Jakes hated these kinds of ships.
He hated how large they were, hated how crowded they were, and most of all, hated how mistreated they were. The deck beneath his feet was sunburnt and splintering, the sails were grey with dirt, and the Union Jack hung limply from three-quarter ways up the mainmast.
Walking through the mass of huddled passengers, he ignored how they cowered away from him in fear. Once upon a time, that blatant terror from recognition would put him in a good mood for a month. But as his reputation fell, the bounty on his head rose, and now his name was known far and wide in these parts. He paused in front of a young woman, who immediately cried out and clutched her jewel necklace closer to her chest, the perfect representation of the wealthy, materialistic nobility onboard.
Christ, he hated these kinds of ships.
Full of the upper class, rich enough to pay sailors to look the other way. Below deck was one vast illegal festivity, full of alcohol from the south and opioids from the west as English lords and ladies travelled east to the New World. On the other hand, it did mean quite a lot of high-priced stock sitting all in one place and managing to pillage even just one of these ships brought in more income than five merchant vessels put together. Jewels, silver, and gold all had a quick turnaround, and the fine food and alcohol kept his crew happy, after all.
Either way, it all boiled down to Jakes never passing up the opportunity to capture this particular type of passenger ship.
But that didn't mean he had to like it.
Passing Strange, he raised a solitary eyebrow, and his Quartermaster nodded in return.
All passengers and sailors were accounted for then, rounded up in shivering huddles on deck and guarded by a handful of pirates, while the rest of his crew searched for valuables and food.
Ducking below deck, he headed for the front of the ship, knowing from experience that only the richest of passengers were given rooms there, with wide portholes that overlooked the sea. He saw Trewlove disappear into one of the cabins and used his pistol to nudge open the next door up.
Empty.
Stepping into the room, he slowly looked around, taking in the rumbled bedsheets and still flickering candles. His crew had gotten these people up in a hurry, then, and he felt a warm coiling of satisfaction in his stomach at the thought. Heading straight for the vanity table, he quickly yet meticulously began rifling through drawers and jewellery boxes, coming up with quite a few precious stones and gems. There were a pair of breeches never before worn, sensible women's shoes, and half a dozen linen shirts that could be used to repair the sails if nothing else.
Gathering everything up into a small bundle, he left it on the desk, before turning to explore the rest of the room and-
Froze.
Jakes blinked.
Blinked again.
And then swiftly rubbed his eyes for good measure.
In front of him on the other side of the bed and quite invisible from the cabin door was a... boy?
He took a cautious step forward.
The boy didn't move, remaining curled up in a tight little ball on the unforgiving wooden floor. Jakes cleared his throat pointedly, but there was still no response. Frowning now, he made his way closer, pistol drawn and the other hand on his cutlass, just in case. He crouched down next to the strange sight and slowly reached out to pull the boy's arms away from his face.
His eyes were closed.
"Shit".
Dropping his weapon, he searched blindly for a pulse, and when he couldn't find it, he lowered the boy's arms and rolled him onto his back instead, yanking open his threadbare shirt to see if he was breathing.
He was.
But that wasn't all.
Jakes stared with a sort of morbid fascination as his rough treatment caused half-healed wounds to reopen, blood bubbling up from the stranger's chest and drawing lines down his skin, curving over prominent ribs and pale skin and blue-yellow splotches before silently dripping onto the wood below. Beneath the gruesome artwork was a multitude of scars, some years and years old, some only a few weeks.
It was ongoing, then.
He took a deep breath, willed himself to remain calm, and then tapped the side of the boy's face as gently yet purposefully as he could. It took a long minute before his eyelashes flickered, and even then, they only opened halfway. But it was enough for Jakes to see how his pupils were practically nonexistent.
Drugged.
Christ, Thursday never had to deal with shit like this.
Jakes gave a self-deprecating smirk.
No, Thursday just had to deal with him.
Leaning back on his haunches, he considered the stranger in front of him. He needed a doctor, that was for sure, and something told him that the sailors on board this ship couldn't be held accountable for that. And considering that it was whoever owned this room that had done this to the boy in the first place, and had likely been doing so for quite some time, it was safe to say that the passengers wouldn't help him either.
Which only left one option.
He scowled half-heartedly at the unconscious form as he stood, before making his way to the cabin door and sticking his head out to try and find someone. He was in luck; Trewlove was just leaving her own pillaged room, a rucksack of goods draped over one shoulder.
She nodded once. "Captain".
"Get the doctor".
She immediately frowned, taking a concerned step forward. "The doctor? Surely you haven't-"
"It's not for me".
She opened her mouth, a hundred and one questions on her tongue, before thinking better of it, curbing her curiosity, and nodding again.
"Yes sir".
Jakes watched her dash off with tendrils of pride in his chest - He always had liked that girl.
Returning to the room, he considered the stranger for a moment, before shrugging and continuing his search for gold and alcohol. It wasn't like he could do anything for him right now, after all, so he might as well continue the raiding he'd originally come in here for.
A neat row of vials caught his attention on a shelf above the mirror, and he went over to investigate. More than half were empty, but none of them were labelled. Curious, he picked one up, opened it, and took a sniff. His nose immediately wrinkled in disgust.
Bitter.
The door opened behind him.
"Sergeant?"
He picked up a full bottle.
"Other side of the bed".
That one smelt the same as well. They all did, in fact.
He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him.
"Good God!"
Turning to face the doctor, Jakes watched as he stared in shock at the bloody and bruised stranger for a moment, before quickly jumping into action, kneeling down next to him with one hand reaching for his wrist.
"Unconscious" DeBryn announced, "But not naturally, although there doesn't appear to be any head wound..."
"Opium".
He blinked and glanced up at him. "Opium?"
Jakes held up the vial in his hand.
"Laudanum, by the smell of it. Quite liberal use, too".
DeBryn swore and turned back to the boy. "Well... At least that'll make moving him easier".
"Moving him, doc?"
He got a raised eyebrow in return. "You're not suggesting that we leave him here?"
"He's not dying".
"He's being abused!"
Jakes flinched, sharply, and the doctor immediately softened.
"... I'm sorry, Sarge, but I can't in good conscience leave him aboard this ship. Either he's coming with us, or I'm staying here!"
"And be arrested for piracy the second they port?"
"I'm a doctor first, a pirate second" he countered, "Who's to say that I wasn't captured? Held against my will? It's happened to many a man before".
Jakes studied him for a minute, and then let his gaze drift lower to the cause of all this strife. The boy was beaten, bruised, bloody… abused, as the doctor had said.
"It's another mouth to feed".
They had the chance to rescue him, to save him from this life of misery.
"Box is gone, so we're down a man anyway".
And hadn't he always wished that somebody had saved him?
"... Fine!" he snapped, "Get Strange to carry him on board. But I better not see hide nor hair of him until we drop him off at the next safe port!"
"I doubt he's currently able to do much anyway".
Jakes stared at the limp form for another minute, all sorts of unpleasant memories being drawn to the forefront of his mind, all of his past replaying on a loop thanks to this- this- this bastard!
… This abused bastard.
This boy.
He ran a heavy hand over his face.
"Fuck".
DeBryn smirked. "That just about sums it up, yes".
Walking back up to the main deck, Jakes tried to bury his anger with no success.
He wasn't exactly known for being kind, but he was always just. Unfortunately for that boy's abusers, however, his justness wasn't going to end well for them. It felt like he was slowly burning from the inside out, an itch thrumming just below the surface that wouldn't quit, an itch that he knew wouldn't subside until he could taste their fear on his tongue and feel their blood on his skin.
He headed straight for Strange and gave a jerk of his head towards the stairs. The man took one long look at him, recognized his barely constrained fury, and was wise to immediately do as told.
Taking a deep breath, Jakes turned to survey the crowd in front of him.
The sailors he could immediately rule out, as well as the servants to the rich. The middle class wouldn't have been given a room like that, which only left the high and mighty nobility, all grouped together in the middle of the deck.
He slowly strolled over, watching them all shy away from the predator with the loping gait, just aching to sink his teeth in. His right hand was clenched in a fist at his side, the left equally tight, wrapped around the hilt of his cutlass, which he withdrew silently and casually swung back and forth as he walked.
If possible, the tension amongst the lords and ladies increased.
"There are very few kinds of people on this earth whom I hate" he began suddenly, "Mindless murderers, for one. Rapists, the Royal Navy, tax collectors... but there is one particular type of monster that I despise even more".
He came to a stop in front of them and they all tried to crawl away but were quickly stopped by his crew.
"Child abusers".
Jakes began pacing back and forth in front of the crying crowd.
"And one of you, or, far more likely, two, have been found guilty... What shall we do about that, hm?" he asked, "I don't enjoy avoidable killing, and I was perfectly happy in letting you all go once we took what we needed. Now, however... Well, you never know, maybe the monsters will step forward and spare you all".
"The only monster here is you!"
He stilled, a slow satisfied grin spreading across his face as he turned to face the woman who had spoken.
She had a round face, suspicious eyes, and a sour mouth.
Guilty.
"Perhaps" he allowed, "But it takes a special kind of wickedness to hurt a child".
"He's not a child!" she snapped, "He's an abomination! A- A devil spawn!"
Oh, and weren't those words familiar?
Jakes studied her closely, taking in the coiffed hair, the fancy dress, and the gold band around her ring finger. He was right, then. There were two of them.
"Where is your husband?"
"What?"
"Your husband" he repeated impatiently, "Where is he?"
The rest of the nobility astutely avoided his gaze, and he sighed.
"Perhaps a little motivation, then".
With one fluid movement, he drew the end of his cutlass against her throat and-
"No!"
Jakes smirked and turned to the white-haired man who'd half gotten to his feet.
"How gracious of you to join us, sir" he sneered, "Tell me, do you feel justified in what you did?"
He swallowed thickly, nervous and sweating, but answered strongly.
"That freak deserved everything he got!"
Perfect.
"Stand up. Both of you".
One flash of the blade had them scrambling to comply.
"Walk with me".
Heading for the side of the ship, he deftly undid some of the rigging holding the sails in place and weighted the rope in his hands. It felt strong enough, but even if it did snap... Oh well. He wouldn't lose much sleep over it.
"Are- Are you going to- to throw us over?" the woman asked fearfully, clutching her husband's arm tightly.
"No" he answered honestly.
They both sighed in relief.
He gave a bland smile. "But I'm going to make you wish that I had".
Jakes gestured for the man to step forward, which he reluctantly did. He tied one end of the rope around the man's wrists, tight enough to cut off circulation, and then carried the other end to the opposite side of the ship, looping it around the bow spirit before tying it onto the railing. Turning back to the man, he dragged him to the very edge of the deck, pulling the rope taut.
"Get up on the railing".
He gave him a fearful yet bewildered look. Jakes pointed his cutlass at the woman's neck.
"Stand on the railing, now!"
The other passengers looked on, confused, but both the sailors and his own crew shifted uneasily, knowing exactly what was about to happen. The man awkwardly climbed up, balancing precariously with his hands tied, facing the sea. Jakes leaned in close, despite the sudden height difference.
"If I were you?" he whispered, "I'd take a deep breath".
He kicked him overboard.
The woman immediately screamed and rushed for the railing, crying and shouting as her husband disappeared beneath the waves. Jakes smirked, satisfied, and took a step back.
"Come along, my lady".
He half-guided, half-dragged her across the deck to the opposite railing where the rope remained tied, the other end vanishing beneath the waves, still tied to the man now being dragged below the ship, underneath the haul, and over and up the other side.
Keelhauling wasn't a punishment often doled out, and not one that Jakes had ever done himself before, though he'd seen many unfortunate souls who'd suffered from the after-effects of it over the years. The victim was weighted down and hauled across the ship's side, which was littered with barnacles and shells, sharp enough to slice through clothing and leave scorching marks across every inch of skin. If they weren't killed from drowning, they'd likely die from their subsequent wounds, and those who survived both usually lost a limb or two as a result.
It was the very least the man deserved.
Jakes yawned, the beast beneath his skin finally sated.
"Time?"
One of his men answered.
"One minute, Sarge".
He reached for the rope.
"Good enough".
Untying it, he immediately felt the weight of the man tied to its other end, and he dug in his heels to keep himself upright. The woman would very likely be unable to carry the load, but... well. She should have thought of that before hurting the boy, really.
He held the rope out to her, annoyed by her unnecessary sobbing and hunched over frame.
"Take it".
She stared at him with bloodshot eyes.
"I- What? Take- Take it? I- I don't- I can't!"
He rolled his eyes, tugged her closer, and shoved the rope into her hands. She was immediately jerked forward by the weight, but he was prepared for it and grabbed her around the waist to yank her back.
"Either you pull that rope" he said quietly, "Or your husband drowns. Do you understand?"
She quickly nodded, arms straining from the weight as he let her go, tears streaming down her face, hair askew, and dress torn.
It was the least she deserved, too.
Stepping back, he turned to face the terrified group, knowing that the horror stories attached to his name didn't even come close to what he was doing now. Rather unsurprisingly, that didn't bother him too much.
"Fancy" he called, waving the young man over.
"Sarge?"
"Did we get all we need?"
He grinned. "More than".
"Good. Start packing things up, I want us gone in the next half hour" he ordered, "Strange is back on board with the doctor, so you don't need to account for them".
"Captain". He nodded, turning to go.
Jakes glanced over at the woman, who was now collapsed on the deck, straining against the railing and wailing loudly as her hands bled from the rope.
"One more thing".
Fancy looked back at him; eyebrows raised. He nodded at the pitiful excuse for a human.
"Help a lady out, will you?"
He didn't wait for them to haul the man's body back on board and instead went below deck to collect the valuables he'd left in their cabin earlier. The room was empty, the boy now on board his own ship, and although Jakes was far from a bleeding heart and really didn't want to deal with the hassle of it all, he found that he couldn't regret his decision to take him with them.
Trust DeBryn to set him straight.
Shaking his head, he gathered up the bundle of jewels and clothes, spent a second too long staring at the blood-stained floor where the boy had once lain and then returned to the main deck. As slim as Fancy was, he was also one of the strongest in his crew, and in the few minutes that Jakes had left, he'd managed to pull the man back on board.
He was somewhat disappointed to find him still alive.
Slowly walking over, he took in the ripped clothes, the deep wounds, and the watery blood dripping off his face, chest, legs, everywhere. The man was coughing, choking up the sea, and his wife was collapsed next to him, still crying and still bleeding where the rope had burned through her hands and arms, tearing skin and sinew and muscle and leaving nothing but pain in its wake.
Jakes was finally at peace.
The itch beneath the surface had been scratched, the anger he'd felt since finding the boy was gone, and the dark restlessness he'd felt for what seemed like forever had finally dispersed.
He handed the bundle of valuables to Fancy and told him to rejoin the others on The Cowley. It had been a job well done. They had clothes, jewels, food, and water; more than enough to last the next few weeks. They'd left just enough behind for the passengers to make it to port, too, if they rationed, but based on the rich fools on board, they'd never rationed anything a day in their life.
It was about time that they learned.
The woman looked up at him from behind furious teary eyes.
"What? What do you want? What else could you possibly do?!"
"Kill you" he replied evenly, "But that would be far too kind".
"I'll kill him!" she howled, "The next time I see that- that freak, I'll kill him!"
"You're welcome to try" he said, somewhat amused, "If you can find him".
"You took him?"
"Probably a bad decision, I know, but it can't be any worse than leaving him here".
Jakes ran a dispassionate gaze over the unconscious and blood-stained man and then turned back to the woman's just as bloody hands.
In more sense than one.
"If you ever do find him again" he suddenly began, "If you ever lay so much as one finger on his head... then I will kill you, and I won't make it quick".
Turning for his ship, Jakes was pleased to find the rest of his crew on board and waiting to cast off.
"I'll still kill him!" the woman screamed after him, "I don't care who you are or what you've done, I swear to god I'll kill him, even if it's the last thing I do!"
Which it would be. He thought he'd covered that bit pretty well... Jakes shook his head, returned on board, and cut the line tying their ships with a quick flash of his blade.
Christ, he needed a cigarette.