Page 8 of Found at Sea
Pirates loved fear, and I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of showing them mine. They didn’t come to Helmfirth often, and it was the first time I’d ever seen one with my own eyes. The stories, though? Yes, I’d heard many a tales about the rogues of the sea.
“You all right?” Ned asked as I went behind the bar.
I nodded, too shaken to talk.
“Just do your job and they won’t give ya any trouble,” he said in an uncertain tone. And that, of course,certainlyhelped me feel more at ease. “They seem to just be ‘ere to drink. If they intended on thieving or violence, they would’ve done so by now.”
Carrying their mugs of mead, I approached their table once more and placed the drinks down. I was about to walk away when one of them grabbed my arm and yanked me back.
Fighting a yelp, I met him face to face.
“Where ya off to so fast, lad?” he asked, flashing a mouth full of yellowing teeth. His hair was the shade of wet straw, and he smelled vile. His grip tightened.
Bile rose in my throat.
“Keep your hands to yourself or I’ll chop ‘em off,” the captain growled in a voice so menacing that it caused the other pirate to instantly release my arm. He moved his mismatched eyes to me. “Run off, boy. When we need more drink, I’ll call you over.”
I did as he said; glad to have a reason to leave.
Through my fear of the captain, I was also intrigued by him. And at my distance, I was able to study him further.
He sat back in the chair, quiet, as the other men spoke. Yet, although he stayed silent, he continued to have an air of dominance to him. He didn’t have to speak for everyone at the table to know he was in charge. The way the other pirates behaved around him told me they knew not to get on his bad side.
Even the man with the longer hair who freely spoke to the captain still seemed cautious.
“About earlier,” Ned said, appearing at my side. He took the rag he kept slung over his shoulder and dried the mug in his hands. “I hope there’re no hard feelings, Fletch. You’re welcome to still stay ‘ere. Maybe find a place in the back of this place to sleep. I’m not gonna kick ya out with nowhere to go, but I need the coin. Can’t guarantee ya any payment for a while either.”
“I understand,” I said.
The situation was not ideal, but I couldn’t hold it against him. He was a business man, and even though he’d taken me in and treated me well for the past few years, I had to remember that I actually wasn’t his son. He owed me nothing.
“They’re always needin’ fit young lads to work the fields for the crops,” Ned added, pulling me from my thoughts. “Tiring work, but the pay is better than zilch.”
“Who will help out in the tavern?” I asked, not favoring the idea of doing that kind of hard labor. Not that I was afraid of hard work—I’d had my fair share of it and believed it helped build character in a man—but I wasn’t suited to that kind of life.
My dreams went far beyond the fields of Helmfirth. They went to the sea and farther beyond it.
“I got by for years on my own. I can do it again. You’ll be missed around ‘ere, but ya gotta start building your own life. Find a beautiful lass and settle down. Start a family.”
A family. Such a thing wasn’t meant for me. I was sure of it.
“Boy!” a man yelled, holding up his mug.
He’d been there all night, and I’d poured him so many drinks I’d lost count. He wasn’t a regular customer at the tavern, but he’d been in a few times, behaving unruly each and every one of those times too.
I walked over with the pitcher and was about to pour him some more ale, when he grabbed my arm so tight I cried out.
“Took your sweet time gettin’ o’er here, didn’t ya?” he slurred. “A good beatin’ would do ya good.”
I was used to the harsh treatment, but I didn’t cower when it happened.
Keeping a calm head, I faced him. “Release me. I’ll refill your mug and be on my way.”
“No, you’ll fill my mug and then suck my prick like the whore ya are,” he said, swaying a little with intoxication. “I saw ya come out of the brothel, boy. A lad as pretty as you must go for a pretty shilling.”
I elbowed him in the face and jerked from his hold. He grunted and snapped his head back to me. Blood trickled from his bottom lip and he pinned me with a murderous stare.
“You’ll pay for that one, rat,” he snarled.
