A/N: Hello again! I have chapter four up and ready to enjoy. Thanks to all who have read and reviewed my story. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own The Little Mermaid
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Eric hadn't slept a wink the night before. The ground was wet and stank of mold and old urine. His stomach was growing fiercely from hunger, and he was facing torment with thoughts of the men who had died the day before. And of curse, there was Ariel. She more than likely assumed he was dead, and the thought clenched his stomach into knots. He knew that, if there was anything left in his stomach, his anxious state would have caused him to vomit it all up onto the molded straw beneath his feet.
Eric paced the small confinement of the cell. He was exhausted, but he refused to sit down and rest. A man who wasn't vigilant and aware of his surroundings never lasted long. At least, that's what Captain Charles used to say to him.
Thinking of the deceased captain saddened the prince. He would never hear one of Captain Charles's wise words of wisdom again. The man had died protecting the kingdom, though. He would have wanted it to be that way.
It was half-an-hour later when a pirate came down jangling a ring of rusty keys in his hand. He smiled nastily at Eric, revealing blackened teeth.
"I was sent ta get ya," the pirate said. "Cap'n wants ya."
Eric went reluctantly. He was taken up a pair of creaky steps and into the blinding sunlight. Momentarily stunned by the bright light, he squinted and furiously blinked his eyes to adjust his vision.
There was a flurry of activity going on above deck. Men manned the sails, scrubbed the deck with pails of murky water, and brushes with their bristles encrusted with grime; and cleaned their pistols until the weapons shone. They mended tears in the sails, cursed foul obscenities, and went about their work with skin dark from days spent out in the often-unforgivable sun.
Many stopped their work to gawk or sneer at Eric, but were barked at by the quarter master to continue on with their grueling tasks.
Eric was brought to the captain's quarters. Once again, he had to adjust his vision to the dim lighting. When he could properly make out his surroundings, he was surprised to see the orderliness around him.
The place where the captain spent his time when he wasn't on deck shouting orders to his subordinates was sparsely furnished. There was a large mahogany desk that sat in the middle of the cabin, and on its scarred top lay a map of the charted seas, spread out flat and kept from rolling back together by stones. Various navigation tools for mapping out routes lay neatly to the side in easy reach. A bottle of rum was conveniently nearby for the occasional swig to clench a man's often insatiable thirst.
Among other things in the cabin, there was a wide, tall-backed chair, a large chest that sat against the far wall to keep maps, and perhaps treasure, and a shelf containing various books, arranged neatly by the color of their binding. Indeed, the captain was a man who liked order. Not an item in the room was misplaced. It drove Eric mad to see such immaculacy. He was a man who appreciated the art of being neat and orderly, but not to such extremes.
The captain himself was seated at his desk, calmly going over his maps. He glanced up when he heard the door shut with a thunk.
Eric's escort had left him alone with the unpredictable pirate captain.
"Come in. Make yerself comfortable," the captain said with false cordiality. "We have much to discuss on this fine day."
Eric took a step of uncertainty toward the desk. "I have nothing to discuss with you, pirate," he said, with quiet vehemence.
The captain's eyes narrowed. "Ye will once I have informed ye of me name." A nasty smile spread across his lips. "Of course, if ye would prefer to be fed to th' sharks . . ."
Eric stiffened. "What is it that you want?"
"Years ago, I served under yer father's leadership. I was like a brother to him. He trusted me with his life, which, unfortunately, met such a devastating end."
Eric was suddenly curious. Begrudgingly, he asked, "Who are you to have gained such trust from my father?"
"Me name is Bartholomew Blanchard, Captain Blanch to me men."
The name sounded vaguely familiar to Eric. However, the reason why eluded him and he couldn't comprehend where he had heard it. Perhaps his father had mentioned the man at some point in time, but Eric more than likely hadn't been listing, or was otherwise preoccupied as a young boy usually was.
Captain Blanch didn't seem bothered that his name failed to make an impression on the young prince. He stood from his broad desk and started to pace, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.
"Afore yer father died, he bequeathed me with a treasured possession of his," the man continued. "Fer years I have had this particular treasure, but fer the life of me I could never seem to open it."
The captain stoped his pacing to give Eric his full attention. He looked like a man on a quest to find answers.
"I need a key," he stated. "A small gold key, to be precise. Th' very key yer father left ye before he met his tragic end."
Recognition suddenly dawned on Eric. He reached for the item in question, but realized his action and let his hand drop limply to his side.
"The only thing my father left me was a part of his kingdom," he said quietly, hoping to sound composed, although his heart was pounding a fast rhythm in his chest. "A kingdom in which I must hasten back to. If you allow me to live, that is."
The pirate captain let out a loud bark of laughter that chilled Eric to the bone.
"That depends, boy," he drawled out, "on rather yer going to cooperate." His gaze suddenly darkened, like the sky before a violent storm. "I also happen to know when a man be lyin'."
Eric stood up straighter. He refused to cower to this tyrant. "If you were more specific, I might be able to give you the answers you seek. What does this key we speak of go to? A chest, perhaps?"
Captain Blanch turned and strode over to the shelf containing the various leather-bound books. He swept his gaze over the bindings, then selected a large volume with dust caking the top of the pages. He brought it to the desk and set it down with a heavy thump. A cloud of dust rose, along with a musty scent.
Eric looked at the book, then up at the captain, expecting an explanation.
Captain Blanch gave an enigmatic smile. Rather than keep up the suspense, he opened up the book. Eric was surprised to find that it wasn't a book at all, but a hiding place for a smaller brown leather journal with a scarred binding, and pages that had turned yellow from age. What caught his attention was the brass lock keeping the book bound, its secrets from being sought out by the unworthy.
"Yer father gave this to me fer safekeeping," Captain Blanch growled. "Said only his son had th' key to unlock th' treasures hidden inside."
Eric felt a cool weight o his chest. He suddenly wanted to tear the chain from around his neck and toss the bloody thing in the ocean. It didn't matter to him if the key opened the book to secrets his father never told him.
But he remembered being given this key by his father years ago, with one request from him. "What ever you do, my son," his father had said, "do not let the key fall in the wrong hands. Guard it with your life."
And that's exactly what Eric had done for the past several years. He'd worn the damned key around his neck, never questioning his father's reasons, but obeying like he always did. As the years went by Eric had regarded the key as nothing but something to remember his father by. He had never stopped to think just how important—or dangerous—this key was.
Now, he was facing a man who possessed the lock and expected the key to be handed over to him, no questions asked.
Do not let it fall in the wrong hands . . .
Eric realized he couldn't allow the journal to be opened. The secrets inside could be dangerous, and he would rather die than let a pirate like Blanchard discover just what they were.
Captain Blanch seemed to sense the bold reluctance in Eric, because a slow smile—cold and merciless—spread across his scarred face.
"Take all th' time ye need, boy," he said. "But until ye decide to cooperate, there be no food for ye to sate yer hunger, no sunlight to warm yer skin. Th' only company ye will have be th' rats."
Eric wasn't fazed by the threat. He squared his shoulders, refusing to speak.
"So be it. Luddy!" Captain Blanch bellowed, "get yer bloody arse in here and take the prince back to his cell."
The door open to reveal the pirate who had escorted Eric up. There was a smug smile on his face. He grabbed Eric roughly by the arm and dragged him out.
Eric only got a scant minute to breath in the fresh sea air. A moment later, he was thrown back into the brig, where the air was damp and the only light came from the cracks in the ceiling above him.
He turned to face the wall, then reached into his shirt and pulled out the chain. The small, golden key dangling before him taunted him. He closed his fingers over it.
The key could be dangerous. But he realized something else, something that made his heart clench painfully in his chest.
It was also the key to seeing Ariel again.