Free Privateer's Apprentice by Susan Verrico

Spaniards who would be glad to burn the Queen’s property and take you prisoner.”
    â€œAm I not a prisoner now?” I demand. “Being a prisoner of Spain or France would be no worse!” The words are out before I can take them back. I brace myself, waiting for the Captain’s wrath to fall upon me. But he speaks calmly. There is no need for him to yell, for his words send shivers down my back.
    â€œThe captains who sail under Louis and Philip take few prisoners and only the rich ones at that. You, a poor English boy unworthy of ransom, would find yourself bobbing in the water, most likely without your English head.”
    I swallow hard. “Surely they would understand that I am here against my will and allow me to return to Charles Towne.”
    The Captain laughs, but there is no joy in the sound. “They would run you through with their polished swords before you could open your mouth. You sail on an English ship and therefore you are the enemy of all others.”
    I look again at the sky. I know the Captain speaks the truth, for I saw how those in Charles Town treated the Huguenots who had fled France. It mattered not that they disagreed with King Louis; the blood that filled their bodies was French and that could never change.
    I strain my eyes across the vast sea. Can it be true that a Spanish or French ship lurks nearby? “Tell me how the gulls carry clues,” I say.
    The Captain points across the bow. “If the gull flies from the south, our enemy lies ahead. From the north means we are pursued.”
    â€œAnd suppose there are two more gulls, one that flies from the east and the other the west?” I ask.
    â€œThen we are surrounded,” the Captain says. “And most likely we will be dead come sunup. So use your head whilst you still have it, and watch for gulls that carry warnings.”
    â€œBut if they warn us of our enemies, won’t they warn our enemies of us?”
    The Captain smiles and nods. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said since you came on board. You’re right. The sight of a gull is a message to all that a battle nears.”
    I look out over the water feeling uneasy. Could an enemy ship lie beyond the horizon? Though Queen Anne’s War has waged for almost my entire life, the ocean between the Old World and Charles Towne has always eased my fears.
    For the rest of the afternoon I help Cook clean and salt the fish. Cook teaches me how to grasp the needle fish tightlyaround its belly and then twist the snout from its head with a quick wrench of my wrist; I learn quick enough, but the popping sound when the snout comes off and the spray of blood upon my face makes me sick to my stomach. I work steadily, scraping the innards from each of the fish and then salting the cavity. I place the fish in a small rum barrel that Cook rinsed out, salting each layer as I go along. As I work, my mind travels elsewhere, following the gull across the water to a Spanish or French ship that sails toward us.
    When the last layer is salted and the lid nailed down, Cook leaves me to roll the barrel down to the storage room. I turn the barrel on its side awkwardly, wincing as it bangs hard against the deck. I hear snickering and when I look up, I see Ferdie staring at me. His laughter is cut short, though, when another gull appears suddenly from the south. I watch the bird come off the horizon, a small gray dot that takes shape as it grows closer. The gull flies overhead, circles the ship twice, and then flies off without landing. Two more gulls appear from the south. Solitaire Peep sees them and frowns. He spits upon the deck and then wipes his hand across his mouth. Calling for Ferdie to man the tiller, Peep goes below.
    Ferdie gives me a great gaping smile that displays all his blackened teeth, and makes a sweeping motion across his neck with one finger. “I’m thinking your head will be the first lost,” he says. “For the