Disclaimer: I reiterate–it's not mine. It's all still Big Mickey's.
A/N: Well, I haven't updated since the dawn of time because I started working on another fic (a H2G2 I'm working on with my sister, if you care, "Brothers Or Something Of The Sort", along some of the same "prequel" lines as this one. I love prequels! ) I just sorta figured I'd do a chapter for this one while I'm at it. This is probably just gonna be a short chapter, just to get the characters from one place to another, just to do until the next longer update. Also, another point: part of the delay was due to figuring a way to get the path designed for this fic to agree with Dead Man's Chest, So, fear not, I puzzled out a timeline. So back by popular demand , here you go:
Chapter 5– "Upside The Head"
Ris just about accepted that I was there to stay. I most certainly was not about to dropped off anywhere while there was anything I could do about it and I was clearly clever enough that there was.
So the Black Pearl was outfitted with two cabin boys. Ris had already come to me and Billy and told us he knew we orchestrated the whole fiasco at all three of the places we went to, but told us he wasn't angry with us and if we thought that far outside the proverbial box there might be a future for us in this line of work anyways.
I was thrilled. I was living out the dream of every red-blooded, properly raised ten year old boy in...well, anywhere really. You hear all kinds of sentiments from boys who's ages have just ventured into the uncharted territory of double-digits along the lines of running away to be a pirate or growing up to be a pirate or what have you, but the total population actually doing exactly that amounted to, approximately, me and Billy.
Life plays tricks though. If you don't know that for yourself now you will soon enough. Maybe some time after your voice changes, hah. After that episode of elation came one of prolonged, murderous boredom.
All the colonies we'd visited so far had been relatively close together. Within a couple days of each other, which is very close for transport by ship. I'd never been onboard a ship for a long haul before and I was far from prepared for it.
Being at sea for long, rather dull periods of time is one of the less-publicised aspects to my sort of lifestyle. No prey, no pay as the saying goes and no pay means no shore time in interesting ports. Sometimes you're trolling about the trade routes for months before sighting a ship and then sometimes it's an empty one and pointless to attack. Not to mention that travel by ship takes a long time whether you're waiting around for some fat merchant vessel to come by or just going from one place to another one. If a ship's due in August, no one blinks if it's still not there in September, it becomes a mild annoyance to wait for in October, a real inconvenience in November, but no one gets worried until December, but then the ship arrives in January, still not considered to have been inordinately late.
What was my point again?
Ah, right. My first long haul on board a ship.
Now, the first thing you have to know is where we were going. My uncle Ris was starting to become a pirate of some renown, and it was becoming clear to some fairly important persons overseas that it would be much more productive and beneficial to have him and the Pearl on their side in some upcoming campaign. They were offering an extremely lucrative sum pay for his help. Lucrative enough in fact to catch Ris' ear. But they couldn't send him the details through the mail. They were too sensitive; the letter might be intercepted. That, and of course the lack of a fixed address to send it to. He had to come to them if he was interested. And like I said, he was.
But the thing was this: these fairly important persons who wanted to employ him lived across the Atlantic. In England.
It was a long haul: it was some time in late spring. We were due to arrive in August. And being my foolish and inexperienced ten year old self, I expected us to arrive in August.
Time and seasons are easy enough to lose track of when you're on a ship in the Caribbean where it doesn't matter where you are, you'll miss winter if you blink.
We'd barely been out for a month when Billy and I began to succumb to boredom. We were below deck in the cargo hold–a bit of a default location for two cabin boys who didn't know what to do with themselves since most of our work was done in there– as we addressed the problem.
"Do you want to–"
"No, sorry, Billy, I don't."
"Well, that's alright, we could–"
"No, I don't think we could."
"Then instead, let's–"
"No, let's not."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"I dunno."
Billy looked around. His eyes fell on some spare bits of broken lumber.
"I have an idea." he said, "I haven't done this since before I joined Ris' crew, but I remember it being pretty fun. When you were living in...wherever...did you play games?"
"Well, no, actually. Not really."
"Oh...well, you seemed like you would. You never...pretended to be things and made up stories?"
"Oh, those games. Yes, I did...but alone."
"Alone!"
"You have a problem with it?"
"Only that you're daft."
"Thank you."
"Anyway, I have an idea."
It was several hours later that two pieces of lumber had been crudely and clumsily sanded comparatively smooth. They had been whittled roughly to points, and one side of each board had been carved with a curve. With many instances of cursing, banging of thumbs with hammers, and accidentally bent nails, we managed to nail another piece of wood crosswise about six inches from one end of each piece of wood.
There was some whispering and mischievous laughter as we set a scene for ourselves to play in. It was a long time ago in ancient Rome. The scene we set, not the actual date. I was the nameless, imprisoned slave, oppressed, beaten, and supposedly never to escape the gladiatorial pits. Billy was Emperor Stylus of Rome, the brave warrior emperor, who fights in the pits for fun. We were to meet in the sands of the colloseum, which for our purposes were the decks of the Black Pearl, at the end of that conversation.
It wasn't a particularly dignified affair. We were just ten or so, you understand, and neither of our skills with a blade were much to look at. Ris had been training us, of course, and not just in the particulars of running a ship. We were both expected to be fully-functioning members of the crew one day, and that meant knowing how to handle ourselves and our weapons in a raid or any other situation. So we weren't just waving sticks around and hoping for the best. Basically, we knew what we were doing, but not well.
The sound of wooden blade clunking against wooden blade is something less exciting than the clang of steel on steel, to say the least, but as you can see with any pair of ten year old boys equiped with wooden sticks, we couldn't have been happier if we were weilding jewel-encrusted scimitars. The boards collided and we faked back and forth withjuvenile exuberance and inexperience. Like I've said before, I was a small, scrawny, monkey-like thing when I was a lad, but I don't recall if I've mentioned that Billy was a bigger boy. Not saying he was heavy, more that he was tall, broad shoulders, muscular. Looked like a grappler. So he had trouble catching me, but when he did, he gave me welts that lasted a week. Me, I was quick but didn't hit as hard. Riddled him blck and blue with bruises.
I've always been one that tended to get under the skin of people around me. Get them to think and feel what I want them to. Even when I don't mean to. But when I'm happy or excited, so's everyone around me. Usually.The game escalated, not just strikes, blocks and footwork, now also laughter, shouts and catcalls. And most of all, cheating. It and anything lse to gain an upperhand was not only allowed, but encourged. I've always been a creative cheater.
As the game got bigger, and louder and more energetic, we both leaped on top of crates and tables and whatnot, trying to gain a higher point to stand on, like we'd been taught—it's harder to fight someone standing above you, you understand. As we tussled and jostled and got knocked off of things, we eventually started backing our way up the stairs from the hold.
The crew was woken from the bored sleepiness brought on by long times at sea with all the work done. They took notice of us miniature pirates in our miniature deul, gathering around and egging us on. I've always loved attention, and was absorbing the laughter and cheers and applause like a sponge in a bowl of water.
Billy had overpowered me with his significantly greater bulk, forcing me back against the railing of the upper deck. I ducked under his arm and stepped round behind him, and grabbed a belaying pin—you know, one of those things you ti ropes to that look vaguely like rolling pin handles arranged along parts of the rail—they come out and in a tight place you can use them as a club. But I had no actual intention of bludgeoning Billy, of course. The line between fantasy and reality can get a bit elusive at times, but I had a good handle on it at that particular one. I used the belaying pin to wrap him on the knuckles, making him drop him wooden sword. I kicked it away, then backed him against the rail.In the interests of striking a dashing, victorious pose, I tossed away the largeish, ungraceful belaying pin.
Somewhere behind me, it collided with something solid and annoyed. The first I infer by the sound, the second by the yelp the target made.
It was almost in unison that the entire crew turned aound and took one step back from me. I stood frozen to the spot with the point of my wooden sword still pointed at Billy.
Ris had stepped out of his cabin to see what the commotion was. He was just in time to get in the way of my belaying pin. Which I still hold was his fault, the belaying pin had some momentum going, who was he to interupt it?
"Jack. Why am I not even thinking of considering the merest possibility of being just slightly inclined to being surprised?"
"Because I'm just that good."
Ris looked at us sternly for a moment. Then a good-natured smile spread across his face.
"Good answer. And good fight, boys. Now back to work or find something less theatrical to occupy your time."