Werepirates Story Chapter 1

(1) Worse than pirates! (1)


A burly figure strode along the rotting collapsed decked quayside, his faded charcoal frockcoat flapping madly in the high wind. One eye, his left, was obscured with a black patch; the other had a greedy look about it. Every step he took, he was forced to drag his semi-dead leg behind him, the condition of the docks being as unhelpful as they usually were these days, causing it to catch on the ever growing number of uneven planks. His face was contorted with a livid open scar running from left temple to right cheekbone, cutting through his nose and eye. He seemed to have a constant scowl about his person, glowering at every person who walked past him. With a cutlass encrusted with the dry blood of the last poor soul who questioned his motives, and a pistol with a well worn handle, this man was obviously not to be messed with.

Over the last fifty years, the tiny hamlet had grown and transformed from a miserable, disease-ridden, spit of sandy metal into a miserable, overcrowded, cutthroat-infested town of over eight thousand. Only a select few roads had the privilege of being paved with tarmac, the rest were either made from rust or lined with cobblestones; stolen ballast from unsuspecting ships. The closely packed buildings were built from either rotting wood, corrugated steel or crumbling brick, or a mixture of the three, rude in their construction and crude in their purpose; an endless succession of grog shops, gaming places and bawdy houses. There were also a miniscule handful of legitimate merchants’ shops, and even a church at the most westerly end of town, even though it was seriously in need of repair.

As the man reached the end of the docks, he turned round the corner and ended up on a street with uneven cobbled ground; the man sighed, he muttered something to himself about what the cobbles will do to his gammy leg. His foot caught on one of the cobbles and he nearly ended up head over heels. His short temper began increasing slowly as he was forced to go hunting looking for an old ‘colleague’ of his who lived here.
“JONES! Where are ye?” The man yelled through the crowded street, passers by closest to him jumped back in fear and surprise, unwillingly allowing a small, terrified street boy to scamper forward towards the man.

Fourteen year old Davy Jones was a scrawny boy, he had no meat on him, gaunt looking with an unkempt air about him, His shoulder length blonde hair which looked dark gray with street grime was in its usual messy state, his green eyes had the look of a hardened street orphan within them, his skin was heavily tanned from the long hours out in the baking sun, the filthy rags draped over his skinny frame could hardly be recognised as the clothes they once were. The soles of his feet were hardened from walking barefoot all his life. He looked, and smelt, as if he had never had a wash in his entire life; which he probably hadn’t. The other orphans always went to Davy for tips about anything and everything. He knew the town like the back of his hand and he could reel off all the names of people to avoid and the best pockets to pick; but he still came to nothing next to the man bearing down on his skinny frame.

“What took ye so long?” the back of the man’s hand connected with the side of Davy’s face with such force that it threw him to the ground. The man picked him up and, holding him at eye level, asked if he’d remembered their deal. Davy shook his head rapidly.
“Well” the man replied smiling devilishly “Let me remind ye”.
People who were walking past would have caught small snippets of their conversation “. . . promised . . . went wrong . . . goin sailin . . . Nancy’s tavern . . . next week . . . map . . .”

Five minutes later, Davy found himself dodging gaps in the quayside on his way to Captain Tanacker’s ship. The ship looked like every other ship, pirate or not, that Davy had seen making port here before. The basics of the ship were the same as all the other ships: Four masts (Bowstrip, Foremast, Main mast and Mizzen mast, each with ratlines (rigging) ascending them on either side), Five decks (Forecastle deck, Main deck, Quarter deck, Sterncastle deck and Poop deck), Captain’s cabin, Mate’s quarters, Galley (Kitchen), Mess hall (dining room), Longboat (stored out on the main deck), Forecastle (directly under the foremast, on the main deck), Infirmary, Crew’s deck (where the rest of the ship’s crew sleep which runs the entire length of the ship, and where the Capstan is housed, minus the Orlop deck at the very front), The Brig (On-ship jail), Magazine (Where all the gunpowder is stored), Water casks store, Ship’s pumps and cannon shots (located at the bottom of the ship, under the Main mast), Cargo hold, sail room, and of course the main store room.
The only thing about the ship which was more than slightly unnerving was the condition of the sails; he’d never seen anything like them before: the material was almost skin-like in texture, mat black in colour with a hint of a metallic glint, blinding in the sunlight. Upon setting foot on the ship, a slight twinge of pain in the sole of Davy’s foot told him that the wooden deck was uncared for; and that, rather obviously, he had a splinter. The corrupted sweaty, unclean, rotting air full of dead flesh, both human and animal, was so bad that if he had been blind, Davy would have thought he’d walked into a solid wall. The crew were slightly younger than the law would allow, Davy thought to himself as he was given the tour.
Captain Tanacker abandoned him outside the infirmary whilst he made the ship ready to sail.
“Let loose the mooring lines!” Then, after a scuffle and the sound of running, Billy’s voice boomed through the ship a second time “Full canvas!”
“Ye’d better hold on t’ summit, Davy, the sea’s unforgiving at her calmest” a voice piped up from behind him somewhere.
Davy spun round on the spot to see who had addressed him “Sam? Sam Wilkes?” The two friends exchanged a quick hug before Sam showed Davy the ropes.

Sam Wilkes was one year younger than Davy. His skinny body could almost be called toned from the hard labour that he’d been doing for the last six months. His long blond hair was very light from the hours in the baking sun. His skin was quite heavily tanned for the same reason. His eyes weren’t quite hazel, but couldn’t be called brown either. Like most of the children on the ship, Sam was a heavy smoker. Also, like the children and the Captain, Sam was hiding one very large secret.

One hour later, Davy was up in the crows nest watching Europanta disappear into the horizon.
“OI! JONES” looking down, he saw Billy looking up, shouting at him “Stop daydreamin ‘n’ get yer arse down ‘ere afore I join ye up there ‘n’ throw ye down!” Davy sprung into action, ducking under the bar that circled round the nest, he immediately began half stumbling, half scrambling down the rigging; he jumped down the last few feet onto the deck and stumbled towards the Captain
“Y . . . Y . . . Yes, Captain?” Davy stuttered as he bent double, trying to catch his breath whilst standing to attention before Billy
“Wilkes’ll take yer place up there” he pointed back up the mast “Ye’ll be swabbin deck” Billy marched back to his cabin; leaving Davy kneeling on the deck with a hard brush in his hands and Sam climbing the rigging.

Europanta is one of five artificial islands whose inhabitance were the descendants from those who lived in an ancient group of countries which disappeared when the icecaps melted and the sea rose, back in 2025; Europanta’s inhabitance are those who are descended from those who lived in a group of countries that they called Europe, New Tazmalia’s are those who are descended from those who lived in New Zealand and Australia and Tasmania, Asifrica’s are those who are descended from those who lived in Africa and Asia, and then there’s Asmericas whose inhabitance are ancestors who lived in North and South America.

“Ship ahoy!” Sam’s voice drifted from the nest and reached the ears of the crew on deck. Everyone looked up, and then started running around preparing the ship in case the other was hostile; one sailor pushed Davy over and ordered him to fetch the captain. Billy was in his cabin sighing at a photo of him and his twin when both boys were twelve; when Davy knocked on the door, Billy jumped and quickly put the frame back into one of the desk draws
“In” Davy could have sworn he heard sadness in the Captain’s voice when he issued this command as he pushed the door open
“What do ye want, Jones?” The sadness was disappearing from his voice rapidly
“A ship, Captain” Davy’s reply sent Billy running for the door, pushing him over. As he arrived on deck, Billy headed straight to the main mast and looked up at Sam who shouted the position to him; Billy headed for the Forecastle where he was handed a telescope.

The enemy ship was not unlike theirs, but with plain white sails; the Captain saw it, then turned fumingly towards the crew, who were at their posts, awaiting his orders.
“False alarm, the bloody thing’s heading in a totally different direction” the crew groaned and started stowing all the equipment that had been gathered “WILKES!” Billy’s angered voice carried its way up to the nest where Sam was cowering in fear “GET YER ARSE DOWN ‘ERE NOW!” Sam slowly started descending the rigging towards, what he believed, was certain death. Sam reached the deck where Billy grabbed him, viciously tore his shirt off and told two other members of the crew to hold him to the mast, with his back facing Billy; another crew member carefully brought up the silver tipped cat-o-nine-tails, handing it to the Captain.
“Two dozen of the best, ter teach ye not ter lie” Billy drew the whip back and let loose the first lash; Sam howled in pain every time it struck, not unlike a wounded beast. The crew, furious themselves at him, enthusiastically counted with every stroke on Sam’s blood stricken back.

As the sun was setting, Billy reluctantly gave Davy permission to visit Sam in the brig, who was lying on his front on the wooden floor, so as not to be in any more pain than he already was. He painfully twisted his body slightly so he could see who the noise of the footsteps that were coming down the ladder towards him belonged to.
“You’re healing well, even thought they were made by, silver, was it?” Davy commented on Sam’s wounds.
Sam could only manage a short reply “Still bloody painful” he tried to sit up, but forced to giving in to pain, he soon gave up.
“The captain told me to remind you that it’s gonna be a full moon tonight” Davy told him
“I know. I look forward to seeing who he’s chosen to convert you” Sam smiled at the thought of it “I hope it’s Harry, he’ll make you squirm. Or Tom. He’s a nasty one, he is” If Davy was confused a minute ago, it was nothing to how puzzled he looked now.
“You don’t know what we are, do you?” Davy shook his head at Sam’s query. He explained “None of the crew, myself and the captain include, are what you’d call . . . human, know what I mean?” Davy shook his head a second time “Well. For the majority of us, the full moon means a change in character, literally. The entire crew can morph, transform, change, shape shift, etc; call it what you wish, but we change into beasts”
“Beasts?” Davy staring at Sam, wide eyed and terrified
“Putting it simply, what we are is, we’re worse than pirates!”