Young Writers Society

The lamp is lit; a fist of light which seems to burn a hole in the dense blanket of night. It is raining and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks is like some great sea-dragon roaring in the churning ocean.

I look across at Ben who nods to me. This is it. We both step out of the hidden cave and I light our lamp. I swing it as I had been taught to mimic the motion of a ship at sea. The lamp is closer now and I am sure that even through the lashing rain which stings my cheek and blinds my eye I can see the shape of the boat forming.

A figure comes suddenly into focus as if he has stepped out from behind a curtain, I hold my breath. The figure sees us and douses his lamp. I keep mine swinging until the last moment possible. His boat stops a little way off the beach and Ben whispers in my ear, ‘Bye Sam.’

The man jumps out of the boat and splashes through the water towards me. He is a lot bigger than I had expected and he is wearing a grubby old shirt and trousers with holes in the knees. As he gets closer I see the long dark coat and long boots. He is important.

Ben pushes me in the back and I walk towards the man. As soon as I am within an arms length he grabs me roughly by the collar and drags me out to sea. I am part of the bargain. Their last crow-lad fell and now I am here instead, a fair price for the lives of a few others.

The sea bites at my legs and is soon up to my waist. The rain is so hard that for a moment I wonder if I am completely submerged. Then the man pushes me into the boat and I land upside down in the pool of rain and sea water which has collected there. We set off immediately and the man pulls me up into a sitting position by his feet where I cower and bow my head to protect it from the lashing rain.

I have been a pirate for two years now; I started when I was just twelve. My mother died and I had to do something, so I signed up as the crow-lad for the first pirate ship which came to port. I am used to it, but I know from the battle that this new crew’s ship is much bigger and more difficult to handle. Sadly, the small-boat journey is soon over and as I am forced to scramble up the ladder I find myself wishing to be back on the little boat, sat securely in my puddle.

My first view of the ship is a dark one. I can make out about twenty figures in the rain and the darkness. It seems to me that this is a crew of shadows. The large man comes up behind me and grabs me by the scruff again before throwing me down before one of the shadows.

‘Scrawny little scrap in’t he.’ The voice is deep but seems to cut through the rain and suddenly all seems to be silent.

‘You should’ve seen ‘im on them ropes, like a monkey ‘e is.’

‘Ay, well it be your call Higgs. If ‘e is of no use to us we’ll sell ‘im to some other crew.’

I can’t see anything because my hair and the rain are both in my eyes and then I am picked up again and the big man addresses me. ‘What be your name lad?’

My fingers are numb from cold and I stutter as I reply, ‘S..Sam sir.’

‘Right, Sam, you best be gettin’ up there then.’

He didn’t need to point. I blink as I focus on the mast and the cargo netting for me to climb up.

I walk over to the netting briefly glancing out of the corner of my eye towards the shadows which formed men. Nothing was particularly odd about any of them; they all looked quite similar to the pirates on my previous ship.

I reach the cargo netting all too soon. As I climb I notice the good condition of the ropes. The old crow-boy obviously took good care of them when he worked up there. The bare pole of the mast is all that is left now. There are metal hoops protruding from the wood where there once was a rope. It is obvious they have taken it down on purpose. They want to see just how good I am.

Taking hold of the pole with both hands I nimbly bring the soles of my feet up to the wet wood. I never wear shoes; bare feet provide the best grip on any surface. I move the left hand and right foot up and catch the pole again, then I do the same with the right hand and left foot, in this way I jerk up the mast and each time my foot or hand finds a metal loop I curl a finger or a toe inside it and I gain a little more height.

Then, suddenly the crow’s-nest is there. There is a trap-door above my head so I push it open with one hand and with one fluid movement I pull myself up inside and drop the door shut. I survey my surroundings; this is to be my space for the next few years. It is a little bigger than my previous nest, but the sides are lower and all of a sudden I notice just how much this ship sways in the rocky seas. I cannot see the deck below me but I can hear a loud voice struggling to make itself heard as it barks out orders to the crew below.

There is a metal casket by the mast and I open it finding an old tricorn hat, a spyglass, a compass and a metal cage attached to a thin piece of rope. I firmly fit the hat onto my head and ponder what the cage is for. The string is long, long enough to… oh; it is to send down messages when the weather is bad or for any cuttings of map to come up from below. I laugh, on my old ship I had to scurry up and down to deliver messages and receive pieces of map.

I take out the compass and it reads a North-West bearing. I know that I won’t see much in the weather but sometimes another ships lights can be seen or the lights of a town. The spyglass is cold around my eye socket and sure enough there is nothing much to see. There are a few twinkling lights to the East but I know that those come from the town where my last ship had docked last night to make the exchange. I frantically squinted through the spyglass for any last fleeting glimpses of my old ship and crew.

Nothing, they must have doused the lamps.

*

It is morning and now I can only see the coast through the spyglass, and even then, it is still far away. Below me the crew are cleaning out the ship after last nights’ storm. The crows nest had begun to fill up a little so I picked out a small hole in the base for the water to escape through.

I haven’t talked to anyone else since last night. The captain is visible at the wheel and I can see the large man in the long coat stalking around the upper deck shouting at anyone who stops working.

My life here so far has been relatively easy. I check the horizon again for any signs of possible prey but seeing nothing, I decide to check the mast and ropes for damage.

I slip down through the trap-door and grab the mast. I move around the mast checking for any splinters or weathering and then move down to the main top where I can check the ropes which hold the sails. I walk slowly and carefully along the Main Yard and I notice that there is a piece of rigging which is wrapped around the top of the main sail but doesn’t appear to be attached to anything at one end.

I ignore this and check the rest of the rigging, all is well and I move back to the topmast and I saw the rope which should lead up to the crows nest next to the lubber’s hole. They hadn’t un-tied it so I take hold of one end and pull myself up the topmast pushing parts of it through the small metal loops.

Once I am finished I look down and see the shroud and ratline running all the way up from the maintop up to the crows nest. That makes it much easier to climb up and down the topmast. I notice that one of the footropes needs to be ‘rubbed’ so I slide down a shroud and landing on the main top swing down onto main deck. I make a thump as I land and the crew members’ closest look up and a few raise their eyebrows, evidently the old crow-lad never jumped or swung from anywhere.

I spot the tall man coming towards me and I hold my breath.

‘What do ya’ want lad? Y’ur mummy?

‘No. The footrope needs ‘rubbing’ where do you keep the fat?’

The man raises an eyebrow at me and turns sharply away. As he walks he points at a small metal casket at the base of the mast. It is similar to the one in the crows nest.

I feel the eyes of the rest of the crew burn into my back as I walk over and pull out the jar of greasy fat. Then I catch the piece of rope I swung down on and I tuck the jar into a loop on my belt. Then I scurry up the rope and then, looping my ankles and hands over the footrope I dangle from it move then I move quickly along it going headfirst until I come to the frayed piece of rope. Then I catch hold of the main yard and swing my knees up and over it. I let go and I am left hanging upside down off the main yard with both hands free.

‘I tol’ ya ‘e was good Captain!’

The man with the long coat shouts up to the Captain at the wheel.

I smile to myself, pull the jar out of my belt and start work.

*

The forecastle is mucky and damp. My hammock is in the corner away a little from everyone else. The crew are drunk and there have already been two fights although it is only a few hours into the night. Two pirates shout at each other, their speech slurred beyond recognition and one of them breaks a bottle and charges at the other. The ship lurches on a large wave and everyone falls out of their hammocks.

I lie on the floor and watch as the two pirates are pulled apart. One staggers in my direction and throws the bottle towards me, I duck just in time and the bottle smashes on the side of the room.

The pirate grabs me by the scruff of my shirt and drags me across the floor, I struggle a little but I know that I should save my energy in case there is a fight.

‘Who’s this lil’ rat then?’ He shakes me and I see stars.

‘Leave ‘im alone, ‘e’s just the crow-lad.’ Says a pirate I don’t recognise.

The man holding me shakes me a bit more then throws me on the floor.

‘Nah, lets make ‘im run!’ He staggers after me but my senses are clear of the dimming effects of alcohol and I move easily out the way. He takes a knife out of his belt and I know I am in trouble. He lunges towards me and I vault a barrel to avoid him, two years of working on the masts had made me flexible, strong and fast. Then I spot a beam which runs across the length of the forecastle. I jump onto the pole of the nearest hammock and using the same technique which I used for climbing the masts I reach the beam and climb onto it. I am now out of his reach. He jumps at me and brandishes his knife a lot but on the second jump he lands awkwardly and falls on the floor in a drunken slumber.

I jump down from the beam and decide that I am going to sleep up in the crows nest. I climb the ladder onto the main deck and then I use the rigging to climb up to my safe haven. No one else seems to come up here and I have already worked out three different escape routes other than the trapdoor. I lean with my back against the mast and catch my breath. I check through the spyglass for any lights. Nothing.

I slide my back down the mast and pull my hat over my eyes. Sleep comes easily even up on the draughty crows nest with the slow tilting of the ship and I slip away quickly.

*

It is not yet dawn, and I stand up feeling the cool, fresh sea air ruffle my hair and I stretch to shake off the last few tendrils of sleep.

I lift the spyglass to my eye and instantly I see the prick of light on the horizon. A ship, this means prey.

‘Ship ahoy!’ I yell as I scramble down to the main top where I jump down onto main deck. There is no one else about so I grab the bell and ring it. The sharp sound cuts through the night like a knife and jars in my ears. ‘Ship ahoy! Ship on the horizon!’ I shout once more.

There is still and then suddenly the Captain thumps out of his cabin and the rest of the crew flood out onto the deck after him. Suddenly there is only movement and men.

The Captain grabs the spyglass from my hand and I point to the north. He thrusts the spyglass back into my hand and goes back into his cabin. He returns carrying his larger spyglass and looks through it. He pauses and the crew seem to hold their breath as he reads the flag.

‘Gentlemen.’ He turns to look at the crew and sneers, ‘We have some merchants to catch.’

~SishBee~

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