Title: Of the Sea
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Title: 20. Michael Raven
Summary: The story of Michael Raven. Read and find out.
Timeline: Thursday, September 28, 1666. Approximately nine years before Of the Sea.
Author: Cicatrix (Marin K.)

He was twenty, a young man with dark hair and pale eyes, a quick laugh and a smile innocent enough to be suspicious. He was neither a pirate nor an honest man, but instead a medium, who rested uncertainly on the edge between. He'd arrived in Nassau that afternoon, with a pocket full of ill-gotten currency, and a craving for a stiff drink. It was not a particularly honest town, and he quickly located an inn that seemed to be of extremely ill-repute.

Once inside, he crossed to the bar and ordered a tankard of strong ale. He found an abandoned table, and set himself in the seat to wait. It was not long before another man approached him, this one older, with dark eyes and a disheveled mass of ash-blonde hair that was attached in a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. He stood silently by the table, until the younger man nodded his permission. The other sat across from him, and lazily raised a hand to flag one of the barmaids. He ordered an ale, and then peered curiously at the dark-haired lad across from him.

"Your name?" the younger asked with an arched brow.

"Daniel Clark. Yours?"

"Michael Raven," he said, flashing a quick smile. "What's your trade?"

"Merchant marine," Daniel said, with a wink that most others would miss. The barmaid deposited his order in front of him, and he paid her. She sauntered off to service another table, and both men watched her appraisingly with subtle smiles on their lips. Michael nodded knowingly, and returned the wink to signal that he understood. "You got a ship?" the other asked.

Michael shook his head, "No. I'm looking into acquiring one though." His tone was sly, a hint of mischief to his words. Daniel grinned at his new companion, knowing the translation all too well. The younger man continued, "I may need some help though," he admitted, the smile he wore far too sweet to be taken at face value.

"I think I could be of service to you."

The pair swiftly downed their drinks, and wandered out into the afternoon sun. They made their way in silence to the docks, which were furnished for the most part by large merchant vessels, entirely unsuitable for their purposes. Every so often, one would point curiously at some ship that caught their eye, and most often would be greeted by a shake of the head by the other.

It was late afternoon by the time Michael indicated a bark, a small three-master with six guns a side. Her name was the Auroraand both men fell in love the moment they laid eyes on her. Her sails were rigged with white canvas, and a British flag flew from her mainmast. She was a beauty, and Michael knew that he had to have her. He turned to his companion.

"You've got a pistol, right?" he inquired.

"Aye, you?"

"Aye, and a cutlass. Let's go."

The pair sauntered inconspicuously up the gangway, pleased to see that the deck was occupied only by a single watch of two men. With a silent nod, Michael indicated that he would take one, and Daniel the other. He grinned, and disappeared to take care of his half of the job, leaving Michael to deal with his. The watchman was looking the other way, so it was easy. Drawing his pistol, his came up behind him, and clapped his hand over the man's mouth, prodding the barrel into his throat threateningly.

"Be very quiet," he whispered, "and I won't have to hurt you." His captive nodded, and swallowed hard. Removing his hand from the man's mouth, Michael reached over and grabbed a rope that was draped over the rail. Without a word, he lowered his pistol, and quickly bound the man's hands. Quietly, he asked, "Is there anyone below decks?" The man shook his head, and Michael smiled, taking his arm and leading him to the base of the mainmast, where Daniel was waiting with his own charge.

They bound their prisoners to the mast, and it was only with minor difficulty that the two men could crew the ship. Fortunately, it was already fully rigged, and the sails needed only to be set to catch the wind. Michael took the place at the wheel, watching as his new shipmate made sure all the lines were tight.

After an hour, they'd gained a suitable distance from the dock. The captives were unbound, and deposited in a rowboat which was released to the sea with a pair of oars. Michael grinned over the side of the newly-liberated ship, waving cheerfully at the pair, who would no doubt soon lose their jobs due to their failure to defend the ship. As they rowed away, one of them called back. "Are you pirates?" he asked.

Michael shrugged. "Two steps left," he shouted, then turned to return to the helm, leaving the freed men to wonder what he meant. There are three steps to becoming a pirate. The first, Michael had just completed: commandeer a small ship. The next was to make a black flag.

"Dan!" Michael called, and the older man came immediately to his side.

"Aye, Cap'n?" he said. The younger beamed, resting his hand affectionately on the wheel of the ship; his ship, as Daniel had just confirmed. There was a part of him that wanted to inquire, to verify his position, but he knew not to doubt what had just been granted. The Aurorawas his.

"What do we have in the line of sewing supplies?" he asked curiously.

Michael was thankful that he knew how to sew. He was also thankful that the ship had kept some black canvas and some white, as well as strong needles and thread, all of which were most likely used for the repair of clothing or sails. He had left Daniel to mind the helm, and make sure they were on course to their destination: Tortuga. He had then retired to complete his second step.

His would not bear the skulls or bones that were so common on the black flags of pirates. He cut his own designs out of the white cloth with a careful hand, laid each piece out on the black field of the flag, before stitching the pieces together with infinite precision. He repeated the process for each side. When the flag was complete, it bore a white heart, and beneath it a pair of crossed swords.

It took a week to reach Tortuga, where the pair set about the task of gathering a crew. They found a good one of twenty men, good sailors and thieves, the lot of them, and good men as well. They again set sail, under the flag of Captain Michael Raven. There was only one step their captain had left to complete, and he did it. With a savage grin, he took on the world with reckless abandon, in a campaign that would last just over a year. They looted enough ships to fill the Aurora's hold ten times over, and despite his disappearance, Michael Raven's declaration of war would never be entirely forgotten.

Author's note: Michael Raven's story will be tied in with the main story really soon, I promise. :P I'm about to start working on the next bit. There are three steps to becoming a pirate. One: Commandeer a small ship. Two: Make a black flag. Three: Declare war on the world. This is according to one of the script-writers of Pirates of the Caribbean, and that statement was the inspiration for this story.

Review Responses:

DaydreamBeliever14: I'm glad you enjoyed it. More had been posted.

ChocolateEclar: I'm glad you like it! If you were a bit behind, it's probably because I've been writing a lot today. :P Michael will be explained more over the next couple of chapters, and the questions "who the hell is he?" and "is he Miriam" will be answered very soon. Promise! I'm glad you like Morgan. She's cute. She's going to have a large part later... but it may be a while, and I might have to tell you "hey, this is her large part!" before you notice that it is. I love you!

heather321: Indeed!