The Pirate King

by J. P. Sheen

  Blake looked at the water, frowning. Because it was true.

  “I don’t like what the boy had to say,” Thornhill went on anxiously, “He means it. He’s not afraid of you, Kurzon.”

  So, Eselder had given them a piece of his mind? Blake felt a surge of fiery pride. Ha! That was his cabin boy!

  Wait.

  Wasn’t Eselder Jaimes’s son? And wasn’t Blake abandoning him?

  “He will be,” growled Kurzon in reply, “You’re afraid of a squeaking mouse, Thornhill! You don’t really believe I’d let His Highness stay aboard ship after everything’s said and done, do you?”

  “You’d let him go free?” Thornhill sounded scandalized.

  Kurzon laughed.

  “You really are an idiot!” he jeered, “We’ll kill him, of course, after we claim the King’s ransom!”

  Blake’s blood ran cold.

  “Kill the…” Thornhill sounded horror-struck at Kurzon’s flagrant wickedness. “Isn’t that perhaps going a bit too—”

  “Oh, so killing the lad’s where you draw the line?” Kurzon jeered, “Just shut up and leave it to me. I’ll do it.”

  Seamen ran out the gangplank as Blake shot down the ladder and into the water. He dove underwater, but he didn’t swim for the fishing schooner. He was still escaping, of course…but he had some valuable goods to steal first. The King’s most prized possession, in fact.

  Blake smirked. After all, as Captain Thornhill had so astutely observed, he was a pirate.

  He headed for the man o’ war’s stern, his eyes bright and steely. If only somebody had been there for him on Moanamiri! If Jaimes could have saved him that night…. how differently things would have turned out…

  Blake shook himself and swam faster.

  Well, Jaimes hadn’t been there to save him. But Blake was here now.

  And he would save Jaimes’s son.

  19

  A Leap Of Faith

  “Blake? I know you’re up there!”

  High in his perch, Blake nestled back into the tangle of branches.

  “I can see you.”

  Blake scowled and yelled down, “Go away!”

  It was late afternoon. Tonight, he was to depart for Cribbshire Abbey. The very last thing he wanted to do was talk to Jaimes.

  Blake wrapped his arms around his knees. He wouldn’t climb down. He was wearing his last comfortable pair of breeches. They were stained and soiled, and had a big hole in them. If Jaimes saw them, he’d be disgusted. He’d take them away and then what would Blake do? Go crazy, that’s what.

  He wiped his nose. Had Jaimes forgotten so quickly all those years of scraping by in their leaky old attic, watching each other’s back, looking out for each other before all else? Stay with me, Jaimes had pleaded. And Blake had. Now Jaimes didn’t need him anymore, and was sending him far away. But he wouldn’t go.

  Blake’s eyes hardened. He wouldn’t be going to Cribbshire.

  “How could you, Blake?” Jaimes sounded accusing. “I just spoke with Lord Cribbshire about his son. I never in my life imagined you’d play the bully. It makes me sick!”

  Blake leaned against the tree trunk, feeling rather sick himself.

  “Are you trying to get back at me?” demanded Jaimes, “Is that your scheme?”

  Blake couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

  “I don’t have a scheme!” he shouted down, “I just want you to let me go my own way! I don’t belong here, and I won’t belong at your bloody Cribbshire either!”

  “You could, if you wanted to!” Jaimes shouted back at him, “You’re just a stubborn ass, that’s what!”

  Blake turned hot.

  “You hate me! You think I’m dirt!” he yelled, “You want me to pay for being alive, for being born!”

  “My, Blake, you guessed everything,” Jaimes responded sarcastically, “I’ve been found out.”

  Blood thudded in Blake’s ears. He longed to reveal what he had discovered in Jaimes’s wardrobe.

  “Well, I don’t expect you to understand,” Jaimes continued, “But unlike some people, I have a huge responsibility on my shoulders. I have to do what’s best for the nation. And for you.”

  Liar, liar! Blake blocked his ears.

  “You know, Blake, before I heard about you and Chauncey Cribbshire, I had second thoughts,” Jaimes went on angrily, “There isn’t anything disrespectable about a naval career. I could have agreed to that. Then you could have gone to sea like you wanted.”

  Blake unstopped his ears. Anything. He’d give anything to go to the sea. To rid himself of this fire in his breast that was eating him alive.

  His mouth was open before he realized what was happening. Here he was, desperate and in pain, and Jaimes, still the cleverer of them both, was using his desperation to manipulate him. He thought that the only way Blake would see the ocean again was if he permitted it. But Blake would prove him wrong.

  “Who gives a shit?” he cried. He felt like a little boy on the verge of a tantrum, wanting Jaimes, or anybody, to take the pain away. “I’d rather die than become one of those blue devils! They burned down my home! I’d shoot ‘em dead if I could!”

  “They did what they had to do! Those men were heroes!”

  “Heroes?” Blake’s voice cracked. “Damn, you’re ignorant, Jaimes! Go on, then, hand out more medals to those Navy rats!”

  “I won’t listen to this,” said Jaimes icily, “I’ll come and say goodbye in a few hours. I hope you’re finished packing! You must be if you can afford to waste time like this.”

  “Aye, that’s just like you, Jaimes!” Blake hollered, trying to stop him. Trying to make him stay. “Run away, just like on Moanamiri!”

  Jaimes didn’t reply, and for some reason, the silence scared Blake out of his mind. Abandoning all pretenses, he cried out, “Jaimes!”

  Scrambling down the oak tree, Blake searched frantically until he spotted Jaimes walking across the grounds toward Kingston Palace. For a moment, he wanted to run after Jaimes and confess everything. His brother, deep down, was a kind person. He would understand. And maybe, being so smart, he could even help Blake understand himself.

  Because he was all wrong inside. There, everything had turned to fire, and he couldn’t put it out, because he craved the fire like their father had craved drink. And there were other things, too…things he’d thought and felt about…about…

  Blake flushed. Just the other day, he’d spotted Jaimes and remembered Cribbshire Abbey. He’d been furious. Then, all of a sudden…a flood of longing, so great and so deep that he’d started to tremble. A wave of confusion. An aching, burning need for his brother’s touch.

  But this wasn’t the first time Blake had felt the desire to be touched by a young man. He couldn’t even recall Charles’s face anymore, but he couldn’t forget the bewildering way he’d felt toward the midshipman. And now he felt that way toward Jaimes. His own brother.

  Blake stared at Jaimes’s receding figure. His brother looked like a total stranger from behind, tall and dignified in his richly embroidered waistcoat and starched cravat. Jaimes had everything he had ever wanted now. By contrast, Blake felt loathsome in his smelly, soiled britches.

  How would the discussion go? He imagined Jaimes listening attentively, compassionately. He imagined the relief he’d feel at finally confessing the dark secrets that were devouring him alive. He imagined Jaimes promising to help, withdrawing Blake from Cribbshire Abbey.

  But Blake also envisaged another scenario…the look of revulsion on Jaimes’s face as Blake described his struggles, and then, when he got to the worst part, the undisguised horror. He imagined Jaimes stepping back, afraid to get too close to him, and shipping him off to Cribbshire as quickly as possible.

  Blake looked down at his toes. He knew he was a freak. But if Jaimes agreed, he’d never forgive him.

  He shook his head. He wouldn’t beg for Jaimes’s pity! He’d just disappear like a shadow. By tomorrow, he’d be gone from his brother’s life foreve
r. And Jaimes could finally be happy.

  That evening, as he waited for Jaimes to come and say goodbye, Blake did something he hadn’t done in a long time. Ignoring the trunks stacked by his door, he knelt by the window, gazed up at the stars, and called on the Lady in Blue. She was the one who had given him this excruciating longing, his sea breath. Would she not come and take him away as she had promised?

  Blake’s eyes were red and raw from sobbing. The Lady was his last hope.

  “If you won’t save me, Lady, I’ll save myself!” he threatened, “You promised you would return, but you broke your promise. If you don’t answer me tonight…I want nothing more to do with you!”

  Clouds drifted over the full moon, but Blake kept his eyes fixed on its dim outline. A part of him truly believed that the Lady would heed him and come.

  “Please!” he cried out, “Please…Mother!”

  But the Lady in Blue did not come.

  When Blake finally lost hope, such hatred for the Lady in Blue welled up inside of him that he spat at the moon. His spit struck the window.

  “Don’t come then, Lady!”

  Panting, Blake turned hateful eyes upon the moon. “I wish I’d met the real Lady in Blue that night instead of you! Bitch! I hate you and your gift! Gift! It’s not a gift! I hate you for it; I hate you!”

  Blake’s sobs subsided, and he realized that no one was listening except for the shadows on the wall. With a shudder, he gave up the fight and let them enter him. They filled him up to the brim, and they made him feel strong.

  “I’ll escape on the open road and find my way to the sea,” Blake whispered, “I’ll get back at you both someday, I swear it! I’ll hunt for the Black King’s Crown and become a Sea King!”

  No, he wouldn’t serve in the King’s Navy. He’d become the terror of the King’s Navy! It was the best revenge against Jaimes, and the Lady in Blue, that he could devise.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes,” Blake promised himself. He grinned. He couldn’t wait for Jaimes to send him away from Kingston Court! Somehow, some way, he’d find his way back to the sea…

  And nobody would be able to control him, ever again.

  Blake swam to the stern and resurfaced.

  He peered up at the captain’s cabin, high over his head. Hopefully, Eselder was still in there.

  There was no other option but to find out. Blake began climbing, very clumsily, up the Swift’s keel. By grabbing at grooves in the stern’s elaborate carvings, he managed to haul himself from deck to deck. Finally, he flipped onto the captain’s cabin’s balcony and lay there, squeezing his eyes and mouth shut until the searing pain in his back dulled. Then he skulked over to the windows and crouched beneath them. When he caught his breath, he slowly rose and peered inside. He felt a sharp pang.

  Eselder sat but a few feet away on the window bench, his head hung. He looked very small, all alone in Thornhill’s day cabin. Against his will, Blake felt his heart melting like a glob of butter in the sun. His stomach grumbled. He was so famished that it was getting hard to think straight.

  Suddenly, Eselder looked up. Had he heard someone? Blake ducked down, then cautiously came back up. He saw no one else in the cabin, but he felt another pang at the sight of Eselder’s red, swollen eyes. What had they done to the lad? If they’d hurt him…

  Blake shook himself, quite unnerved. Whatever happened to those angry thoughts in the brig? Was this not still Jaimes’s son?

  Blake quickly rapped on the window before he got even more sentimental. Like a dunce, Eselder’s head swiveled toward the cabin doors. Blake sighed and knocked again. This time, Eselder looked at the window. A gratified Blake watched his face morph from fear to confusion to astonishment to sheer joy. Grinning in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, Blake pointed at the window’s latch. Eselder’s brow furrowed. It took Jaimes’s boy awhile to process the incredibly simple command, but soon enough, Blake was climbing into the captain’s cabin.

  “You’re alive!”

  Blake was completely unprepared for that tearful cry, or the violent bombardment that awaited him. A brown-haired missile launched at him and flung out its arms with unprincely abandon.

  “My back, my back, my back!” Blake hissed, cringing in the window frame. Eselder froze, arms upraised. Then, to Blake’s great dismay, he seized his arm and tugged, nearly catapulting him inside.

  “I can’t believe it; you’re alive!” Eselder sang out as the pirate hissed, regained his balance, and clambered down.

  “Yes, um. There, there. Please shut up. They’ll hear you.”

  Blake awkwardly patted the boy’s head and struggled to free his arm without looking like he was struggling. Eselder seemed to sense his tension, for he sheepishly released him, still glowing. Trying to recover from this overwhelming reception, Blake glanced around the day cabin and spied the quill and inkwell. A mischievous grin spread across his face as a plan rapidly formulated in his mind. He was about to relay it when Eselder whispered, “They’re s-sending a r-ransom note to my f-father! Thornhill b-believes Kurzon, but I d-don’t. Before it’s all over, h-he’ll kill me!”

  “Aye, they tried killing me too; look how well they did their job,” Blake said with a grin. The terrified plea in Eselder’s eyes faded into relief.

  “Now tell me,” Blake growled, “Did Thornhill do anything to you? Did he…”

  Blake tasted sour at the back of his throat. He swallowed and went on fiercely, “Did he touch you?”

  “N-No,” Eselder stammered. Blake gave him his best stern and fatherly look.

  “Well, once, on the shoulder,” Eselder amended, “But it was mostly Kurzon…”

  He rubbed his throat and shivered. A wave of overwhelming relief crashed over Blake. He could suddenly breathe again.

  “Thank god,” he muttered, rubbing his face.

  “But…Lieutenant O’Shea,” whispered Eselder, “He tr-tried to defend me, and they took him below, and I th-think…I think they killed him!”

  Blake said quietly, “I think you’re right.”

  “This is all my fault!” Eselder’s soft cry was torn with anguish. “If I hadn’t put him in danger—”

  “This is not your fault! Listen to me, Eselder!” Blake snarled, grabbing Eselder’s shoulder. It was so thin! This was not the same soft landlubber who’d been pressganged three months ago. Weeks of hard labor and pain had transformed Eselder. “None of this is your fault! Don’t you fall for that lie! Don’t…don’t make my mistake.”

  Blake’s voice cracked. He quickly released Eselder and looked down.

  “It’s a slippery slope into hell,” he said softly.

  Aware that Eselder was staring at him, Blake cleared his throat and said urgently, “They aren’t going to have a chance to send that ransom note, much less kill you! Come on, lad, they’ve run down a fishing boat! This is our chance; let’s go!”

  “I can’t!” Eselder’s voice shook.

  “Why not?”

  Eselder pointed at the metal ball lying on the deck…that was attached to a chain…that was attached to his ankle. Blake was annoyed but by no means defeated.

  “That’s too bad. But it won’t stop us! Here’s the plan.”

  He helped himself to Eselder’s beef and cheese.

  “While I go loot Thornhill’s cabin,” he explained through a mouthful of cheddar, “You sit yourself down at that table like a good little lad and write out your suicide note.”

  “Suicide?”

  “Aye, Eselder, I’m afraid your mind has finally snapped. Truth be told, I was always waiting for it to happen. Overcome with despair…or lust for revenge, take your pick…you decided to jump overboard rather than see a single gold sovereign in your captors’ greedy hands.”

  “Oh my,” murmured the prince, but a slow smile spread across his face. Blake was pleased to see his spirits reviving.

  “Oh my is right,” he agreed, wiping his greasy, cheesy fingers on Thornhill’s bench cushion, “Now get to it, lad, and hurry!
We don’t have much time.”

  They both set to work. Eselder flung himself at the table, shoved aside Thornhill’s cocked hat, and started scribbling away while Blake skulked into the great cabin. It was another slap in the face to behold Thornhill’s cabin, for it seemed a breach of justice that the villain should have quarters so grand. He was on a hunt for a lock pick, but when he spotted an ebony box with a telltale slit in its lid, his eyes lit up. That looked promising. He picked it up and shook it, and his heart glowed as its metal contents jingle-jangled in a melodious fashion.

  In the dining cabin, Blake took a cutting knife from the set of elegant silverware. If worst came to worst, it was better than nothing. Then he located a container full of silver toothpicks on the dining table, selected one, and went back to Thornhill’s moneybox. In no time at all, he had picked its lock. Sadly, he couldn’t steal all Thornhill’s money, but he could at least fill the velvet pouch he had also found to the brim. Stuffing the bulging bag into his pocket, he hurried back into the day cabin.

  “Done yet?”

  “Aye,” said Eselder with distinct satisfaction. Blake inserted the toothpick into the lock on Eselder’s ankle.

  “Read it,” he commanded, partly to distract Eselder and partly because he was intrigued.

  With a truly Jaimes-like flourish, Eselder read aloud:

  Dear Captain Charles Thornhill and Mr. Thug Kurzon,

  I told you that I would do everything in my power to escape your hands. I have made good on my word. I am far below you now, where you will never reach me. Death to me is sweeter than life, and I go with a glad heart. My dying wish is that, while my body rests down below, my soul will continue to haunt this ship, and those aboard her.

  “Vindictive little lad, aren’t we?”

  “Exceedingly.”

  Only when you join my wronged crewman and I in the deep do I feel that I shall truly be at rest.

  Blake liked that part. Exceedingly.

  Although it seems most insincere considering the circumstances, I will be so bold as to wish you both health and happiness, and I remain your most obliging and humble servant,