Chapter 1. The Adventurous Master Fawkes
I'd been aboard Her Majesty's merchant vessel Excursion for weeks, neither as deckhand nor guest, but rather, a passenger of a more uninvited variety. A stowaway, if you like, however I considered my cause noble and therefor excused this breech of seafaring etiquette only for this circumstance. All right, I had excused it previously in many, many other circumstances, but my heart is pure and belongs to the sea. Had I but one chance, I would work harder than any seafaring man alive.
Instead, I was forced to live below decks like a rat, lurking in the shadows while the sailors tied and untied the riggings and constantly chased the western winds carrying us to the New World. It was an excruciating way to travel, to be stuffed in the cellar of the ship without sun nor sea. I felt sickly all the time, breathing in that putrid, damp air while the men above were free under the sun and be sprayed in the face with sweet ocean mist.
They were a good lot, from what I could tell, if somewhat boring. They treated one another fairly and the Quartermaster never had to beat anyone for stealing. There was no wickedness toward the cabin boys no matter how drunk they got. They were a disciplined and proper example of the Royal Navy.
Quite different from the ships I'd been raised on, I can tell you that much.
All in all, it had been a rather uneventful journey, and that suited my purposes just fine. All that I required of my hosts was that they keep good food stores. That, and provide me uninterrupted passage toward my destination.
I crept throughout the dark hold, listening to the men singing above me while I gnawed on a handful of their oranges. I was always careful not to lose any of the peels or seeds or leave any trace at all of my presence. Men of the sea are notorious for their punishments of stowaways, and I had no desire to be keelhauled and made into shark food.
I returned to the ship's stern and removed the loose panels that concealed my hollowed out sleeping quarters. All barque ships of that design contained a large enough space between the bowspirit and stern for a bedroll and a few preciously stowed belongings. During the day I'd remove the boards from inside the wall and wander around, taking only what I needed to survive and nothing more. I prided myself on not being a thief, or at least, not being one in the strictest sense. I never once disturbed any of the men's things or stole from them, no matter how tempting it was.
And I did my best to earn my keep. In the middle of the night I'd go above decks and inspect their sails and riggings. If anything was improperly fastened or needed attendance, I would climb up the masts and see to it, then make my escape before anyone saw.
On a pirate ship, the rigger's job is the most dangerous one. It's a slippery job to be so high up in the air as the ship rocks back and forth and sea water slaps you from every direction. On a pirate ship, you get whipped if you don't fasten the riggings correctly.
By the looks of their work, Her Royal Navy's sailors weren't quite as determined to get it right.
Inside my small alcove, I removed the small slat beneath the bowspirit that allowed me to see what we were sailing toward. I hoped only to see land. I'd done my best to gauge where we were and how long we'd been at sea, and by my reckoning, it would not be much longer until we arrived. Then I would have to wait until all of the men were paid and made their way into port to spend their earnings on drink and women, and then I would make my escape.
Instead of land, I saw nothing but the rolling black waves of the sea, and just coming over the horizon, a sight that made my eyes widen.
It was a black flag, rippling as it emerged over the horizon. Its white skull and two crossed swords rose up toward the clouds by the second, growing taller and taller until I could make out the details of its dozens of massive guns, and they were all pointed at us. I