Wesley set out on the Queen's Pride, that early morning. He was rather
excited, who wouldn't be? Plans ran through his head, bright plans for the
future. The thought that he might never make it never crossed his mind.
Even the small chores he did around the ship for money seemed like nothing,
his thoughts were elsewhere, and it was nothing compared to his former
duties at the farm.
He had been on the ship a week and had earned a small amount of money, not nearly enough for his plans, but a small start. The ship suddenly swerved to the right, and Wesley was crushed between a burly sailor and the side of the ship. He cursed quietly as the sailor stood carefully on his feet, no apologizes offered. Wesley was about to complain when his mouth dropped open at the sight of a ship off to the port. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes and gazed again at the ship. It was still there- The three black masts was there, several cruel looking characters sneering at the helpless ship.
As the two ships collided, Wesley found himself pinned against the other wall, and two large hands grab his shoulders, hurling him to the other side. He blinked to clear his swimming vision as a man he knew vaguely handed him a short sword with a grim expression. "G'luck, m'lad." He said, before entering the already ensuing fray.
A pirate rushed at him, slashing with his sword. So, Wesley defended. A searing pain filled his head as the sword came crashing down, and he fell limp to the ground. Buttercup…. He thought, reaching out as if she were there, before blacking out…
Wesley woke to a pounding headache in a dark chamber. The chains on his arms and legs told him all he needed to know. I'm on Roberts's ship. He knew that the dread pirate never let prisoners live. I have failed her… He thought sadly. Now conscious, he stared about blankly at the other prisoners, some weeping, some talking, others still blissfully unconscious. Their fate was sealed, and they knew it. There was no way to escape the Dread Pirate once he had you in his hold.
The Dread Pirate Roberts smiled. The last load had been a good one, and though the cargo had been mainly people, their belongings were large. He'd found hundreds of coins. He walked down to the prisoners' hold to do his grisly job of killing them. It brought him no pleasure, but he had to do it or lose his crew's respect. A pirate captain without his crew was no captain at all. Occasionally, he would sell some of the more burly or pretty prisoners to slave traders for a load of money. His bright gaze went slowly across the many figures, and was caught by one, a man, more of a boy really, silently sitting in a corner. All life seemed drained out of his eyes, he knew his fate and accepted it. That stopped the Captain's gaze for a while, and he nodded sorrowfully, deciding he should let the lad die first, so he wouldn't have to see the others die.
Wesley blinked, and his gaze suddenly held a fierce fire. He would survive, for Buttercup's sake if not his own. As the Captain approached him, he was plotting a way to escape, but saw none and sank into despair once more. No plan he had would work, unless….
"Roberts" held the sword at just the right angle to kill the lad swiftly. Wesley's head was low, bent as if in readiness for death. As Roberts prepared to strike, the boy lifted his head. A fierce determination filled his eyes as he gazed at the Captain, a fire that made Roberts step backwards a bit. "Please… Please… I must live…" Wesley said, eyes still burning with that internal flame.
Roberts blinked. This was one plea he had never heard before, not a wish for a swift death, nor a despreate plea for life, just a simple statemenet of his need for life. "What is it, boy, that you must live for?" He found himself asking, without even willing the words to be spoken.
Wesley began to tell all about his reason for life as Roberts listened intently. "Well, Wesley… I suppose I can let you live. At the most I can kill you in the morning." He said, taking a key from out of many and unlocked the wrist and ankle chains with a faint click…
He had been on the ship a week and had earned a small amount of money, not nearly enough for his plans, but a small start. The ship suddenly swerved to the right, and Wesley was crushed between a burly sailor and the side of the ship. He cursed quietly as the sailor stood carefully on his feet, no apologizes offered. Wesley was about to complain when his mouth dropped open at the sight of a ship off to the port. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes and gazed again at the ship. It was still there- The three black masts was there, several cruel looking characters sneering at the helpless ship.
As the two ships collided, Wesley found himself pinned against the other wall, and two large hands grab his shoulders, hurling him to the other side. He blinked to clear his swimming vision as a man he knew vaguely handed him a short sword with a grim expression. "G'luck, m'lad." He said, before entering the already ensuing fray.
A pirate rushed at him, slashing with his sword. So, Wesley defended. A searing pain filled his head as the sword came crashing down, and he fell limp to the ground. Buttercup…. He thought, reaching out as if she were there, before blacking out…
Wesley woke to a pounding headache in a dark chamber. The chains on his arms and legs told him all he needed to know. I'm on Roberts's ship. He knew that the dread pirate never let prisoners live. I have failed her… He thought sadly. Now conscious, he stared about blankly at the other prisoners, some weeping, some talking, others still blissfully unconscious. Their fate was sealed, and they knew it. There was no way to escape the Dread Pirate once he had you in his hold.
The Dread Pirate Roberts smiled. The last load had been a good one, and though the cargo had been mainly people, their belongings were large. He'd found hundreds of coins. He walked down to the prisoners' hold to do his grisly job of killing them. It brought him no pleasure, but he had to do it or lose his crew's respect. A pirate captain without his crew was no captain at all. Occasionally, he would sell some of the more burly or pretty prisoners to slave traders for a load of money. His bright gaze went slowly across the many figures, and was caught by one, a man, more of a boy really, silently sitting in a corner. All life seemed drained out of his eyes, he knew his fate and accepted it. That stopped the Captain's gaze for a while, and he nodded sorrowfully, deciding he should let the lad die first, so he wouldn't have to see the others die.
Wesley blinked, and his gaze suddenly held a fierce fire. He would survive, for Buttercup's sake if not his own. As the Captain approached him, he was plotting a way to escape, but saw none and sank into despair once more. No plan he had would work, unless….
"Roberts" held the sword at just the right angle to kill the lad swiftly. Wesley's head was low, bent as if in readiness for death. As Roberts prepared to strike, the boy lifted his head. A fierce determination filled his eyes as he gazed at the Captain, a fire that made Roberts step backwards a bit. "Please… Please… I must live…" Wesley said, eyes still burning with that internal flame.
Roberts blinked. This was one plea he had never heard before, not a wish for a swift death, nor a despreate plea for life, just a simple statemenet of his need for life. "What is it, boy, that you must live for?" He found himself asking, without even willing the words to be spoken.
Wesley began to tell all about his reason for life as Roberts listened intently. "Well, Wesley… I suppose I can let you live. At the most I can kill you in the morning." He said, taking a key from out of many and unlocked the wrist and ankle chains with a faint click…