Scalawag

PROLOGUE

You wouldn’t dare! the captain shouted, waving the end of his crutch angrily in the air. The Swan is my ship, Black, and don’t you be forgettin’ it! I designed her, I built her, and I sailed her around the bloody world!

The large man stared hard into the captain’s eyes, a glare like steel beneath his three-cornered hat. Black towered over the captain, his burly frame casting an ominous shadow over the other. He scratched at the scraggly, black beard that framed his crooked mouth and then placed his hands upon the two muskets that crossed in his belt.

Is it? he asked with contempt. Take a look around you, Mad Dog. Most of the men stand with me!

You mutinous dog! The pirate’s code… Mad Dog felt the back of Black’s hand. It smacked loudly across his face.

Blast the pirate’s code! Black turned to the crew and smiled broadly. Well, lads, he began. What should we do with them?

Hang ’em! cried one voice, then another.

Yeah, string ’em up, sang a chorus of pirates.

Mad Dog raised both hands over his head in an attempt to silence the crew. Black crossed his arms, a smile stretched across his ruddy face.

Sink me! Do what you like with me, snapped Mad Dog, but spare the lads…

Nooo, was the muddled call from the crew. Hang ’em, one and all.

Hey, hollered an unseen pirate, there’s a clean dozen of ’em. I ain’t sure if we got enough rope!

The slimy crew burst into a raucous fit of laughter.

Now, now, lads, shouted Black. Let’s not be hasty…

Hasty? screamed another. His men killed five of ours…

You scum! shouted Mad Dog. There ain’t nothin’ lower than mutineers!

This brought another burst of laughter, whistles, and calls.

Shut up, Peg Leg, cried one grimy pirate.

The rope for you! shouted another.

Black raised his arms for silence. The crew responded. Black turned back to Mad Dog, but said nothing. Finally, after a parting glance at each of the faithful dozen that his crew had condemned to death, he growled, Hang ’em!

His crew responded with a great cheer, ropes wildly waving overhead.

Wait! screamed the one legged Mad Dog. The crew quieted with an involuntary respect from years of obeying his orders. I swear to you, Black, if you kill us, I will come back to haunt you for the rest of your days!

Yeah, shouted the small, pudgy quartermaster, who stood loyally at his captain’s side. We too will come back – right lads? But the other eleven just hung their heads. The spirit beaten out of them, the lads had resigned themselves to their fate.

Black moved closer to Mad Dog, laughing louder with every step.

I don’t believe in ghosts, Mad Dog, he declared softly. Black began to laugh. So hard did he bellow that he clutched at his aching sides.

Mark my word, Black! screamed Mad Dog. I will have my revenge! Savvy?

Black reached down and snatched a coil of rope from the deck. He paused, stared hard at the cord, and then glared at the peg-legged Mad Dog and his faithful crew.

Hang ’em, Black growled, before throwing the filthy rope to the outstretched hands of his crew.

CHAPTER ONE: The Swan

Throw him below! growled an unseen voice.

Aye, Captain, answered another.

Leave me alone! screamed the boy. He strained madly against the ropes that bound his wrists. Laughter filled the air – loud and raucous – men’s hoarse voices. He felt the roughness as a hand grasped wildly at his hair. The boy’s head snapped back. Stop! That hurts!

You’ll do as you’re told, boy, snapped an incredibly large man, as he stepped into view. The boy’s eyes widened at the sight. Big, he was. As big as any man he had ever seen. Filthy from head to toe, a stringy beard crept down over his bare, muscular chest. You’re going into the hold, lad. That should take the fight out of you.

Why are you doing this to me…? The back of the man’s meaty hand stopped the boy abruptly. It burned hard against his young cheek. A tear streaked down his face.

You’ll be servin’ this ship, you will! growled the man. He spat as he spoke: What’s your name, lad?

The boy narrowed his eyes in defiance. He felt a large hand pull at his hair. He winced.

Answer the captain! hissed the voice from behind.

You’ll be sorry when my father…

The man holding him pulled his hair harder.

Ouch! H-Henry, replied the boy.

That’s better... Henry, said the captain. Welcome aboard my ship, The Swan.

What do you want with me? Henry demanded.

Well, Henry, replied the captain. I’ll be needin’ a cabin boy.

I don’t know anything about being a cabin boy, Henry replied.

The captain moved closer, very close to Henry’s face. The boy shuddered. He stared into the man’s narrow black eyes.

Oh, you will, Henry my boy, hissed the captain, You will!

* * * * *

The ship’s hold was dark and very damp. Only a few thin streams of light stabbed through the darkness from tiny cracks in the ship’s deck above. Henry sat curled up against two musty barrels – they smelled of rum and rotting oak. With his stomach churning at every pitch and roll, he began to cry. Long, sad sobs spilled out, filling the quiet hold with life – a sad life as it was.

Only just hours ago, young Henry had stood upon the pier with his father awaiting the arrival of Sir James, a family friend and Knight of the Crown. Sir James was returning from the New World, where he had served these last ten years as governor of the island of Barbados. Any news of the New World brought Henry to the edge of excitement. Someday you’ll go there, his father would tell him.

His father, Thomas Downs, a well-known merchant whose products served England’s western coast, was also eager to hear any news from the Caribbean colonies – good or bad – for they could both hold possibilities of great profit.

It was not long before Sir James had arrived and had been cordially met by Henry’s father. The usual niceties took place before Thomas Downs led the way to a friendly pub that lay near the docks. After a good meal, Henry tired of the adult conversation. He had learned all he wanted of the New World and was eager, as most thirteen year olds would be, to leave the table and observe the comings and goings at the docks.

His father allowed him to leave, but warned Henry to not stray too far from the pub, for the docks could be a dangerous place for anyone, especially a youngster like him. Henry scoffed in his mind of any possible danger, and laughed to himself. He stood, happily away from the adult conversation, in front of the old tavern in the crisp sea air. Henry had always loved the smell and sounds of the sea. He always looked forward to these trips to the port.

Under the bright sunny skies of the coast, it was not long before poor Henry bored of the cobblestones before the pub. He yearned to venture out toward the docks to better hear and see the commotion. Young Henry had not taken more than ten paces away from the pub’s doorway, when he felt a sharp tug on his sleeve. Startled, he turned quickly. It was an old sailor hanging on one crutch to support his only leg. Toothless and gray whiskered, the man smiled, his face cracked and burned from years at sea.

What? snapped the boy defensively.

Oh, dear lad, spat the old man. I surely didn’t mean to scare ya!

What do you want? inquired Henry. He hastily tugged his coat sleeve from the old man’s grip.

The ancient sailor grinned widely, exposing blackened gums. Henry pulled away, repulsed.

Just a penny or two, lad... for an old man of the sea needs to wet his whistle now and then.

I have no money, Henry replied, still backing away.

Come now, commented the sailor, placing the end of his crutch closer to the boy. One dressed as dandily as you…

I swear, snapped Henry. Now leave me be…

The old man hopped toward the boy on his one leg, catching up to his crutch. Panicked, Henry lunged backward attempting to put some distance between he and the sailor. Henry glanced at the pub’s door. It did not escape the one-legged man’s notice.

Looking for someone? inquired the grubby, one-legged man.

Henry fixed his eyes on the sailor’s, appearing as small slits carved in stone.

Y-yes, answered the boy loudly, hoping to attract someone’s attention. My father is in the pub and…

Maybe he can spare a penny or two... for an old man to wet his whistle.

I’m certain he will. I-I’ll go get him, Henry replied. He began to walk toward the tavern. Suddenly the old man’s crutch shot up and blocked the way. What are you doing? I’m going to get some money from my fath… ugh!

Henry felt the air explode from his lungs as the sailor’s wooden prop slammed hard against his chest.

No lad, snapped the man. I believe I have another idea.

That was the last thing Henry remembered.

CHAPTER TWO: Cabin Boy

Weeks had passed and Henry, resigned to his fate, settled into his new life. Filled with bitterness and hate, he served Captain Black the best he could, dreaming every day that one of the king’s frigates would pull up alongside, fire a devastating broadside and free him from these miserable cutthroats. How he missed his family – his mother and father worried sick to death, hoping that they would see their son once more. Day in day out the drudgery of his duties and the pitch and roll of the sea made Henry so weary that he would fall into a dead sleep within seconds of hitting his straw-filled bed. But truly peaceful sleep remained impossible for the boy. A strange feeling that he was not alone disturbed him constantly through the night, waking him stricken with fright.

Prepared to accept the prospect that his wish for rescue would be unanswered, Henry decided it would be better for him to work hard and learn as much about sailing as he possibly could. He knew that knowledge could be his only savior, and means of escape. As much as he despised the captain, his respect for this leader grew every day. The men appeared to love him, one and all, and hung on every word, eagerly awaiting any order he would give, no matter how arduous the task.

One afternoon, Captain Black appeared in an ugly mood. Though still early in the day, he called for his nightly rum. Henry entered the captain’s cabin as quietly as possible. The tall figure stood by the large glass portal, hands held firmly behind his back staring out at the lonely sea. Henry placed the bottle onto the captain’s map table and turned to leave.

Stay, Henry, said the captain softly. He turned away from the glass and smiled broadly at his ward. Have you ever had a taste of rum?

N-No, replied Henry. I’m only thirteen, sir, I…

And you’ll be lucky to make fourteen if I have my way!

I don’t understand…

Captain Black laughed heartily, his dark eyes widened with glee. He said, Why, Master Downs, I am greatly surprised that I have not slit your throat already.

S-S-Sir? said Henry, with a loud gulp.

Captain Black reached up to a shelf and pulled down a small lead goblet, blew away the dust and smacked