Paid to the Pirate by Una Rohr

Chapter 34

Charlotte, the past

For weeks, I barely ate or drank. Counting my ribs pleased me. Maybe I’d shrink so much, I’d disappear. If I grew too weak to work, I thought Captain Colt would abandon me to die at the nearest desolate island. I was not so lucky.

Colt looked at me strangely, like I was a puzzle to solve.

“Eat, boy,” he ordered one evening, shoving a plate of biscuits under my lowered head. “You can eat on your own or I can force it down your throat.”

“I’ll throw it back up,” I spat, snarling.

“Do it and I’ll make you lick it up,” he said, calmly. “I’m sure the crew would like to watch that, seeing as how you’re not pulling even your own meager weight around here.”

Confusion pierced through my anger. Though I didn’t doubt Colt’s words, his concern puzzled me. Why did he care if I ate? Why did he insist on bringing me on their voyages though I did almost nothing to contribute throughout? Why defend me against the crew when they -- rightfully -- pointed it out?

I studied the man who killed my father.

He was very tall, but not burly. His hair was neatly groomed, his fingernails clean, and his face clean-shaven. His clothing was slightly rumpled and smelled of salt and sweat, but none of it was tattered or torn. Dark eyes gazed at me from a finely chiseled face. It wasn’t a soft, gentleman’s face, but rather a face with a savage, ancient sort of nobility. His eyes were hooded, haughty, and so dark and cold they were like the bottom of a black pond or the ocean itself. His movements were too measured to speak of an upbringing other than one of refinement at some point.

A pirate shouldn’t look like that.

We stared at one another in a battle of wills I was sure to lose. With the crew looking on, Colt couldn’t afford any disobedience to a command. Not that I’d have fared much better in private.

Capitulating, I brought the bread to my mouth and chewed. It tasted like nothing.

Like my future. Like all that was left for me now.

Nothing.

#

That night I stood alone on the stern deck, hidden from the watchman’s view as best as possible. The moon glistened off the soft night waves, beckoning. I wanted to dissolve into that bubbling sea foam or those glistening beams of moonlight. My hands clutched the railing. I placed one foot on a wooden beam, then another, stepping up, closer to my destiny.

Death.

Holding onto the ropes for balance, I climbed barefoot onto the rail. I let my head fall back, taking one last deep breath of air.

Father, I’m coming, I thought.

My muscles tensed, ready to leap --

-- a hand roughly grabbed my arm and yanked me off the railing, making my stomach flip.

Shaken, the blood drained from my face as I met Colt’s fierce black eyes staring down at me.

“If you ever try that again, I’ll beat your arse so hard you won’t be able to walk,” he swore. “Do you hear me?” Colt shook me with his last words. I could only nod frantically.

“Say it!”

“I - I hear you,” I stammered.

“You want death? Have we treated you so poorly on this ship that you seek to end your life?”

The fire in my breast rekindled and I shouted, “No, captain, it’s what you did before you kidnapped me onto this ship! Or did his life mean so little to you that you’ve forgotten?”

Colt’s eyes narrowed. “He was an inadequate father. He could barely provide for his only son. We did you a favor.”

“That was for God to decide, not you!”

He scoffed. Colt seemed to disdain religion of any kind. “Maybe God sent us to you.”

I didn’t know how to argue that, so I cried, “I hate you so much! One day I’ll have my vengeance, do you hear me? I will avenge my father.”

Colt loosened his grip on my arm. “I look forward to it,” he mocked. “But how, boy, do you intend to avenge your father if you’re dead?” Colt tipped his head in the direction of the ocean. He raised his eyebrows once. Then he spun on his heel and left me shouting curses at his back.

I hated that he was right. I couldn’t avenge father from the grave.

I’ll be patient, I vowed to Colt’s back. I’ll remain quiet and watch for an opportunity.Then one day… I’ll make you sorry.

#

I hated Colt most of all, and Robert, or Redhands, as they called him, made me very nervous. Yet amongst the crew, another man stood out as more fearsome than all the rest. And he didn’t even lift a finger to do it.

Maurice was older than Colt by a good twenty years, and he seemed to function as a sort of father or authority figure to both Colt and Robert, and perhaps the entire crew. Lean, quiet, and watchful, Maurice often stood back, observing Colt and Robert, whom I noted often looked to him for a sort of permission to proceed in an endeavor.

I learned there was some history between the three men, Maurice having brought Colt and Robert into piracy years before and acting as a sort of mentor. At some point, Maurice had supported Colt’s rise to captain and it wasn’t hard to see why. Colt was quick-witted, clever, and possessed a restraint Robert lacked. But Robert’s taste for violence was the one area in which he beat Colt and matched Maurice. It was as if Maurice would like to have forged the perfect boy to mentor, could he merge the two men. Whenever the crew raided, Colt’s careful planning enabled the win, making Maurice crook a small smile. But Robert’s bloodlust -- often leading to slaughtering a choice few crewmates or townsfolk who’d peacefully surrendered -- brought a gleam to Maurice’s eye.

Captain Colt always looked displeased about the breach of honor but said nothing. The killings earned him more of a reputation for cruelty than he would have gained if he’d murdered a crew en masse. The arbitrary selection of those put to the sword had a distinct malice for its casual unpredictability.

Once, I’d heard Colt argue with Maurice about it.

“It’s smarter this way and you should be smart enough to see it,” Maurice said. “Never draw blood and the merchants won’t fear you enough to surrender. Draw it too often and they’ll put up a fight every time, rather than lose their lives.”

I could hear the self-satisfaction in Maurice’s voice as he concluded, “But never knowing, giving them a dose of hope and fear together, and they’ll bend to your will. Give a man that perfect mixture and you’ve got a man you can control.”

My heart pounded as, hidden in the shadows, I listened to them talk.

I had hope -- the hope to kill Colt and all his men to avenge my father. But other than the fear of failure, I had no fear.

Liar, said a voice in my head. You don’t want to die. Not any longer.

Scurrying below deck, I pondered that voice. Months had passed on the ship and I’d learned to work as a part of the crew, albeit, not as well. I was smart and quick, but never as strong as they desired or expected, and only I knew the reason why.

I was nearly down the stairs when I heard the captain.

“Stop,” he said. I turned to see him standing at the top of the stairs. “You think I didn’t know you were eavesdropping?”

My stomach twisted. Would he punish me? I must have paled because Colt laughed.

“If I whipped every man for listening in on conversations not his own, I’d have a shipful of bloody backs,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.

Colt stalked down the stairs and I froze, unsure what to say or do.

“You’ve been eating,” he remarked, looking me up and down.

I blinked. So?

“You’re settling in. Still want to kill me?” he asked.

“More than ever,” I swore.

“He drew first,” Colt said, for the hundredth time.

“He was protecting me!” I shouted, so angry I forgot to deepen my voice as I usually did. Luckily, Colt didn’t notice.

“That’s my job now,” he said, almost sneering at the declaration, as if he resented it. “I’ll do a better one than he did.”

“On a pirate ship?” I asked, disbelieving. “If you care so much for my well-being, dump me off at the nearest port and I’ll be on my way.”

Colt laughed. “You’d get yourself killed in a day. And if you didn’t, you’d just be waiting for the chance to kill me. Maybe you’d even succeed someday. Better to keep you here, keep you close.”

The pronunciation brought angry tears to my eyes. The idea that I might never escape Colt made my heart sink. Rather than allow him to see it, I turned on my heel to scurry away.

“There’s something else I’ve been doing in port,” Colt called after me. I stopped, curious at his tone. Almost… kind.

“I’ve been asking around the other crews,” he said. “We’ll find out who killed your mother, Charlie. It’s my… gift to you.”

At the mention of my mother, tears pooled in my eyes.

“You mean it’s your attempt at recompense for my father’s life,” I whispered. “And a pitiful one at that.”

“Call it what you like. I vow to find out who killed her.”

I shook my head and continued down the hall, even though I burned to know the truth about my mother.

I hated that Colt might be able to access this knowledge. Was it more hope? Was he instilling hope in me, in order to control me, as Maurice had said?

It didn’t matter. I had no way to escape the captain either way.