(Disclaimer: Pinters and Rags don't belong to me. Neither does the entire Caribbean.)
Just the Way it Should Be
Pintel didn't even glance at the dazzling morning sky as he dragged himself to the stern of the ship; half of his vision was covered by his drooping eyelids, and he was too busy trying to keep his heavy head from clunking onto the rail beside him to care about the scenery. He'd only gotten four hours of sleep since the departure from Cuba—Pellinore had ordered the crew back on deck before the poor pirate could get any more.
Despite his weariness, Pintel had still stopped to check on Ragetti before leaving the crew's quarters. He'd stumbled over to the powder barrels, using his exhaustion as an excuse to lean on them, and glanced down to see his scrawny little charge sleeping peacefully under the old burlap cover. Pintel had regarded the boy with silent envy, then turned and left him before anyone noticed the stocky crewman standing there in thought.
That'd happened over an hour ago, and Pintel was still more or less wishing he could trade places with Ragetti.
The drowsy sailor stifled a yawn as he made his way up the steps to the quarterdeck and stopped at the starboard ratline, one of the four massive rope ladders that led to the crow's nests. Pintel paused once to glance cautiously at Pellinore, who was standing tentatively at the wheel behind him. When he saw that the captain was preoccupied with his navigations, the balding man then reached for the rigging beside the ratline and allowed his thoughts to wander again.
Pintel decided that he had no opinion of Ragetti anymore. In the course of three days, the child had gone from being a silly mutt to a problematic burden, and had even become a moronic scholar along the way. Having an opinion about him was almost impossible at this point, and Pintel was just too tired to attempt the feat this morning. He'd never been particularly attached to the boy, and last evening's strenuous mission had turned his detachment into a temporary indifference. Even his goal of besting Rebecca couldn't make him think better of Ragetti's companionship at that moment.
"Is there a reason why you're staring at me, Mr. Pintel?" Pellinore's voice suddenly demanded.
Pintel jumped in response; it hadn't even occurred to him before this that he was still staring at the captain. Regardless of his intent, the pirate nervously sparked to life when the Englishman's gaze fixed on him.
He shook his head quickly. "No! No no no, Cap'n! I were just…uh…" He frantically tried to produce an excuse, but Pellinore immediately stepped closer, keeping one stiff hand on the wheel.
"I'm sensing a bit of mistrust on your part." The captain seemed rather paranoid now that Winchcomb was gone. "Is it because of the disaster at Pilón?"
Pintel was struggling to stay calm. "…It weren't a disaster like yeh finks," he said timidly, not wanting to answer the question. "We got away wif the profits, after all."
Pellinore shifted his eyes slightly. "Indeed."
He looked less angry now. That was good.
The captain paused, then he stepped back to stand at the wheel. "Mr. Pintel, are you familiar with the Lord's Book?"
"…The wot?"
"The Bible, Mr. Pintel."
The balding man wrinkled his brow in confusion, looking almost as dim as Ragetti. "…No, Cap'n."
The other didn't seem surprised by this. "A noble text. Wise, assuring…and it has a great deal to say about the subject of loyalty."
There was a particular emphasis on the last word that made Pintel shifted his feet uncomfortably. The captain inhaled slowly and continued.
"It's a difficult virtue to master. A demanding one. Loyalty requires honesty and sacrifice, but a man can give neither when he knows not where his loyalty lies." The last part was spoken in a lighter tone, as if the Englishman were reciting it.
Pintel could see where the speech was going. "…You don't 'ave to worry 'bout a mutiny from me, Cap'n," he murmured as he averted his eyes. It was the truth, but Pintel had a feeling that this declaration stemmed more from fear than loyalty.
Pellinore squinted at the horizon. "I didn't think so."
The captain went silent then, showing Pintel that the conversation was over. Once this sank in, the stocky crewman turned away to awkwardly resume his work by the ratline, but his silent morning was soon interrupted once again.
"Captain!"
Pintel and Pellinore's heads both snapped up to spot Owl Eyes waving to them from the crow's nest and pointing to the west, behind the Urchin. "There's a ship be approaching us!"
Pellinore strained his eyes to see the cook. "What kind of ship is it?"
Owl Eyes gestured widely. "Is a BIG ship! Much sails, very fast! Travels on water like lightening!"
Pintel rolled his eyes and glanced at the rigging. Maybe he could blow that little squawker overboard if he moved the sails just right. It'd ensure a quiet morning at least. Beside him, Pellinore stepped back to follow Owl Eyes's direction.
"Take the wheel," he ordered to nobody in particular. Pintel turned away with another yawn and let Nequom claim the task. As the captain came to a stop at the Urchin's rail, he reached inside his blue overcoat and drew out a spyglass that looked brand new. There was a pause as he peered through the instrument, searching for the other ship on the horizon.
And then Pintel was sure he saw the Englishman spring clear out of his skin.
Pellinore spun around, suddenly hysterical. "Raise the sails higher!" he shouted to his startled crew. "All of you get to it! Pick up speed!"
"What is it?" Cormac demanded from the lower deck.
"The Vasudeva's Folly!"
Behind Cormac, Ashby twisted his face in confusion. "The what?"
"Scarborough!" Pellinore snapped as he frantically took the wheel again. "It's Scarborough's ship!"
Pintel's eyes immediately bulged like saucers and he made a double take towards the stern of the ship, suddenly wide awake. Scarborough?
"How can yeh tell?" Cormac asked calmly. It was like the man simply refused to be concerned by all this.
"It doesn't matter!" Pellinore blasted in response. "I recognize it. Now raise the sails!"
"The sails're already as 'igh as they'll go!" Rub shouted back. "This filthy bucket ain't built for speed!"
Wood suddenly jumped in. "Then why don't we fight?"
Yager nodded and pointed to the below deck staircase. "Aye! The cannons've done us a load of good already."
This suggestion only horrified Pellinore even more. "NO! Don't!"
"Don't?" Pintel finally chimed in. "That Scarborough'll gut us alive if 'e catches us! Why can't we fight 'im?"
"Because the Folly has double-barreled cannons!" the captain answered unhesitatingly. "Any fire we open on her will come back to us twice as strong! We won't last!"
"If we open fire now, she might not be around to fire back!" Yager argued reasonably.
"NO CANNONS!"
Pintel clutched the rigging as he tried to stay calm. How could this have happened? Everything had been going so well in the beginning; Pellinore had looked like a promising captain, his plan had seemed failsafe, and a tidy profit had been guaranteed. Now, that once charismatic captain was on the verge of absolute panic, his plan had failed horribly, and the only thing that seemed to be guaranteed was a bloody burial at sea. The thought made Pintel's head spin. It was almost too much for him to grasp in the midst of the crew's heated argument.
Pellinore wet his lips and looked back as Owl Eyes reminded him of their rapidly gaining enemy. Then a desperate plan came to him at last and he turned to face his tensed crew again.
"…Empty the ship. Get rid of everything!"
"What?" Cormac asked, puzzled.
"We'll move faster if we're lighter! Get rid of our cargo! Guns, tables, barrels, anything that isn't nailed in place! Throw it all over! NOW!"
The crew finally took to these orders and made a mad rush below deck. Those that couldn't fit through the crowded passageway decided to remain outside and do away with the array of supplies lying around them. Buckets and mops, grapples and ropes, crates and ammunition—nothing was spared from the sea's waiting jaws. Pintel and Rub were even shooting at the chain on the Urchin's left anchor, hoping to remove at least one of the two giant weights. But it was just as they were working towards this that something very serious dawned on Pintel.
He could hear the rest of the crew below him, shuffling back and forth wildly and shouting unheard orders to each other. They were tearing everything apart down there. The balding man could just picture it now: the whole lot of them, dragging away cannons, emptying supply cabinets, snatching up stray weapons…and picking up barrels.
Gun powder barrels.
Pintel cursed to himself. Ragetti! That stupid twit! That brainless little…he was still down there! The crew was going to—
The pirate was biting his sleeve in horror now. He had to do something! If that scrawny bag of bones was found, they could both be drifting home on those barrels! He cursed again and sped off, ignoring Rub's indignant shouts and frantically hissing that foolish child's name under his breath.
Pintel had to get below deck—fast.
---------------------------------------------------
Ragetti couldn't see anything.
It'd all happened so fast. The first thing he'd heard was the shouting above him, which got his attention right away. Then he'd heard the thundering footsteps all racing to one side of the ship, and had seen the rowdy crewmen stampeding down the stairs into view. They were all going crazy, grabbing anything in sight and roaring at each other like starving and raving animals. It'd frightened him, and even the solitude of the round wooden barriers in front of him couldn't snuff out that overwhelming fright. And so he'd done the only other thing he could think of: he'd snatched up that old burlap sack that he'd come to know so well and scrambled back inside it.
The crew was still in the room; he could still hear them yelling. The boy cringed at the sound of falling wood and curled himself even tighter into a ball. They were all around him…they were all around him…
There was a loud scraping sound off to his right just then, and the lad realized that one of the barrels had been removed. A second later, two feet staggered to a halt in front of him and he was fiercely wrenched upward. Ragetti felt the burlap walls tighten around him, and his body immediately left the floor as he was tilted upright. The world spun for a terrifying moment, and he thumped heavily against a softer, rapidly moving surface—a man's back!
The boy jammed one of his bony fists into his mouth to hold back a yelp. Somebody was carrying him off!
And he could only hope with all of his pathetic little being that the man was Pintel…
--
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reviews wanted!
