Yes sir, Captain - Chapter 1

You blinked your eyes open. Where am I? you thought.

Wherever it was, it was loud, noisy, dirty, and smelled like old socks.

The last thing you remember was being out in the city, in disguise, just going for a secret stroll late at night, accompanied by two undercover guards for just in case, (you weren’t too risky.) You’d snuck out of the castle and bribed the other guards who saw you leave, all done while wishing you didn’t have to be a princess…when you and everyone around you on the sidewalk suddenly fell asleep, as if someone released a gas.

Well, surprise surprise; this definitely wasn’t home.

The sunrise was blinding bright, a shining blood-red that made you take a second for you to get your bearings.

There was a lot of stomping and loud, very gruff talking, and by the cool salty breeze, you could tell you’re outside.

Someone had taken your dress off you and left you in your slip. You didn’t feel as though you’d been inappropriately touched, but you still felt very mentally and physically uncomfortable.

You were tied with your wrists above your head to a pole in the ground you were leaning against, utterly stunned with the drastic change of scenery and situation…. The people around you were pretty much all buff and gruff men.

No, not just any buff-and-gruff men. Pirates.

You’d been kidnapped by pirates.

Oh snap.

Several men surrounded you, their faces covered in battlescars, swords in their belts, red, maroon, blue, or purple trench-coats over their shoulders, these three men all looking much more prestigious than most others there.

A man behind you spoke up in a low, gruff voice. “Good, awake she be. Cap’ns, this saucy wench I found out on a night’s stroll. Going I had been for several others that around her they’d been too, but as me men and me ran out to git them all, too close to the castle we bin, and several guards came a’runnin’, so we be grabbin’ this wench, ’cause the most buxom wench of the booty she be, and left. She be the only one we got.”

“So…an aristocrat she be?” one of them inquired, all three of them staring me down studiously. They all looked rather scary, even for pirates…

“Arrr,” he said, so…apparently that meant ‘yes.’

“And her name be?”

“Uh…we be…unsure of that.”

“So actually know who she be, you don’t? And prove she’s an aristocrat you can’t?” another asked. “And there be no proof we could sell a successful ransom?”

“Well…”

They exchanged glances, turned around and started to leave.

“Wait, me salty sea-dogs, you might not be able to hold her for ransom, but she be…be a plunder of a cabin slave!”

The three captains turned around. “I be offended you think we run the kind of ship that be buyin’ one of those,” one said, shaking his head, disgraced, and left.

“Well, I think it but reason…” one of them said, like that was an agreement. The other two of them turned around and came back.

“So how much for the wench?” the other of the two asked.

“Ten ounces,” the man behind you said boldly.

“Avast! Of what?! Sand?! Belay that gruff!”

“I don’t even be bringin’ ten ounces of me gold!” the other captain exclaimed.

“Then that’s an end on that! But in how many years you be findin’ one like this’n?! I tell you true! Ten be a plunder!”

You could, from what you knew, buy a horse and carriage with ten ounces of gold. Or a comfy one-room home. Or, now…apparently a girl. You.

He was drawing more attention to you. He went on trying to talk about how much you should be worth and why you were worth it, while you petrified in silence, and a crowd began to form.

“I’ll pay ten for the wench!” a sailor called. “Got it right here!”

“And I be payin’ fifteen!” another exclaimed.

You couldn’t see it, but you could sense the man selling you as a slave growing a big smile.

This was turning into an auction. To sell you.

“Do I hear twenty?!” he yelled.

“Twenty!” several confirmed.

“Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-five!”

“Thirty?”

The crowd suddenly looked rather hesitant. Few carried thirty ounces of gold around with them. Very few.

“Thirty,” came a voice.

“Do I hear a thirty-five?” he asked.

A, different from the thirty, lone voice spoke out. “Thirty-five! We be rich, but we’re not stuff for the gallows.” A chubby, rough-looking, low-voiced Captain marched up in front of you. And my goodness, he was ugly. “I’ll pay the thirty-five.”

“Anybody else!” he called, trying to get as much money as he possibly could. “Anybody else be for thirty-five ounces a’ gold?”

He didn’t hear another thirty-five. You got very scared for a moment.

Then, in the crowd, you caught someone’s eye.

He couldn’t have been much older than you. Eighteen or nineteen, maybe. You couldn’t see much of him, or what he was wearing through the people, but he peered at you with a strange look. You swallowed.

He disappeared

“Then that be it, my squires! Sold, to the-”

“Forty!” came a new voice.

“Forty-five!” the chubby captain responded immediately, stunned there was even a reply.

“Fifty!” the voice returned, and pushed his way towards me. “Fifty ounces of gold for the wench.”

It was that young man who’d looked at you.

He was a pirate ship Captain.

And a not-very-ugly captain, at that. He had a scar on his cheek, but otherwise, he looked rather…was that handsome? Is it even possible for a dirty-rich slave-buying pirate to look good?

Except for that nasty sneer on his face. “Here is the fifty,” he said, untying a pouch of gold coins from his waist and holding it up in front of the nose of the man behind you in a fist. That was more than three pounds of gold.

Well if they knew who I was, I’d be selling for much more than fifty… you thought. Well, it was true.

The man holding you captive reached for the sack of gold. “No no no,” your new master said, raising his eyebrows. “First the girl. Then the gold.” Well, that’s the first person to call you anything other than ‘slave’ or ‘wench.’

The man behind you hesitantly reached down and untied you. “Think I don’t you to be the type of dog for cabin slaves, me lad. I near be thinkin’ you have a policy ‘gainst cabin wenches. Yarr, me own son to be stubborn, I don’t be thinkin’ so.”

“Then maybe you don’t know that much about me. And don’t call me that, Scarpa.”

He reached down and grabbed your arm and dragged you to your feet, and you yelped. Not just because of how harshly he’d pulled you up, but by the tightness in his grip.

“You’re no father to me,” he added with a mutter, still not even looking at you.

“I raised you, and you be turnin’ into a fine sea-dog,” he admitted. “You know yer business. But fifty be some hearty booty, and if she be worth that, I almost be keepin’ her meself…”

“Do you want me to buy her or not?”

“Yarrr, of course, some to my sorrow. The gold, I need.”

“Then stop talking,” the captain said. He handed over the sack of coins. The man behind you, Scarpa, peeked inside.

“This doesn’t look like enough,” Scarpa warned.

“Then look again, or do I need to give you my sword, too?”

“Oh I be takin’ that if you be givin’ that.”

“I’ll cleave you to the brisket, Scarpa,” the boy hissed.

“Place in rank for you, me hearty.”

“Bones is what you’ll be, now belay that gruff.” He said it like he was saying ‘shut up.’ For all you knew, that’s what it meant.

Scarpa went silent. “Of course not, son.”

“Good,” the captain said, and looked curiously the few inches down into your eyes.

You trembled

He looked at you hard, as if he were inspecting you, studying your soul to see if it were fit for his work.

You looked away.

He grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him, his nose nearly touching yours.

You swallowed, tears brimming in your eyes.

He stared at you like that for a very long moment, as if he were trying to impose on you already that he was your new master. And he got to do whatever he wanted with you.

And then he smiled a crooked grin, but to you, it still looked like a sneer. He looked like he’d just won something, and approved of his new prize.

“You’ll do,” he muttered aloud, looking you all over again.

Then he turned and started to walk off, your upper arm in his grip.

“All my duty to you, son,” Scarpa said, like it was simply saying he had some respect.

The captain gave a wave of his hand, but didn’t stop or look back. He just kept dragging you wherever it was you were going.

He pulled you through the crowds, and you tried to break free of him, not sure of where else you’d go, but not wanting to go with anybody back to their pirate ship. You thrashed against him, trying to break free, not saying a word, but shoving at him, kicking, trying to escape.

He spun around and grabbed your shoulders, pulling you close to his face. “Shut it, your majesty,” he snapped. You gave a little gasp. “And yes, I know who you are. Now come with me or everyone else will know too.”

You paled.

He looked you over again, and smiled his crooked sneer. “Yes, you’ll do quite fine.”