The Pirate King

by J. P. Sheen

  Not what you expected, eh, boy? Well, now what will you do?

  Much to his surprise, Eselder smiled.

  “You’re not…are you?” he asked anxiously, searching Blake’s face. The pirate saw his reputation crumbling before the boy’s eyes…as well as a chance to recover it.

  “Are you?” Eselder repeated, more apprehensively.

  “Heavens, boy, no!” exclaimed Blake, flailing his arms, “Look at you! No wonder you didn’t make any friends at Kingston! Don’t even know how to take a joke…I’m just saying, I can get us off this ship. Leave Kurzon to me.”

  Eselder’s face lit with obvious relief, but that didn’t make Blake feel any better. It was a lie. He had bought back Eselder’s favor with a lie. What would the boy think of him if he ever learned the truth? He frowned nastily. Perhaps he ought to reconsider bringing Eselder along. After all, once he escaped the Swift, he was headed for the Pirate’s Nest…and what would he do with the boy then?

  Blake blinked, startled. He hadn’t thought that through when he’d made his rash promise on the mast top. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t been thinking at all…

  Blake’s spirits plummeted like lead. He’d made a terrible mistake.

  He pushed himself off the bowsprit and met Eselder’s relieved gaze. Something hot and slimy started writhing in his gut. Pasting on a fake grin, he shot Eselder a snarky remark about toilets and then hurried far away from the foc’sle and the Swift’s scrupulous cabin boy…

  …and those solemn brown eyes that looked so alarmingly familiar.

  16

  The Crown Heir’s Secret

  Eselder was left to the mercy of his imagination.

  Every gruesome tale he had ever heard about pirates flooded his memory, only this time every villain had Blake Ransom’s face. He tried to shake off his worry, but the stories wouldn’t let him. He had his father to thank for that. After learning about Eselder’s (silly) interest in the seafaring life, King Jaimes had made a point to gripe often about the havoc pirate ships wrecked on the high seas by ransacking merchant ships and ruining the businesses of respectable Eliothan citizens. Then, when that had failed to incite Eselder’s sympathy, he had told stories Eselder didn’t want to hear, about brutal massacres at sea. Eselder hadn’t known King Jaimes had so many gory stories stocked up in his head.

  He compared those tales with what he knew of Blake Ransom. True, Eselder had once called him an evil brigand, but he didn’t see Blake that way, not anymore. Now he saw only a pair of reckless eyes and a fearless grin that hinted at adventure and freedom. Eselder could not reconcile his father’s stories with the man he knew.

  The port head cleaned, Eselder moved over to starboard. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t detect the new presence on the foc’sle until it was too late.

  “Didn’t learn your lesson last time, did you, boy?”

  Thug Kurzon’s hiss was so close that his breath tickled Eselder’s ear. The bo’sun twisted him around and grabbed his throat, squeezing it hard. Eselder tugged frantically at the bosun’s muscular hands. He couldn’t breathe!

  “I told you to keep away from him!”

  Kurzon’s dreadlocks slithered around his malevolent face like pale serpents. The bosun looked all too alive and well.

  “Now you’re gonna learn what happens to troublemakers! But don’t worry; you’ll have company in Cutlass’s lair! I’ll be sending your friend after you!”

  Blake! Eselder tried to shout. Blake had just left! He couldn’t be far away!

  “No one’ll look for you. They know not to cross me,” snarled Kurzon, “They won’t say a word…and neither will you!”

  The bosun dragged his victim toward the bowsprit, and Eselder realized that Kurzon intended to throw him overboard. He fought hard, but all Kurzon had to do to subdue him was press down on his windpipe. Eselder choked in agony, and his vision went hazy. He was forced over to the railings until his upper body was all but dangling over the side. He managed a squeak, and Kurzon snarled “Shut up!” and shoved his face down. The water didn’t look so beautiful now.

  “Get away from him!”

  The roar sent chills down Eselder’s spine. A second later, Kurzon’s hand was ripped off his throat. Eselder fell to the deck, rasping, and looked up with watering eyes.

  Blake Ransom was dragging Thug Kurzon away from Eselder by his dreadlocks. Suddenly, Kurzon twisted out of his grasp and lashed out. Blake gasped and doubled over, and Thug Kurzon delivered him another vicious blow. Blake stumbled forward and grabbed the bo’sun’s dreadlocks. Yanking down, he socked Kurzon hard in the throat. Thug Kurzon’s eyes bulged in obvious agony. Blake’s knee flew up and dug deep into his stomach. Kurzon choked, Blake shoved him backward, and the bo’sun hit the deck.

  Blake Ransom stood tall over the crumpled, wheezing figure. He looked nothing like the man who had laughed in the sea storm’s face and encouraged a cowardly boy to face his fears. His eyes overflowed with hatred, and his scowl carved sharp, ugly lines into his cheeks.

  What would he do next?

  Eselder never found out, because Thug Kurzon fumbled for the whistle around his neck and blew it hard. The whistle’s shrill blasts filled the air. Blake froze, and Eselder watched his entire body quake with an energy born from rage.

  Within moments, a band of marines filed down into the foc’sle and surrounded the little group. They grabbed Blake and held him fast as Thug Kurzon rose unmolested. The bosun wiped at the blood streaming from his nose and glared at Blake with glittering eyes.

  Lieutenant O’Shea walked down the steps. The young officer surveyed the scene with a deadpan face. Eselder opened his mouth to defend Blake Ransom, but at the sight of the lieutenant, his rescuer went completely berserk.

  “Blue devil! Go rot in the slaughterhouse! I know your secret! I’ve been there! I’ve been there, you hear me?”

  Having annihilated any hope of Lieutenant O’Shea hearing them out, Blake was hauled away by four strong marines. The last glimpse Eselder had of him was of the seaman thrashing like a lunatic, roaring curses at Thug Kurzon, Lieutenant O’Shea, the Royal Navy, and King Jaimes the Fourth alike. Eselder watched him go, shaking. He could easily believe that the man was a pirate.

  Lieutenant O’Shea interrupted his horrified reverie. “And you, boy. Back to work with you.”

  Eselder tried to explain what had happened, but the lieutenant interrupted him with a curt, “Another word and you’ll join your crewmate in the brig.”

  Thug Kurzon grinned at Eselder behind Lieutenant O’Shea’s back.

  “Please listen to me; you’ve got the wrong man!” Eselder shouted. The lieutenant’s face flashed with uncertainty. Eselder’s hopes skyrocketed.

  “That’s your last warning, boy,” said Lieutenant O’Shea coolly, “If any injustice has been done, the officers will sort it out.”

  He left the foc’sle, followed by a smirking Thug Kurzon. It was only after Lieutenant O’Shea was gone that Eselder remembered. He had been given a perfect opportunity to tell O’Shea who he was…and had completely wasted it!

  Eselder viciously kicked his bucket and began pacing the foc’sle, his blood pulsing with every vehement beat of his heart. Why, why, why was he so hopeless?

  Thug Kurzon had gotten his revenge. In the end, Eselder had only been the bait. The villain had been after Blake Ransom all along…and Eselder had failed to do even what little he could to save his friend.

  He stopped pacing and hung his head.

  It was over. They’d never escape now. Fearless as he was, Blake couldn’t win this fight, and Eselder could see no way off the HMS Swift…

  At least, he thought with a shiver, not alive.

  Spring was here!

  Blake threw himself into the sea, giddy with joy. His landlocked life was over!

  That evening, Jaimes explained that he had received a summons to the governor’s mansion. Blake wondered what the governor could possibly want with a shopkeeper’s apprentice. He j
oked, “Are you under arrest? Have you committed a horrendous crime?”

  Jaimes looked genuinely nervous.

  Blake grinned, bewildered. “You haven’t committed a horrendous crime…have you, Jaimes?”

  “No, of course not!” Jaimes replied indignantly. He hesitated and then turned away. Blake shrugged. His brother was strange.

  Unable to contain himself any longer, he said, “It’s springtime, Jaimes.”

  “I know,” Jaimes replied. He didn’t exactly leap for joy, but then, Blake hadn’t expected him to.

  “You asked me to wait until spring,” he reminded Jaimes, “Well, I did. But it’s time for me to go.”

  “Time for you to go!” Jaimes repeated scornfully. Blake stared at his back. “You and your fantasies! I’m getting so tired of it! Sick of it, in fact, sick of you pretending to have a special bond with the sea! It’s so childish, Blake!”

  Blake was unprepared for that cruel speech. Recovering quickly, he snapped back, “Then you’ll be glad I’m going away! I don’t care what you think! I think I’m special? You’re the one who always acts like you’re smarter than everyone else! Believe me, I know, I’ve had to listen to you complain all the time!”

  “Anyone would complain if they had to hear you go on about how your blood ‘burns for the sea’!”

  “Oh, everyone is so stupid, so common, so beneath me!” Blake cried, throwing a hand to his forehead, “If only I ruled Elioth, if only I ruled the whole bloody world, for I alone have the brains to set things right!”

  “Shut up, Blake!” Jaimes snarled.

  “You shut up!” Blake snarled back. He was ready to fight with more than words, but Jaimes wouldn’t condescend to that. They glared daggers at each other, and Blake hated that he still had to tilt his head to look Jaimes in the eye.

  They didn’t make up that evening or the following morning. Blake left the Carp and Mackerel before Jaimes woke up, and it was only upon his return that he remembered Jaimes’s meeting with the governor. He cast a disgusted look at the newspaper lying open on the table.

  “And he thinks I’m the one with the bloated head! I hate Jaimes; he’s got shit for brains.”

  Blake continued to stew until Jaimes bounced through the door wearing his “special occasion” coat and a huge grin plastered on his stupid face. Eyeing Jaimes suspiciously, Blake backed up behind the table. His instincts told him to run…or was it his sea longing? But why should he run? It was only his dumbsquat of a brother… Jaimes was probably just happy because the governor had called him a “fine young man.”

  “Blake, I have good news!”

  Jaimes’ eyes sparkled happily, though he looked apprehensive. Apparently, he had forgotten they were fighting. Well, Blake hadn’t.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jaimes demanded.

  “I’m still angry,” Blake said.

  “Well, listen anyway.”

  Blake’s scowl thickened.

  “I went to the governor’s—”

  “I already knew that.”

  “Shut up, Blake. I went to the governor’s, and it was as I thought. Master Simmons met with the Earl of Welton—”

  “So what?”

  “Who delivered my letter to the King—”

  “What letter?”

  “The Head of Parliament came to investigate the claim himself—”

  “What claim?”

  “King George has sent for me—”

  “Who?”

  “The King,” Jaimes repeated. He spoke feverishly, fiddling with his pocket watch. “Mother wrote him a letter before…before she died. She gave it to me aboard that Navy boat—”

  “Ship of the line.”

  “Yes, yes, that. It explains everything about her family’s…”

  Jaimes looked nervous.

  “Claim to the throne.”

  Blake’s mouth dropped open. “You never told me anything about this!”

  “I didn’t want to…yet,” Jaimes added quickly.

  “Why not?” Blake’s cheeks went hot. The sense of danger was growing.

  “Things just kept happening, Blake!” Jaimes cried, waving an agitated hand, “I knew I had to act! The King is ill. He has no sons, no children at all! Another branch of the royal family is next in line to the throne. But if someone more closely related to the King came along…”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed, and Jaimes rushed on.

  “If our claim proves true…”

  “Our claim?”

  Throttling his pocket watch, Jaimes insisted, “We have lots of evidence, Blake! Mother’s ring with the royal insignia…her letter, of course, was a very convincing piece of evidence…”

  “What letter?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you see, Blake?”

  “No.”

  “I’m the son of the King’s eldest daughter!”

  The giddy shout fairly burst out of Jaimes.

  “And well, I…I am next in line for the throne!”

  Jaimes was shaking, unable to contain his elation.

  “There’s more…Blake, our days in this crummy town are over! If the King believes me…we’ll be living at court, in a palace too grand for the imagination! We are royalty, Blake!”

  Blake stared at his beaming brother. He wanted to cry, like a snot-nosed little child.

  “I am already royalty,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to go to Kingston!”

  Blake’s panic finally burst out of him. “You go, Jaimes! Go and rule Elioth! I know it’s what you want! Just leave me here!”

  “I can’t do that!” Jaimes protested, looking aghast, “I promised Mother I would look after you!”

  “You’ll have a whole nation to look after! Let the sea look after me!”

  Blake knew he needed to run, to flee! But Jaimes stood between him and the door.

  “Remember on Moanamiri!” he pleaded, “You promised you wouldn’t take me away from the sea! You gave your word, Jaimes!”

  Jaimes’s expression flashed with guilt, and Blake knew he’d struck a nerve. His brother looked down at his pocket watch, frowning as he clicked it open and shut. Then he shoved it into his coat pocket and snapped in a tone Blake had never heard before, “I spent seventeen years trapped under our father’s roof, and three more playing apprentice to a store clerk’s son!”

  Jaimes drew himself up. His brown eyes were cold and hard behind his spectacles, and his face seemed chiseled in stone. He didn’t look a thing like the brother Blake knew.

  “I am going to Kingston, Blake, and you are coming as well!” he declared with terrible finality.

  That was when Blake remembered what rage felt like. It was white-hot and seared the mind and heart. He remembered the pistol hidden under his pillow and stepped backward.

  “You lied!” he shouted, his voice cracking, “You knew what you were doing, all winter long! I did what you wanted, and you lied to make me stay! But I won’t go!”

  He darted for the cot, found the pistol, and aimed it at Jaimes. His brother froze. So did Blake. In that moment, he knew that he could never hurt Jaimes. He threw the pistol bitterly to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

  “Liar!” he snarled.

  “Blake…” Jaimes moved toward him, and Blake saw his opportunity. Quick as a seabird taking flight, he dodged Jaimes and bolted down the stairs, fleeing the boarding house.

  To his horror, there was a carriage and a host of redcoats already outside, waiting to spirit him off to Kingston. Passersby lingered, staring curiously at the grand entourage, but Blake ran in the direction that would take him quickest to the sea. He felt that he was trying to outrun death itself. That’s what Kingston would do to him! It would kill him, or at least the part of him that could still hear a woman’s whisper, telling him that he was her dear son, her very own. Only the sea could wash his guilt and his pain away.

  “Catch him! Please, that’s my brother!”

  A wall of crimson
blocked his path, and Blake shrank back. He was trapped. Why had he thrown away his pistol? Blake straightened up. All he could do now was make sure he didn’t shame the name of Ransom. He glared at the redcoats, letting them know that Blake Ransom, the future Black King, was their enemy.

  The soldiers seized him. Blake felt their hands on his skin and panicked.

  “Get away from me! Don’t touch me! I said, don’t touch me!”

  It was a mortifying scene. With ferocious effort, the redcoats hauled the clawing, screaming boy into the carriage while his brother stood by and stared with helpless confusion.

  Five minutes later, Blake sat inside the rattling carriage next to the Head of Parliament, rigid as a plank, his eyes fixed straight ahead. He felt Jaimes’s concerned gaze on him as the carriage clattered along.

  His worst fear had been realized. Jaimes was tearing him from the sea. He was leaving his soul by the shores of Yale. Nobody could be trusted.

  What had he done to deserve this?

  He wanted to scream that at Jaimes…and at a Lady clad in ocean-blue. Deep down, though, he already knew the answer, so he just wrapped his arms across his chest and shivered. Jaimes noticed and offered him his coat, but Blake squeezed his eyes shut and bent over until his head was nearly in his lap.

  “I w-want to s-stay in Yaletown…”

  The jangling of rivets and creaking of wheels drowned out his whisper. He violently rubbed the places where the redcoats had grabbed him, listening desperately to the ocean as they rode away. It was warning him. He was in grave danger. He was a fish out of water, drifting away from the sole remedy to his misery. He wouldn’t survive apart from the sea!

  Blake panicked and leapt for the carriage door. It was locked. In a blind shock, he tugged wildly at the door handle.

  “That is enough! Sit down!”

  Jaimes harshly pushed him back onto the velvet bench. His concerned air had evaporated, and when Blake recovered from his surprise, he nearly sprang at Jaimes next. By some miracle, he restrained himself.