The BlackJack Pirates 6
#6 of The BlackJack pirates
The BlackJack pirates 6
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-the last chapter ended on a depressing note, and while I'd like to say things will get better in chapter six, that would be lying.
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"Admiral Adams, it's good to see you in one piece. I honestly expected you to be dead after you were abducted by those pirates." Smiled admiral Lock, leading me down a hallway in navy headquarters. His smile sent a shiver up my spine. "I'm glad to be back, sir." I said, putting on a smile of my own, though I couldn't tell if I meant it or not. Admiral Lock is actually my superior, as he's a vice admiral and I'm a rear admiral, thus me calling him sir. Though those stations aren't that far apart... Though honestly nobody would guess that he's ranked above me. People who know him have much the same opinion. But he's my senior, having been here for at least ten more years than me. Technically I'm one of the youngest people to ever become an admiral.
"Forgive me if this sounds rude, but why did you call me in? I was just released from being a prisoner of a bunch of pirates, I would think I'd be given a little time to readjust." I said, walking along beside Lock. It hurt me inside to call them 'a bunch of pirates.' He laughed and slapped me on the back. "I figured you'd want to be present for the meeting of admirals." He said, with that spine tingling smile. "Wait, all the admirals are gathering? What for?" I asked. It's extremely rare for the admirals to all be called together in one place.
"We're about to wage war on the BlackJack family." He said. He had that same smile.
"Tazzamen, I'm so glad you're back. Jackson, remind me to write a letter of thanks to those navy fellows, will you." My mother said, without even a smile. She's infuriating. She has no emotions whatsoever, and the only thing she cares about is appearance and being "proper". I despise it, that demand for women to be dolled up and married off as a status symbol. I want to live my own life and do what I want, not be a submissive, housewife babymaker for some asshole noble.
"Tazzamen, I'm so glad you've come home." Smiled James, who wrapped me in a hug. Not even a passionate hug, but a pathetic "proper" hug. Unbearable. Then he kissed me on the cheek. I almost threw up. "Get off me!" I yelled, pushing him away. Everyone gasped, even my normally stone-faced mother. "Tazzamen, what has gotten into you?" Mother asked. "What's gotten into me is freedom. Being free, away from you and your ridiculous rules about how I'm supposed to act, away from the stupid things society says I'm supposed to do and think, and most of all, away from him!" I said, pointing at James. "I despise your rules and I despise societies rules for me, but I. Fucking. Hate. James!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. There was no gasping. Just silence.
"Young lady, I am shocked at you. Those pirates have completely messed with your mind." My mother said, shaking her head in disappointment. I growled and threw a plate at her. One of those fine glass China plates. It shattered on the wall next to her head, but it didn't actually hit her. Unfortunate.
"Don't call me 'young lady'. I'm not some object to be married off to the likes of him, to be paraded about as some status symbol. I'm not some housewife who cleans up after a husband. I'm not some kind of brood mother who's only job is to pop out kids. I'm most certainly not a 'lady!'" I yelled. It felt so good to finally get all that off my chest, but with it came all the anger I'd been holding in. "Well what are you then?" James asked, with the first look of anger I'd ever seen on him. I shouted at him. At all of them. "I'm a pirate!"
It's dark. I can't see very well, even after my eyes have spent forever adjusting. You can see, if you try, but everything is a dull, dark grey. It feels like it's been years down here. I'm so thirsty. I feel like I could drink the ocean, salt and all. I know the salt would just make it worse, but I don't care anymore. They bring in food and water sometimes, but it's not nearly often enough. It's been so long since I've had anything to eat or drink. Down here, wherever here is, you measure time by the feedings. It's been... Twenty I think. It's been so long since I've eaten. Or since I've had anything to do. We've been sitting here in the dark. Theres no noise except for the occasional coughing fit, and some people groaning.
When the guards put us in here, they said it was to "break our spirit" or something. It's working. I... I don't know what day it is. I don't know if it's day or night. I don't even know the month anymore. I don't know where my friend is. He was here with me, but I don't know where he went. I tried calling to him, but he doesn't respond. His picture in my head... I could never forget it. But I'm forgetting me. I feel like I'm losing myself. I barely know who I_ am_ anymore.
Suddenly, the clanking of chains. Not cuffs or manacles, but big, heavy chains. Opening the door. They're opening the door. Food, water, or new prisoners? That was the question on my mind, and likely everyone else's. The door climbed upward with a loud, slow groaning. It was a big, thick iron door. Wide as a house, tall as one, and thick as a man's head. Light poured in through the opening, blinding at first, but easing once adjusted to. The light came from an iron grated hole in the cieling past the door. The door leads into a tunnel that leads up to an even bigger iron door.
In walked two guards, with a man inbetween them. A big man, a whole two heads taller than the guards, and one of them must have been six foot. I could see they were having trouble carrying him. I couldn't get much of a look at him, but he was familiar somehow. He was one of the beast races, that much is certain.
The two guards dropped the man like a sack of oranges, and he collapsed like one. "And stay down there, you mangy mutt." One of the guards growled. Mutt. That's an insult humans call canine people. "New corpse." One of the others said, his voice dry and raspy. Corpses. That's what we are. That's all that's left of us. We were men once, but no more. Now we're just bodies, rotting away to nothing.
I don't know why, I didn't have the energy to spare, but I crawled over to him. I didn't know who he was, but I went over to him. Then I realized. I did know him. No matter what was done to me, or what I was forced to experience, I would never forget him. Captain BlackJack.
"Captain. Captain, get up. Come on." I said, shaking him. He didn't stir, save for a slight fluttering of the eyes. He did seem to notice me, though I'm not sure if he recognized me. He smiled, one of those wide, toothy smiles of his, but it was weak. So very weak. "Sunny Day." He smiled.
The captain was led away to somewhere, but I don't know where. Half the cre was split up and taken away as well. The rest of us were put here, in this big, dim pit of a room. It's bright enough to see, but it's dim and you have to squint. We were told that after about a day or so, we would be ready for the event, whatever that means. "Aloe." One of the men called out. "Yeah?" I called back. "Are we gonna die here?" He asked. A good question, really. "I don't know." I muttered. At the hands of the navy? I doubt we'll get out of here in good shape, but we might get out alive. Or not.
I don't know what we should expect, or what "the event" is, but I do know that it won't end well for us. We might have to fight our way out of here, and I don't think we could manage that. Our men aren't exactly the strongest, and our morale has taken a serious hit. Plus, without the captain, we're basically just a bunch of flailing children.
"How about a song, boys." Said Cal, with a big grin on his face. The crew all grinned with him, and as their voices went up, I could feel their spirits go up with them. Half sung one part, and half sung the other. "Whiskey is the life of man. Whiskey, Johnny. Whiskey is the life of many. Whiskey for my Johnny." They all sang, laughing and smiling again. It's good to see them smiling. God knows we need it. "I'll drink whiskey when I can. Whiskey, Johnny. I'll drink it from an old tin can. Whiskey for my Johnny." They sang, and by now they were laughing. All except Kenmure, who was just balled up in a corner, motionless. I feel bad for him. Denmure... The navymen took his body away, and we don't know what's become of him. We can't be certain he's dead, but I wouldn't bet a drop of seawater on him being alive. I just hope they give him a proper burial.
"Whiskey drove me around Cape Horn. Whiskey, Johnny. It was many a month when I was gone. Whiskey for my Johnny." They laughed. They were finally happy, though for how long it will last, I can't say. "I thought I heard the old man say. Whiskey, Johnny. 'I'll treat my crew in a decent way'. Whiskey for my Johnny. A cup of grog for every man. Whiskey, Johnny. And a bottle for the shantyman. Whiskey for my Johnny." They sang, and then it all devolved into laughter. That's a song we're particularly fond of, because we're drunkards, though we know others. Morale has increased, but most likely not by enough. "Give us a shanty." Yelled another. It was Phil this time. Everyone laughed and started singing again. Poor fools.
The captain has been doing badly. He has trouble moving, and he's extremely weak. He seizes up in fits of shaking sometimes. These symptoms. I'm not a doctor, but I recognize them. Withdrawal. One of the crewmen on a ship I sailed with once was addicted to this drug, I don't know what it was, and it just wrecked him when we forced him off of it. He was a complete mess, but eventually he came out of it. It was a long and painful process, but one that he needed to go through. The captain is much the same. I don't know how he ended up in this state, but whatever the reason, he needed help.
We sat there for a while, and just talked. We talked about the old days, about the ships we'd plundered, the towns we'd ransacked, and our days as our own country. Back in the day, the beginning, it was just me and the captain against the world. It wouldn't have been fair otherwise. I had to laugh at that. It was just us, and then we found Riktor. We found Riktor in the service of a bunch of slave owners. The beast races are always being enslaved, just because they aren't like us. Simply because someone is different doesn't make them inferior. There are technically less of the beast races than there are humans, but they don't need numbers when half of them are stronger than us, and most of them are faster, yet for some reason humans decide to enslave them. So many humans think of them as just mindless animals. It's pathetic. But, that aside, oh the old days.
"Yo captain, where we headed?" I smiled, while the captain steered the ship. It was a small, beat up piece of crap, barely capable of holding ten people, but it was ours, and we loved it. That old thing, we replaced her early on, but the captain still takes care of her back in town. She was the Red Woman, named by the previous owner. She had old tattered sails that barely caught wind from all the holes in them, and they were faded beyond belief to a dull white that you could see were slightly pink if you looked real hard. With a microscope. They had been bright red at one point, hence the red part of the name. She was a piece of junk that was held together by hope and prayer, but she was ours.
"I was thinking we could go raid a plantation. Those owners have tons of money, and I figured we could free some slaves while we're there." He grinned, in that ridiculous way he always does. He always was a bit of a nut, but his heart was in the right place. The captain isn't like other pirates. He didn't become a pirate to destroy, pillage or rape. He became a pirate because it's fun to do all the ridiculous nonsense that he's so good at, and because he gets to be free and live by his own rules. That's the only real reason for being a pirate, if you ask me.
"Plantation to starboard, captain." I said an hour later, looking through a spyglass. The captain grinned and turned, steering us towards a rocky cliff that scaled up to the plantation itself. Dear god he's going to have us climb that thing. True to my suspicion, we ended up climbing a vertical rock face with no climbing gear.
"This wasn't your best plan." I muttered, as we finally pulled ourselves over the edge. "I see that now." He panted, out of breath, but still with that everpresent smile on his face. Cocky little son of a bitch, he was. We both had a laugh, before realizing we had guns pointed at our heads. "I hate you so much." I muttered. "Hate you too bitch." "Very mature." "Shut up."
"It has come to my attention that you two have been caught tresspassing on my property." Said a white suited man smoking a cigar. He spoke in a very dignified manner. Unfortunately, that dignity only went skin deep. The captain had been stripped of his captain's coat and put in chains. I myself was quite unrestrained actually. The captain had put up a hell of a fight when they tried to take his sword. He killed at least five and knocked out six more before taking a rifle butt to the forehead. He was still covered in other people's blood, which just made him look exponentially more terrifying. Despite the marks of an obvious and extreme beating, he was unbowed. The look in his eyes told me that if he were unchained, he'd be over that table and the white suited man would be dead in half a heartbeat. The look also said being chained wouldnt stop him anyways if he were pushed any further. He was clearly at the limit of his patience with these people. They took his sword. You do not take the captain's sword. That sword is his badge of office, and his wife. He sharpens it daily, polishes it twice, and it's never far from his side.
"I can understand the savagery of this mutt boy here, but not from you son. What exa-" "I'd shut your god damn mouth if I were you, you prick." I growled. He gave me a raised eyebrow look. "You should be more careful about your wording son. You never know what kind of a reaction a man like myself could have." He said, puffing on that stupid cigar.
"This man is my friend, and also captain of our ship. He's a better man than you, and clearly better than your guards." I grinned, referring to the blood on his fur. The white suited man grumbled something under his breath.
"Simply because the boy is strong doesn't mean he's better than my guards. The beasts are strong, that's what makes them such exceptional s-" "If you say the word slave, I will personally put a knife in your throat." I growled. "Slave." The man muttered, slowly, deliberately, every letter emphasized. In that next instant, me and the captain working in tandem, he elbowed one guard's face, grabbed his gun, and went on a rampage with it as a club. At the same time, I leapt across the table and put the man on the ground.
"He's a better man than you are, you prick." I growled, before I felt something hit me over the head, and everything blacked out. I woke up in chains, next to some guy and the captain.
"Guy hit you in the head with a rifle butt again didn't he." I muttered. "Yup." "Got me too didn't he." I sighed. "Yup." "Every freaking time!" I sighed again. Every time we get a thing going, someone comes along and gets us with a hit to the back of the head. This is why we need more people in the crew." I muttered. This all stems from the fact that we don't have anyone watching our backs. That and plot convenience.
"Stop breaking the fourth wall you idiot. That'll get you killed." Muttered the guy next to me. Who the heck is this guy? I asked as much. "Name's Riktor. I'm one of the many people who work here, and I use the word 'work' in an ironic sense, of course. Welcome to the gang. The big blind man over there is Cal, he's our resident strong guy." He said. The guy was big, muscled, dark skin, and with eyes white like pearls. He was blind, obviously, but still I got this weird feeling that he knew what was going on around him.
"That there is Nuttania, the pink squirrel. She doesn't do much except sit there curled up in a ball in the corner. Cant say I blame her, after what she's gone through. She's a slave of a more... _carnal _nature. We don't talk about it." Riktor muttered. Poor thing. She was laying on her side in the corner, legs bent up so that you couldn't see her face. Thin limbs that were lithe, but not malnourished, rather just naturally thin. She didn't really so much as move, save for the occasional shudder. Riktor just shook his head, as if his pity could do something for her.
"But over there is Poe. He's a crow, not a raven. Kind of a know-it-all, but a good man nonetheless. He's also a sarcastic asshole." Riktor mumbled. "He and the captain should get along well." I muttered in response.
"Who?" Riktor asked. I chuckled. I'd forgotten that not everyone knows him. "The direwolf next to me. Big guy, name's BlackJack, and he's the captain of our ship." I said, smiling.
"That guy is a captain? Didn't think that was possible for us beast races. He looks like he's got a billion holes in him though." He muttered, referring to the blood still soaking the captain's fur. I had to laugh, probably a lot louder than I should have, given my current situation.
"That's not his." I said plainly. Everything got really quiet, as if nobody knew quite how to respond. "That guy is covered in blood that isn't his... How many people did he kill?" Riktor asked.
"Five dead, six unconscious." I said, with a grin. Suddenly jaws hit the ground, as if amazed that one man could cause so much damage. I find it hard to believe myself sometimes, and I live with him.
"So captain BlackJack, what's your secret? You some kind of god or something?" Asked the blind man Cal, in a voice that suggested he was partly joking.
The captain, without looking up from the ground, said "There are but four gods, and I am not one of them," and then lapsed back into silence. This wasn't a beaten down silence, but more one of intense thought.
"I didn't realize he was so religious." Said Poe, with a curious look in his eyes, as if this new information was exciting to him. Something about this guy annoys me. I dont know what it is or why, but he just does. Dick.
"He doesnt talk about it much. Doesn't like to shove his religion down other people's throats. A good quality, to be sure." I responded, and everyone unanimously agreed that religious people are annoying.
"So..." The captain said, drawing everyone's attention. He looked up, flashed one of those cocky grins of his, and said Seven words. Seven beautiful words. "You bitches wanna bust out of here?"
"I remember those days. I miss those. Things were so simple back then." The captain smiled weakly, before he siezed up again, shaking like an earthquake, and arching his back so far I thought he'd snap his spine. Then he collapsed again, laying still like a ragdoll. For such a big man, he looked so weak. So fragile. Broken. No man should ever fall so far, especially not him. He was clearly passed out, probably deep in his dreams. I sighed, patted him on the head and laid down next to him.
A while later, he woke up, and we started talking again. This time the subject was about pretty much anything that came to mind. One of our favorite subjects, actually. At least fifteen minutes later, we settled upon the subject of his current health.
"You're going through withdrawal, captain. I don't know what you've been on, but you arent going to feel better until this is all out of your system. Just what were you on anyways?" I asked. Alchohol alone wouldn't do something like this.
"Something I got from a guy in Joslin's bar. Said it would help. It did at first, but then reality pushed through." He sighed sadly. Poor, poor captain. Then he seized up again, this time worse than the others. He quaked, nearly snapped his spine arching up again, and threw up on the ground. I sighed and scooted us away from it. After the seizing, he drifted into what almost looked like a peaceful sleep. He looked like a a child, sleeping peacefully in his bed. An eight foot child. I laughed. Technically he's closer to eight foot four, give or take an inch, but that doesn't have quite the same ring to it.
I had to think about why the captain had turned to drinking and drugs in the first place. Orville. I didn't know the man, but I'd heard of him, both from the captain and by reputation. Of the four aces of the BlackJack family, orville was the second as far as skill goes, at least according to what I've heard. The captain didn't exactly speak highly of him, to put it lightly, but he did respect him. However, something about Orville's relationship with him must have caused the captain to spiral into depression. That much seems rather obvious. The BlackJack family is, in actuality, one of the most succesful, feared pirate groups in the new world. The first in skill of the aces would be Carver, I believe, and the things I've heard aren't pretty. I don't put too much stock in rumors, but it's the overwhelming consistency of the rumors that disturbs me. They all say the same thing, that he's a ten foot, broad chested, monster of a man that can throw boulders with ease and is as fast as he is strong. I wouldn't believe any of it, if it weren't for the fact that everyone says the same things, even the people who've seen him in person.
The captain is tough, but I doubt even he could beat carver in a fight. He barely beat Orville. Plus, if the rumors are to be believed, the captain stole a decent sum of money from Carver, and has been been on his blacklist ever since.
Me and the captain just laid back and went to sleep. Feels like night around now anyways. Or maybe noon. One of the two. I awoke to the sound of retching. The captain was convulsing again. He shook for a while, before relaxing again.
"Hey Sunny, remember how we got out of that plantation?" The captain grinned weakly. Oh yeah. That was definitely interesting.
"So, you're some kind of bigshot captain, what's the plan?" Riktor asked, skeptical at best of the captain's abilities.
"Simple. We break into the guard barracks, and we steal all their pants." The captain snickered. There was an almost universal sighing, myself included. The only one who didn't was Cal.
"Despite the inherent and obvious stupidity of that plan, it is also quite ingenious. What guards are going to run out into battle with nothing but their underwear? Not a one. And no guards means no one to stop us from leaving." Cal murmered, with a hint of admiration and more than a hint of humour in his voice.
"Okay, so we all agree that it's a good plan, but are we allowed to also agree that it's stupid?" Riktor asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Yes." The captain responded.
"Well okay then, let's put this crazy ass plan in action." Riktor said, with, surprisingly, a grin on his face. He's coming around. I grinned to myself. The captain has a way of rallying people, even without trying. He's a natural leader, despite his obvious insanity.
"Trust me, you are gonna love this." The captain chuckled silently. Crazy bastard.
*HEY! * A voice broke me out of my memories. I'm back in this depressing hole, and there are men with spears and guns surrounding everybody. One of them is staring at the captain and me. He has a look on him, like he's expecting something big or exciting. There's a wicked grin on his face.
It's been... How long since we got here? Couldn't have been more than a few hours ago, and yet already the men are looking beaten. They stopped singing a while ago, and now they all just sit there, like coprses, as if the reality of their situation has finally dawned on them.
Suddenly scraping, and the unmistakable groaning sound of iron being pushed to it's limits. The door is opening. Why is the door opening? Unless... No, I got nothing.
A group of men walk in, half with guns and half with spears. They circled around the room and started corralling us toward the door. We all had no choice but to go along, walking up the tunnel until we reached the surface. The sunlight was blinding, not letting me see anything. And there was the roaring sound in my ears.
"Holy shit." One of the men, probably Carmine, muttered. Finally my eyes adjusted. We were standing in the center of a massive arena. There's a massive croud watching from stands. All of it reminiscent of the Colosseum of Rome.
"We are so fucked."