The Cabin Boy Chapter One

Chapter 1:

The year was sixteen-sixty-five, buccaneers and pirates from all over the world came to one spot to gossip, drink and plunder. The infamously known “Port Talon,” off the coast of Florida. Hidden away from prying eyes laid the port. Ships from all over the world docked there to trade and drink. Colorfully dressed men and woman of all nationalities made their way through the impressive port. Bars and shops of all shapes and sizes lined the streets. A strong tropical sun warmed the cobbled roads and cast shadows like puppets across the walls. If a visitor looked closely enough, he or she would have been able to see a tiny speck in the distance, but what they didn't know was what death and destruction it would soon bring.

***

“Hell!” yelled a scrawny boy between the age of fourteen and fifteen as he pushed and shoved his way through the mob of seamen and pirates that formed around the local taverns that seemed to infest Port Talon.

This boy's name was Jonathan Cane, a local pickpocket who was abandoned in the cold streets of the port when he was only twelve by a good for nothing, scum bag pirate of a father after Jonathan's mother drowned at sea. But this was not of Jonathan's concern at that time as a raging, sweaty and foul mouthed pirate chased him. Jonathan not only cheated him at a game of poker but afterwards got caught at trying to extract gold coins from the potato sack the man called pants.

He dashed down the street, expertly weaving his way through the throngs of people.

“What an idiot,” he thought sarcastically. “I could do this all day.”

But his sudden dash stopped abruptly as the man's friends cut him off and surrounded him. Jonathan's eyes widened.

“Hell, this is just not my day.”

The smell and foul odor that secreted from these men was intolerable and Jonathan's nose crinkled. He spat and raked his hands through his brown, wind blown hair.

“You are in trouble now boy,” the ugly ass that Jonathan cheated said as he completed the circle that surrounded him.

A knife flashed through the air and narrowly missed Jonathan's head.

“Okay, okay, how about I give you back a quarter of your coins and you let me live?” Jonathan asked desperately. He started backing up but bumped into a solid mass of pirate behind him.

“Not happening,” the pirate blubbered.

The man approached Jonathan. A look a of pure anger criss-crossed his sunburnt, scarred and all around ugly face.

“I'm gonna make you pay, boy,” he spat in Jonathan's face.

On-lookers pointed and whispered, placing bets on who would die first, the fat ass or the pickpocketing rat. The pirate charged, Jonathan sighed at the mans lack of caution and side stepped him easily, throwing his knee at the mans groin. The man stumbled, cursing, clutching his family jewels. The sun beat down on Jonathan's face. His blue eyes glowed mischievously as the man got up for another round.

“Why you little,” he grunted.

In a flash Jonathan slammed his elbow into his face, but the man wasn't caught off guard this time. He grabbed Jonathan's hair and slammed his skull into the ground. Red sticky blood poured from his nose but the man didn't let up. He kept smashing it into the cold grey street. After a while he stopped and freed Jonathan from his grip. Bloody and beaten, Jonathan's anger flared as he got back up.

The man smiled menacingly, “Back for more?”

But this time, Jonathan wasn't going to go easy. He grabbed the mans shirt and with a grunt, smashed him into the street, head first. Onlookers gasped as blood poured from the pirates split skull. Jonathan made a cross over his heart.

Most onlookers groaned as they passed on the money they bet against Jonathan to the locals, who knew his true strength, that he wasn't a stranger to a fight. The group that surrounded Jonathan passed nervous glances, then left without even a blessing towards their dead comrade.

“Pirates,” Jonathan spat disgusted towards their lack of respect for the dead. “They're all just like my dad.”

Bloody and battered, Jonathan entered a foul smelling and greasy bar. He smiled in triumph as he made his way over to the bartender. A man who acted as a father figure to the boy ever since his real father dumped him on the island. After he was abandoned, Jonathan was starving and dehydrated. Bruno the bartender took pity on the alone, crying boy and took him in as his own. He taught him how to pickpocket, hold his own and fight like a man.

“You sure got smacked around today,” he grunted.

A thick german accent smothered Bruno's voice making it hard for newcomers to understand him, but Jonathan was used to it. Jonathan flashed a crooked smile and pulled out his plunder of the day; a newly polished iron knife (the one that was thrown at him earlier); twelve pounds and a pearl necklace he snatched off one of the richer visitors to the island. Bruno whistled and ruffled Jonathan's hair with his big meaty hand.

“Good job my little Taschendieb.”

Jonathan smiled as Bruno took the items from the old oak counter and transferred them to a box titled Loot We Can Resell.

In exchange for providing Jonathan with a place to sleep, Bruno sends him off to pickpocket and bring the items back to the old bar to sell for twice it's worth. Jonathan ascended the old creaky stairs that led up to the guest wing of the bar, made for overnight visitors, but also the location of Jonathan's room. He made his way down the water stained, old oak hallway. The smell of cheap rum covered every inch of the old building, but to Jonathan, it smelled like home. He pried open an old oak door with rusted out hinges. The room behind it was no better. Beer stains covered the walls and the smell of rat pee smothered the place. Cooped up against the left hand corner stood a single bed with blood, urine and beer stained sheets.

Jonathan sighed, it wasn't much, but to him it was better than sleeping in the streets.

“Damn,” he winced.

He had stepped on a nail with his dirt covered feet. He trudged over to the borrowed opening in the wall and climbed out. Hanging from a jutted out piece of metal, he hauled himself up to the old tin roof and gazed out over the port. A salty wind tousled his brown curly hair. He saw the sun set over the ocean in a colorful array of orange and red that made the water look like a beautiful painting.

He sighed, “Someday I'll get you dad...someday.”

Night came quickly and Jonathan's eyes began to droop. He laid down and soon fell asleep on the old tin roof. The hot tropical air kept him warm even at night.

Jonathan dreamed of hot flames engulfing a ship, yelling and screaming surrounded him. People pushed and passed him as he was knocked to the ground.

“MOMMY!” he cried. “MOMMY!”

Soon he felt the soft embrace of his mother. He cried, scared and confused. “Shhhhhhh...Shhhhhhh,” she whispered. “It's gonna be all right, little one.”

But it wasn't going to be all right as the flames approached them.

“JUMP!” his dad yelled. His voice hoarse, “JUMP!”

But his mother couldn't leave Jonathan behind. She struggled with the young, panicking boy towards the only edge of the ship that wasn't covered in hot red flames. With the last of her draining strength she kissed his ash covered forehead and shoved him off the burning ship.

Jonathan watched his mother cry as he made his way towards the ocean, falling through the cold, night sky. The last thing he saw was his mother being eaten by the greedy flames. He hit the icy, pitch water and sank deeper and deeper until blackness surrounded his vision like thick clouds and the feeling of being crushed put his body through mind numbing agony, until darkness engulfed his entire being and he passed out.

The sounds of yelling and gun fire woke Jonathan up.

“Where's the boy!” a cold, menacing voice exclaimed.

“W-What boy!” the sound of a pistol going off silenced Bruno as the sound of footsteps across the hall struck discord into Jonathan's otherwise calm nature.

Panicking, Jonathan jumped off the roof and rolled onto the hard cobbled road. He swore. The roof was higher than he had anticipated. He felt it as he broke into a panicked dash. He turned around. What he saw, struck him at his core. He saw flames cover what used to be his only home. He also knew that he would never see Bruno again.

Tears slowly trickled down his face as he turned back to the matter at hand. Soon more screaming and gunfire followed as he ran through the deserted, dark streets. The streets soon glowed with light as the houses around him erupted into hot flames.

“I have to get to the port,” he thought desperately.

Smoke stung his eyes as he ran down the streets towards the port. The sounds of screaming and gunfire growing louder with each minute that passed.

“It hurts, it hurts,” Jonathan thought in agony as he breathed in more and more of the surrounding smoke.

His legs burned and his thoughts slowed. It felt like he was being roasted alive but he knew he had to live. He had to make it to the port. His bare, ash covered feet thudded against the cold, grey street.

Each second that passed, he inhaled more smoke and he soon felt the warm burning sensation of the fire reach out to him. He had made it to the port, he saw ships take off in a frenzy of panic. Jonathan saw one ship still docked, he thanked god and ran over to it. He crept on board, behind the life boats. The last thing that he saw before passing out from the smoke in his lungs, was a group of men coming out of the fire.

“How?” he thought confused. “Anything still trapped in the fire should be dead by now.”

But as Jonathan looked closer he noticed something that scared him more than the fire.

“No,” he thought. “They are already dead.”

He gasped for air when the smoke became too unbearable and as the darkness set in, the last thing he saw behind the foggy haze was the illuminated figure of a skeleton come out of the blaze, surrounded by a torrent of ash and fire.

“We got a stowaway!”

Jonathan bolted up as a man with long, unruly red hair and burly features picked him up and threw him out onto the open deck. As Jonathan scrambled up, the crew laughed at him.

“Oh ya think ya take on O'l hank do ya?” he laughed and stomped his boots on the polished oak deck. “Well, just give it yer best shot!”

Jonathan dashed low to the ground and used his forward momentum to send his body like a cannonball towards the mans legs. But to his surprise, Hank brought his own foot down on Jonathan's head before he could get any farther and brought him crashing down to the deck. Jonathan struggled but the smoke from the night and his injuries made him weak. The pirate brought a knife toward Jonathan's head. Jonathan cringed and thought it was over, but the feeling of being stabbed never reached him.

The pirate smiled crookedly and released Jonathan out from under his boot.

“Well boy, looks like I spared your life, which means you owe me!” he paused to think for a moment.

“Your gonna be the new cabin boy!” he brimmed like being a cabin boy was supposed to be an honor. Jonathan could tell that this pirate only wanted his man strength and that he wouldn't be paid a cent. Jonathan needed to get off this bloody ship

“Like hell I am,” Jonathan spat.

The pirate frowned.

“That's Captain Hank to you, boy,” he warned. “Don't forget I can take your life just as fast as I saved it, so don't go foul mouthing me, boy.”

Grudgingly, Jonathan accepted his life as a cabin boy. He decided that the first place they docked, he was going to make a run for it.

The wind blew Jonathan's hair and the smell of the ocean calmed him. He liked sailing... just not with pirates or as a cabin boy.

“Put these on,” Captain Hank ordered as he threw Jonathan a tight grey shirt, a pair of baggy white pants and a white sash that went around his waist, that could also be used as a bandana to help shade yourself from the hot tropic sun.

“You're lucky,” he grunted. “That was the ships last scrap of clothing, ya better make 'em last.” Jonathan stripped down and put on the clothes.

“Your first order of business is to make yourself familiar with the rest of the crew. We don't want them thinking that your just a scrawny land boy who can't fight, now do we?”

Big burly men covered in painful looking tattoos made their way around the ship, keeping rigs secured and making sure that they were on the right course. A warm, orange sun glowed brightly, illuminating the ship like a beacon of heat. Three giant masts stood in the center of the ship. Each waved brilliant white sails that caught at the warm wind and propelled the ship evenly towards their destination. At the top of one of the masts stood a solitary crows nest, Jonathan smiled.

“Finally,” he thought. “A way to get away from these pirates.”

He took a quick look around. Fox-like, he made his way over to the largest mast and began scaling it. The wind blew at Jonathan mischievously.

“Keep going,” he thought. “Almost there. I'm not worried.”

But he was worried. He knew if he fell from this height, he would die. Determination and pride kept Jonathan from not going back down. He kept climbing. Around him he saw the great vast sea and the sun's rays reflect against the smooth, blue surface like a mirror. He heard the screech of gulls that circled the giant wood ship, feeling the sun on his face Jonathan smiled as he continued up the mast. His baggy white pants blowing in the summer breeze. Jonathan sighed with relief when he made it to the crow's nest; a small two person platform that looked over the vast blue water. He grabbed onto one of the old wood railings, he began hoisting himself up but froze when he saw a girl near his age looking out over the ocean.

Her brown, wavy hair blew with the wind and Jonathan noticed she was better dressed than the rest of the crew. She wore a fine white dress shirt with gold buttons and a red silk sash, tied around her waist that acted as a belt to support baggy, black pants. But what intrigued Jonathan most of all, was the beautiful gold scabbard that hung around her waist, which likely held an even more stunning knife.

“That would fetch a pretty pound if I could get it before we docked in port,” Jonathan thought with a crooked grin.

He then hoisted himself up with a grunt and landed with a thud inside the crows nest, next to the girl.

She spun around, startled and glared at him.

“What do you think you're doing?” she asked with an elegant accent that hinted perhaps she was from Spain.

He smiled, “Just making myself acquainted with the rest of the crew like Captain Hank asked me.” Jonathan knew he had to get close to this girl if he wanted that dagger.

“No, no and no,” she said haughtily. “I am not going to be friends with a cabin rat like you.”

She eyed him up and down, “Ugh you smell of rum.”

Jonathan hated the girl already. He knew he would have no emotional problem stealing the knife from her pompous hands. They continued standing in silence, each one trying to ignore the other as they looked over the calm sea. Finally, the silence was broken as Captain Hank called Jonathan out for his first job.

“Goodbye little rat,” she called out, smiling and mockingly blowing him a kiss.

“Monello,” Jonathan muttered angrily in Italian, the language his father taught him. English being the one he grew up around and understood the most, on the other hand.

As he descended the mast he felt something thick and slimy hit his hair. He jerked his head upward and saw the little princess leaning over the mast. Her laugh irritated him as she took full enjoyment of having spit at him. Annoyed, Jonathan continued down the mast toward Hank. Eventually he hit solid deck and made his way over to the old captain. Hank's face brimmed.

“Should of warned ya before I let you go up there, huh?” he said, “She's quite the beauty ain't she?” he proclaimed proudly.

“...Yeah, she's something all right,” Jonathan replied sarcastically, smoldering his anger.

Jonathan was soon sent off to clean the cabins. A dirty rag and bucket of water were thrown at his feet.

“Now hop to it,” Hank said.

Jonathan wandered over to the lower deck, where the cabins were situated. The smell of alcohol was everywhere in the lower deck. Jonathan continued through, room by room, cleaning each one until they were spotless. He stopped at a room that caught his eye, though. This room was different than the rest... but what? Confused, Jonathan continued cleaning until it came to him. This room didn't smell of rum and on closer inspection it was bigger than the rest of the rooms. Jonathan looked around the room again. In the right hand corner was a giant four poster bed with lavish, red silk curtains and next to it an old oak chest that was masterfully carved with a depiction of a stormy sea. Jonathan dropped the rag and made his way over to the chest. He studied it for what only seemed like minutes.

After a while, he exited the room and made his way through the old stained hallway. When he made his way up the creaky stairs to the upper deck, what he found surprised him. A giant, full moon illuminated the night while stars twinkled and danced in the sky. He had been studying the chest for almost eight hours.

“What was in that chest?” he thought. “And why keep it away from the rest of the treasure?” confused and tired, Jonathan made his way into the dining hall; a giant room with a long dining table in the center of it. The sounds of drunken laughter echoed across the great hall as chefs entered the room from the kitchen that extended out of it. Jonathan's mouth watered as lamb was passed around the table, beginning with the captain and ending with him. Jonathan sat at the table, next to a boy maybe two or three years older than him, who was busy drinking his third mug of rum. Jonathan looked down at his portion and frowned. He saw a single piece of fatty meat and a slice of stale bread sit on a dirty wooden plate in front of him.

“What the hell's this?” Jonathan said, appalled.

“Food,” replied the boy, his face flushed with alcohol.

Jonathan was not amused.

“Don't they give us bigger portions?” he asked.

“Not unless you suddenly become the captain,” the boy answered.

Jonathan wolfed down the food, exiting the noisy hall in annoyance.

“Bunch of selfish pirates,” he muttered to himself, tired from the long day.

Jonathan wandered over to the cabins and made his way down the long hallway. As he turned the corner, a pair of hands grabbed him, pulling him to the floor.

“Bloody-.”

“Shut up rat!” hissed an unmistakable Spanish accent.

Jonathan struggled until she finally released him.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“I'm gonna sneak into the captains room,” she said excitedly, her green eyes glowing mischievously. “You want to join me?”

Jonathan smiled crookedly, “A chance to get back at ol' Hank?...I'm with ya.”

The pair made their way through the hall until they reached the captains quarters. The girl opened the door, motioning Jonathan to follow. Jonathan gasped. This was the same room he was inside earlier. To his surprise the chest was gone and a small table marked where it once stood.

“Rat,” she ordered. “Stand guard while I look for what I need.”

Even if he was annoyed by having to take orders from her, he stood guard by the old oak door.

After almost five minutes of standing there, Jonathan heard voices coming down the hall, accompanied by a lantern shining in the darkness.

“Hide!” he hissed.

“Give me another second!” she whispered back franticly.

“Hell!” Jonathan spat in panic while he took her down to the floor and shoved the both of them under the giant bed.

“What do you think you're-”

“Shut it!” Jonathan hissed as the footsteps entered the room. Quietly, the pair listened to the conversation that stood between them and the door.

“Good. They took the chest to the lower deck.”

“Wait. Why did they take it to the lower deck again?” One of the ship hands said ignorantly.

“Idiot, if he took over the ship, we need to make sure he will never find the sword.”

Confused, Jonathan listened even more intently.

“Don't worry. Alexander, has more evil things to do than go looking for us. Like kicking puppies and eating little kids.”

“Idiot don't say his name!” the other ship hand whispered. “Who knows who could be listening!”

“Alexander... why does than name sound so familiar?” Jonathan thought. “And why would they have to hide the chest in the first place?”

His thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of the men exiting the room. He could feel the warmth of the girls breath on his neck as they waited there for another minute to make sure that the men had truly left.

Finally, Jonathan mustered the courage to poke his head from under the bed. When he saw no one, he gave a thumbs up to the girl. Climbing out from under the bed, Jonathan's thoughts were in full swing.

“Why would a man named of Alexander want the chest?” he thought. “And does it have anything to do with the burning of Port Talon?”

*Smack* Jonathan's right cheek burned and he swore.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked angrily.

“I told you to stand guard not shove me under a bloody bed. You stupid rat!”

“My name is not rat, it is Jonathan, you cheeky brat!” he spat.

“W-well my name isn't cheeky brat, it's Sasha you insolent boy!” She replied, quickly.

Jonathan glared at her as both of them made their way through the hallway and back up to the deck. Jonathan thought he hated Sasha, but deep inside he knew that he had made his first friend on the ship.

A cool night wind blew Jonathan's brown curls, making him shiver. He went over to the mast that supported the crow's nest. Craning his neck upward, he knew he had to sleep somewhere. The crow's nest seemed like the best option at the time. He began scaling the giant mast yet again, grabbing the rusty rungs that lined upwards towards the nest. The giant moon illuminated the boy and gave him just enough light to see each rung in front of him. Tired, Jonathan felt relief when he saw the platform that would be his bed for the night. With a sigh, he pulled himself up onto the nest and set himself up so he was leaning on a hard, wooden bar. He quickly fell into a troubled and restless sleep.

Heavy breathing and swearing soon followed after Jonathan had fallen asleep. Two hands gripped the wooden railings, illuminated by the moon. Sasha pulled herself up, a grey wool blanket tied to her waist. She threw the blanket on the sleeping Jonathan.

“Stupid rat,” she said quietly. “...You'll catch a cold.”

And with her final words said she descended the ladder, almost seeming to melt back into the cold dark night.

Disoriented and gasping for air, Jonathan's eyes opened with a shock. He saw his father; red faced and tear stricken. Jonathan was soon told of his mothers death and how his father had barely saved him from being drowned. Realization soon set in and the young Jonathan began crying salty tears. His usually bright blue eyes now a depressing icy ocean of despair that sent chills down the spines of anyone who dared look into the boy's eyes. Years passed through Jonathan's life before his attitude towards things changed. To him the death of his mother was the past. He must look to the future. Each and every day was a new adventure to the now eleven year old boy. He would sail with his father and go exploring with new found friends whenever his father's new ship docked into a port.

Life was perfect until one day, his father's own blue eyes began to shift from his son and his wife’s death, towards evil. What used to be a grand adventure for Jonathan was now a struggle to hold onto his own father's slipping sanity. But his father kept falling further and further from Jonathan and the rest of the world until one day, he finally snapped. Jonathan's father held a sick obsession with the occult and Jonathan could see the darkness in his eyes. One day, on Jonathan's twelfth birthday, his father docked into Port Talon and told him to go buy supplies. Not wanting another drunken beating from his sick father, he obeyed. When he came back to the dock, his father and the ship were nowhere in sight and warm tears slipped down the young Jonathan's face.