Sally hunkered down against the rain, drawing the shawl she was using as a blanket a little more snug around her and Percy. Blessedly the rocking of the ship had finally allowed the boy to sleep. At least one of them was able to sleep. It was more than could be said for her. Sally had never felt comfortable on the water.

Ironic, all things considered.

Her eyes glanced down once more to her sleeping son, his dark black hair, so much like his father's, was matted with dirt and sweat. The bowels of the merchant vessel were far from a comfortable place to be. It was cramped, hot, and uncomfortable. Not surprising, merchant vessels weren't meant to accommodate passengers. At least not the likes of her and her son.

It was dangerous enough, what she was doing, but it had needed to be done. Risking life and limb crossing the ocean to the colonies was worth the risk to her compared to life in England. They said that one could make a life for themselves in the New World. That the titles and labels of the Old World no longer applied.

That was what she was attempting to escape, among other horrors. What opportunities did an unmarried mother, a common street whore, have in England. She thanked whatever gods were listening that her son had not yet grown to an age where he understood her profession. She did not know if she could bear the shame.

And she had plenty of shame.

Shame that she had brought a child into her world. Brought a child in the hell that was her existence. Her darling boy did not deserve it. Did not deserve to have a mother who could barely afford to feed him. Who had to beg and grovel for coin on the street, in the hopes that he might be able to find a moldy slice of bread for his dinner.

But she would start anew. She and her darling son. She would make it right. She owed him that much.

Damn that man. Damn him to the fiery pits of hell or-or wherever he came from.

A god.

A damned god.

She was a fool. A fool to have gotten into bed with the likes of him. She hadn't known what had gotten into her. She had been young, and oh so naive. She had fallen for his honeyed words, and saccharine promises like a young lamb ripe for the slaughter.

The ship lurched to one side, as sea spray and rain poured out from a hole in the bulkhead.

She was drenched to the bone, and she tried to tug the shawl more securely around herself. She didn't understand how Percy could sleep through this maelstrom, perhaps it was his damnable heritage.

The same heritage that had driven them from England in the first place.

They were escaping, not just to get off of the streets of London, but to escape the other horrors that the rest of the world couldn't possibly believe existed.

She still bore the scars from that thrice damned hound that had tried to take her child from her.

She didn't know if the New World didn't have these horrors, but she could hope.

For months, months, she had scraped together every copper she could find. She had known a merchant captain, a regular of hers, that had promised her passage in exchange for favour and coin.

Her and Percy's escape, at last.

Suddenly the ship changed direction. It was a violent, rapid motion that threw Sally and Percy into the bulkhead. Mercifully, Percy was the heaviest sleeper that Sally had ever known, and was not disturbed in the least. Sally, however, was concerned. That had not felt like the natural course correction for the ship.

Then the lights of the ship began to go out one at a time. Sally felt her heart hammer, as the distant echo of a bell chimed high overhead, well above the noise of the storm and the creaking of the ship. Something was happening. Something bad. Nobody would come and check on her, there were only a number aboard the vessel that actually knew she and Percy were on board.

She unconsciously tugged Percy closer to her breast, and the young boy stirred in her arms, and she cursed the impropriety of it all.

"Mama," yawned Percy, sleepily rubbing at his beautiful green eyes. "Wha-what's going on?"

"Hush, darling," she chided softly, "We need to be quiet right now, alright love?"

Percy nodded his head, and leaned further into her embrace. She wrapped a protective hand through his raven locks and closed her eyes. For the first time in years, she loosed a protective, desperate prayer. Not to God. But to the damnable bastard that had abandoned her and her son. She prayed to him for his protection. For safety and security. But she received no reply.

Typical.

She jumped, as a terrifyingly loud thunder-like crack, reverberated around the ship. But it had not been thunder. Growing up and living in London, Sally knew the sound of thunder, and that had not been the sound of the heavens.

It had been the drums of war.

A cannon.

She also noticed that the ship was slowing. It was a subtle motion, but after weeks of confinement, she knew the motion fo the ship well enough to know.

There was another crack of thunder. Followed by another, and another. The ship shook violently, and she screamed as the nearby bulkhead exploded in a burst of splinters and wood. Their vessel answered back with its own volley of cannonade, and the ship rocked back from the velocity of the cannon-fire.

Who had found them? Was it the French? Spanish? No…no they were currently in times of peace were they not? Or had something happened whilst they were at sea…or was it something worse?

"Pirates." She breathed out,

Her heart hammered against her ribcage, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Percy, sweet Percy was crying into her breast. Blessed boy was trying to keep his voice down, but his whole body was shaking in fear. She tried to soothe his worries, but Percy seemed to know by instinct alone when she was scared.

She shook, her terrified tremors matching the tremors of the ship as it fired volley after volley. Then the ship shook even more violently and she and Percy were thrown to the floor. Splinters and rain and seawater sprayed down over her. She lost her grip on Percy and he screamed in pain as he was bodily slammed against a crate on the other side of their cramped compartment.

"Percy!" She cried out, and tried to scramble towards him, but the ship shook again and one of the crates was thrown loose of its moorings. It slid across the deckhead and Sally couldn't get out of the way in time. The crate slammed into her, and she felt something crack in her sternum as she was pinned against the bulkhead by the crate.

"Momma!" Percy cried out, and she heard his tiny feet patter across the floor. She tried to push off the crate, but it was no good. Every movement, every breath, were sheer agony. She was becoming soaked as rain and seawater was sprayed threw a hole in the bulkhead. She couldn't see her child, but she could see his tiny fingers scraping and clawing against the sides of the crate. To her surprise, she actually felt the crate shift somewhat, but it refused to move.

There were screams and yelling coming from the upper decks, and she could hear the cracks of muskets and smoothbores going off above her.

The fighting had spread to the ship.

How could it have all gone so wrong. Was she cursed? All she had wanted was to escape. To take her child and get them away. How could this have happened to them. Did he not care? Did he not give a single damn about his son? About her? Was this how she died? Was this how her son died? No. This couldn't be the end. He was so young. He was a damned child.

"Poseidon!" She cried, "For the love of all, take me if you must! But don't take my son! Don't take my darling boy!"

She couldn't lose him. She couldn't bear it. She could go to heaven. She'd lived her life, miserable and painful as it was. But her darling boy was just a child. He had a life ahead of him. He did not deserve this cruelty. To face this torment. She saw something move out of the corner of her eye, and she turned her head to look out the hole in the bulkhead.

She could see the monsters who had done this. A crass, ramshackle vessel, with bright, blood-red colors whipping in the maelstrom. Her mind went numb, the ship was so close, she should almost make out the poor souls who were trapped inside, Could see down the barrels of the long guns as they were loaded.

She closed her eyes, sending one last prayer to the heavens.

The cannons thundered.

And her world went black.

BREAK

Percy couldn't understand what was happening. One minute he had been asleep, and the next it felt like the entire world was turning upside. His fingers dug into the wood of the crate pinning his mother. It was budging a little bit, but he couldn't quite get a good enough grip on it to pull his mother free.

His mother was screaming, but over the loud bangs and screams from up top he couldn't understand what she was saying. He stepped back in order to get a better grip on the crate again, when the entire ship shook and he was thrown off his feet. When he managed to get back to his feet, he couldn't quite process what it was he was looking at.

The crate was gone, splintered into a million pieces. A strange red liquid had been splashed over all of the wood in the cramped room. Looking down at his hands, he could see that he had been drenched in the strange red liquid as well.

"Momma," He called out. He couldn't see her, and he thought that maybe she had hidden herself behind another crate or something,

"Momma! Where are you!" He scrambled forward, his feet finding a sure-footing along the unsteady deck. His feet sloshed through the red liquid before stepping on something that was strangely soft. He looked down at his feet, not quite sure what it was he was looking at.

It looked sort of like a hand. But it was mangled and grotesque. It was strange though, because it looked like his mother's hand. He could tell because of the ring on her hand, the one with the trident stamped into the metal. But that didn't make sense. Momma had two hands. He stepped over the hand and peeked behind the ruined crate.

He froze.

"Momma," he said softly, taking a hesitant step forward. Momma was lying on the ground of the deck. She was stained red, and he couldn't see her left arm.

Or her head.

Was she sleeping?

"Momma?" He asked again, taking another step forward and pressed a hand into her shawl.

"Momma wake up," he said again, "Momma wake up, I'm scared! What's happening?"

The ship deck rolled to the side again, and something rolled into his leg. He looked down, confusion filling him.

It was momma's head.

But that didn't make sense. Mamma was right there. He could see here, so how was her head there? A strange, cold, sensation swooped through his stomach.

"Momma!" He said again, rushing back over to his mother's side and patting her on the side,

"Momma! Get up! Get up Momma!"

She didn't respond.

"Oi! I 'ear somethin' comin' from over 'ere!"

A new voice called out, and a head emerged from around a pile of crates.

He was an ugly man. A grotesque-looking face. Gnarled and wrinkled. His nose was twisted horrifically to one side, and his matted black hair was plastered to his face with rain.

"Well, well, well," said the man, pushing his way over the crates, "what 'ave we 'ere? Lost little lamb? What're you doin' 'ere youngin'?" His eyes swept across Percy, and then over to Momma. His eyes went wide, and then he tilted his head back and laughed.

"Oi! Amm'erst! C'mere, we got a pair 'a stowaways!"

Another, equally grotesque looking man pushed his way over the crates and looked over at Percy and his momma. He joined his friend in laughing cruelly,

"Awe what's wrong little lamb?" Crooned the man, "Sad about dear ol' ma? Ah no worries, you're better off without 'er."

What did that mean? He wasn't without Momma, she was right there. He could see her.

"Awe look at 'im," laughed the second man, " 'e doesn't get it. Does 'e?" He kneeled to the ground, and it was then that Percy noticed the large club in his hand. The same red liquid that had drenched Percy and his Momma was staining the wood on the club.

"Look 'ere lad, your mum's dead," he emphasized the point by drawing a line across his neck. "Must 'a killed her during the attack, sorry about tha' but thas the way it goes, innit?"

What was he talking about? Percy didn't get it. Momma wasn't dead. She couldn't be. It wasn't possible. He turned and looked back at his mother, then over at the dismembered head of his mother across the room. Horror spread through him, and the men laughed again.

"There it is," they laughed, "Now 'e gets it."

The horror was overcome by something else in that moment.

Overwhelming rage.

Deep. Penetrating. All encompassing rage.

A crack of thunder echoed outside, and a large wave smashed into the ship, and the men stumbled and were forced to grip onto the edge of the crates in order to right themselves.

The rain came harder then. Pooling down in sheets so thick that it was impossible to see more than a hand-lengths away. The ship shook as more and more waves began to smash into the sides of the ship.

Percy let out a scream. Utmost agony, rage, and sadness pooling out of him in a way that he was then unaware that he possessed. The ship groaned and creaked as it was buffeted by the waves. Something within the ship snapped, as wood and support beams succumbed to the mounting pressure of the waves.

A new wave, towering higher than the masts of the ship descended down onto the upper decks of the ship. The masts cracks and toppled as men, pirate and merchantman alike, were swept into the darkened depths of the ocean. Those unlucky enough to remain topside were crushed under the sudden collapsing of the masts. The rudders snapped, and the frames along the edges of the bulkhead shattered. The winds reached a peak greater than any hurricane in recent memory. Shards of splintered wood, limbs, dead and dying men, were whipped into the air and thrown around the deck of the ship. All matter of creature and object were thrown into the dying vessel. Tearing and shredding the wounded creature even more than previously imagined.

The dying vessel finally succumbed to the onslaught, as it split stem to stern. Screaming men fought one another. Clawing, scraping, battering, and killing as they tried to get to the few escape vessels still tethered to the ship. But they weren't spared the mercy of the storm. The boats were ripped from their moorings, crushing the unfortunate souls that tried so desperately to escape the murdering.

Slowly, pitifully, the vessel sank into the ocean. Taking the lost souls of the unfortunate incident down to their watery depths with them.

All with the exception of a small boy. A boy who had miraculously found his way to a floating piece of driftwood. Exhausted and unconscious as he floated through the waves. As the last of the ship sank beneath the waves. The hurricane finally subsided, leaving a cool summer evening.

And the world went still.

BREAK

"Damnable hells," muttered Second Lieutenant Garrison, as he peered over the railings.

"Mind your language, Mister Garrison," chided Captain Andrews, the Master and Commander of His Majesty's Endeavor. Though he could agree with his Second Lieutenant's assessment. The early watch had spotted the drift some hour ago, and as per routine, he had been roused from his quarters.

"What are you thinking, Captain," muttered First Lieutenant Matthison,

"Pirates, if I were to guess," muttered back Andrews, "The vile creatures have been preying on these parts for the last several months."

"Makes sense," said Matthison, "It's the main thoroughfare for merchant traffic to and from the colonies." He paused for a moment. "Think there's a chance for survivors,"

"Not likely," breathed Andrews, "It isn't normal procedure for pirates to kill their captives, but it is not unheard of either, and judging by the amount of drift…"

He didn't need to finish the sentence, they all knew what the reality was. This amount of drift only meant one thing.

The ship was lost.

"Man overboard!" Cried a sailor on lookout, "Port side!"

All hands scrambled over to the port side railing and peered out into the depths. After a few moments, Matthison, pointed,

"There!" He cried out. Following the finger, Andrews could make out a small shape floating in the waves.

"Merciful heavens," someone muttered, "Is that a child?"

"Mister Hawthorne!" Barked Andrews, "Prepare the longboat!"

"Aye, Captain!" Came the response. An hour later, the small frame of a tiny child was hoisted onto the deck of the ship.

"Out of my way, out of my way!" Roared Mister Dockridge, the company physician, as he barreled his way through the throngs of men and to the small child.

The poor thing was a pitiful creature. Couldn't have been more than five or six if Andrews were correct. He was small, underfed. His hair matted and wet, and the poor boy was soaked to the bone. Miraculously, his skin looked thus far unharmed. It appeared as though he had not suffered from exposure or from the waters.

Thank the Lord, Almighty, for minor mercies.

If it truly were a mercy.

The poor creature was quickly ushered below deck, and Andrews followed after the physician, leaving his officers to restore order to the ship.

It truly was a miracle of miracles that the boy was not more injured. The doctor's only prognosis was that the boy was suffering from exhaustion.

For the next two days, the boy was asleep. It was not until noon on the third day, that Andrews had been summoned by Mister Dockridge below deck to see to his new ward. He no longer looked small and frail, and as he was finally awake, Andrews could finally see the shocking pair of green eyes on the small boy.

"Hello son," he said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, sir," said the boy, his voice quiet.

"I should imagine so," said Andrews. "You were floating for some time. You're very brave, making it through what you have."

"I don't feel brave, sir," said the boy.

"Why's that son?"

"Because I couldn't save my momma."

There it was. Stowaways on a merchant vessel no doubt. Not an uncommon occurrence, but still not an instance he had come across.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Percy Jackson, sir."

"Aye, Percy then," nodded Andrews. "I'm Captain Haythem Andrews, Master and Commander of this vessel, and I can promise that you're safe now."

"Thank you, sir."

"I need to know what happened boy," said Andrews, "Are there any other survivors?"

The poor boy trembled violently, but shook his head.

"What happened?"

"Momma called them pirates, sir," he looked up at Andrews. "What are 'pirates' sir?"

Andrews mouth went dry, "Vile creatures, boy. They cater violence and bloodshed. Mischief and Mayhem are their endeavor, and they serve no master but themselves and themselves alone. They are the most despicable creatures imaginable."

"They killed momma," said the boy softly. "They took momma away…Momma never hurt anyone."

"They are monsters in that way, aye," said Andrews. God be good, this poor boy was hurting his aging heart. His sister had recently given birth to a young boy, a young boy that looked tremendously like this poor soul in front of him. The poor soul that had just lost everything.

"I want to kill them." Said the boy viciously, and the vitriol in the boy's tone took Andrews aback.

"I beg your pardon boy?"

"The pirates," said Percy, looking up fiercely and meeting Andrews' gaze unflinchingly, "I'm going to kill them all. They hurt momma, and I'm going to hurt them."

"And how are you going to do that son?" queried Andrews. "You are a small child, I do not doubt your resolve, but you are far from an intimidating sight at the moment."

"I'll join the navy," said Percy hotly. "I've seen them sir, the press-gangs, I know the navy needs men sir, and I'll join up. I'll join up and I'll find the pirates, and I'll hurt them for hurting momma."

Something broke in Andrews' heart. This poor boy. To have such hate in his heart…it would consume him. He had not seen such determination on even the oldest and fiercest of officers. He had no doubt that the boy would follow through on his promise, and it genuinely startled him what became of this poor creature. An idea formed in the back of his mind, an insane idea, but one that seemed to speak to his very soul.

He stood up from the bed, gazing down on the young boy.

"You want to be a pirate hunter, eh boy?"

"More than anything."

Andrews felt his gaze narrow, "Then a pirate hunter you shall be. Congratulations Mr. Jackson…you've just earned your first posting. You will be my cabin boy. You will attend to your duties, do as you are told, and learn the ways of the sailor. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Yes sir!" Said the boy quickly.

"You will be pressed beyond measure. Will be expected to obey every order without question. The life of a sailor is far from a pleasant or an easy one. This life is a hard one, is that truly a life you wish to live?"

"More than anything, sir."

"You will address me as captain, while on my ship, Cabin Boy,"

"Yes Captain," said Percy quickly,

"Then welcome to the crew Cabin Boy Jackson," said Andrews, "Hawthrone! Get this man some clothes." He turned back to Percy,

"Welcome to the Navy."

AN: Double update today because I'm a freak. This is something I've wanted to do for a while, and finally allowed myself to get talked into on Discord. Unlike my other stories, this doesn't have pre-written chapters, I just kinda cranked this out tonight in one sitting in a frenzy. Let me know what you think, and whether this would be something ya'll would be interested in. As always shoutout to Double0Sxvxn for being an awesome Beta and dealing with my bullshit and as always if you enjoyed this but haven't checked out my other work, give them a try you never know you might find something else you like. I'm also on discord now, where I and a bunch of other writers hang out, chat and brainstorm ideas, you just have to copy the link that's in my profile bio if you want to come and hang out with us. Stay safe, stay healthy and have an awesome week.

All My Love and see soon,

LilDB