main deck, approaching Peter from behind. "What are you still doing up?"
The boy let out a sharp gasp, spinning in shock when the Captain spoke. For his part, the Captain tried valiantly not to smile at the boy's start.
"Sir," the child cried, his hand flying to his heart. "You gave me a fright."
The Captain chuckled. "I'm sorry, lad."
Peter shook his head, and the Captain wondered why the boy still wore his hat. "It's getting late, and I'm sure you're exhausted," the Captain said again. The boy sighed.
"Aye," he agreed. "I couldn't sleep. The men snore."
The Captain grinned. "I suppose some fresh night air never hurt anyone," he said after a moment. "Stay above deck a few more moments before you go off to bed."
The boy smiled and nodded, turning his gaze out to the water. The Captain had many questions for the child, but he didn't quite know how to begin.
He opened his mouth to speak when the boy cut him off. "So, you're a merchant vessel?"
The Captain nodded. "Yes. Local wares only, this barque is just a tad small to be making frequent trips across the ocean."
The boy nodded. "She houses, what, twenty-five crewmen?"
The Captain was impressed. "Yes, thereabouts. We have twenty in our midst at the moment."
"Aye, not including yourself."
The Captain frowned, his mind racing with the knowledge this boy was offering. "She's a large draft, larger than I've ever seen on a barque before," the boy continued.
"You know ships." It wasn't a question, and the boy looked up at the Captain sheepishly.
"Aye. My father is a sailor, but I really learned it from my mother," he paused and cleared his throat. "She ran a tavern in Port Royal, but her true love was the sea. She told me she'd have sailed her whole life if she could have only found a crew to take her on."
The Captain frowned. "It's an unfortunate superstition," he agreed quietly. "That old sailors have of women aboard their ships."
Peter looked up at him. "So, you'd let a woman aboard?"
The Captain shrugged. "If she proved as loyal and hard-working as the rest of my crew, certainly."
This seemed to surprise Peter, and the boy turned his head to look out at the water. "More Captains should be like you."
The Captain took the compliment, surprised by the warmth it carried through to his soul.
For a very small moment, the water, the wind, and the world were still and quiet, and everything felt perfect.
The sudden boom of a cannon shattered the peace, and the Captain spun around, his pistol being drawn immediately. His heart raced to a gallop in his chest as he took in the fleet of ships descending upon him. A fleet flying under the black flag.
"Sound the alarm!" He shouted to his crew. He turned to look at them, to make sure they were following orders, but they were passed out, heaped over each other. Had they really drunk so much? They knew better while they were on watch.
The Captain swore and turned to Peter. "Sound the alarm and then go below deck. Stay out of sight, and you'll be all right, do you understand?" His hands clutched the boy's thin shoulders, and the child nodded.
"Aye," he agreed. The Captain released him and watched as the boy fled below deck. When he was out of sight, the Captain turned to the approaching fleet. Six ships, all packed to the brim with pirates.
He didn't have a fighting chance.
The Captain fought with all that was in him. He and his crew loaded their cannons, but they were outgunned. And without the wind, they were soon being boarded by the scoundrels. The Captain fought, pistol in one hand, rapier in the other as he tried to slow down the invasion.
It was to no avail, and in a matter of moments, he and his crew had been cornered, trapped without an escape.
The Captain was seething. No one could claim his ship; it was his.
"You there," a large brutish man said, pointing a dagger at the Captain. "Hand over the store keys."
The Captain stayed silent. He would not engage with a pirate.
The man stepped forward, his eyes hard and cruel. "Now."
"The Captain doesn't hold the keys," Mr. Whitlock said, drawing attention to him.
"Jasper," The Captain growled. Jasper's light blue eyes met his for the briefest of moments before looking back at the pirate. "I'm the Mate. I held them."
"What do you mean, held?" the pirate growled.
"I mean, they are at the bottom of the sea now. You're welcome to go diving yourself. I trust you can swim."
The Captain was astonished by the dark humor in his Mate's eyes. He'd never seen this side of him.
The pirate swore, lifting a beefy paw to strike down Jasper, when a voice called out, stopping him. "Emmett!"
Everyone turned, and the Captain felt as if a great anvil had been set upon his chest.
Peter approached the pirate, confident and calm, and the pirate, unbelievably, dropped his massive fist. "Peter?" The Captain choked. The lad looked at him.
"You're a first-rate Captain, Edward," Peter said, tugging off his cap. Long brown tresses tumbled down, and the Captain sucked in a breath. Peter was no young boy at all; she was a woman; dirty-faced and drowning in a disguise that had fooled twenty-one men. "You run a clean, orderly ship, your men adore you, and I am pleased to hear of your progressive thoughts on women," she continued. Her posture changed, confident and capable. She'd played her part so convincingly; Edward was still struggling to truly believe she was the same person. "Please don't take my crew's raid personally. This is just business."
"Your crew," Edward choked out. She smiled.
"Admiral Isabella," she said, dipping herself into a flourished bow.
"You can't be an admiral pirate," Edward seethed.
She grinned. "Can't I?" she motioned to the ships beyond, waiting, it would seem, for her command. "I lead a fleet," she said, looking back at him. "A fleet I'd be happy to let you join, should you be interested."
Captain Edward's jaw ground tight. "I would not."
Isabella smiled. "No, I suppose not. Too noble." She sniffed. "Very well. Tie up the good Captain and his crew. Someone get those stores open."
The pirate crew snapped into action upon her command, and the Captain found himself being trussed up in his own ropes.
Isabella smiled as she approached him, tilting her head so that her long brown hair tipped over her shoulder.
"I want to thank you, Captain, for your hospitality and words of wisdom." She surveyed him; her brown eyes so much more intelligent than he'd realized this morning. "Perhaps, in another life, we might have been friends." She then smiled and reached out to him, her small hand landing on his chest. He tried not to flinch. "Maybe even lovers," she purred. The Captain did his damnedest not to react, and Isabella smiled again. "Perhaps I can hold out hope for this lifetime," she mused, her hand still burning through his chest.
"Don't count upon it," he growled. She grinned, and it churned his stomach to see she was, in fact, very beautiful.
"Oh, somehow I doubt this is the last we will see of each other, Captain," she purred, her fingers tapping against his chest once more.
"The next time we see each other, it will be because I'm taking my revenge," The Captain growled. Isabella's wicked grin spread wider.
"Now that does sound promising. But, please, do come find me when you're ready."
The Captain bit his tongue. Isabella released her hold on him just as the large brute came back up to deck. "We broke into the stores. Everything is loaded."
She nodded. "Thank you, Emmett. Round up the crew." She didn't break eye contact with the Captain as she spoke. For the life of him, he couldn't look away from her either.
He heard Emmett call for the crew to reboard their ship, but his gaze stayed fixed upon the woman that had beat him.
"Until next time, Captain." She reached up, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that brought shudders to his very soul. He didn't know if it was from revulsion or some other, darker desire, but he didn't care to dwell on it. She slipped back down to her feet, smiling at him.
"I will find you," he growled.
Isabella grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."
Okay, good news/bad news. As of right now, I do have a plot for it, but I'm booked SOLID, so it will unfortunately be a while until I can expand this story at all. But I can almost guarantee it will, because the plot that unfolded as I was writing this one? So fun!
So if you'd like to see more, give it a follow. And if you're on Facebook, be sure to find my group (Fanfics For Nerds) there because I throw out all sorts of random teasers all the time!
Until next time, mateys!