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A Pirates Life for Me

“Isn’t there some sort of maritime law against this?”
The idle chatter stops and the captain looks up at me. I’m sitting at his table, directly across from him. If I don’t think about it, the entire situation makes sense. Take the time to questions something and everything clouds over with a fog of confusion.
“Isn’t there a law against not working?” The captain asks.
“No,” I say. That argument snuffed to end this stupid game.
“If you don’t work you don’t eat,” the captain says. “If you don’t eat you die.” The captain puts a hand in the air and says, “Action,” he puts the other hand out, “consequence. That sounds mighty similar.”
“Like an unwritten law,” the steersman says.
Steersman?
Captain?
I’m beginning to feel too far removed from reality.
Standing, I say this out loud, “This is stupid. People don’t do this, Tony.”
“Sure they do,” the captain says.
“Normal people don’t do this,” I rephrase. “Eventually someone is going to come after us. What then?”
The table was already silent but it seems to have submerged even further into those murky depths. The captain casually takes a sip of wine. The action is done with purpose and god damn him it’s worked. Some how he’s regained the image of dignity and charisma.
“You’re free to leave the ship any time you want, Robert.”
I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to turn and leave but there’s a pause.
He continues, “After you go, what then? Do you go back to waiting in an unemployment line or do you take a job woefully substandard to your abilities? Are you gonna beg your ex-wife to take you back or are you going to sleep on the streets again? I’ve seen something in you Robert but that something wasn’t designed for the world out there. You belong here and the sooner you accept that the sooner we can get down to business.
“There’s a road of adventures ahead of us. All of us,” the captain stands raising his glass. “Where once we were the outcasts now we are a crew. Where once we were the social anomalies now we are a family. Each and every one of you has contributed something indispensable to get us here. This is our home, we built it, we run it and are its masters.”
At that the room erupts in a cheer. Glasses are clinked and wine is drunk.
I let myself fall back into the chair. The captain was right. There wasn’t anything left out there for me. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it. I sit quietly and sulk in my chair, the first mates chair.
More wine is drunk.
Then the rum is brought out.
There’s no telling what time it is but most of the crew begins staggering to bed after a couple rounds of, “What do you do with a drunken sailor.” The first lieutenant is still mumbling a slurred version of this when the captain begins speaking again. Some might call it rhetoric. Others might call it a speech. I tended to see it as a spoken manifesto.
“The world hasn’t allowed us much.” He was drunk but it wasn’t showing. “What can a person do when they don’t fit into social norm? I for one am not willing to give up and play follow the leader. Sure, this thing, this situation is insane but that’s why we’re here. In respects to how the world is run in capitalism and consumerism we are insane. We’re insane because we can’t hold a normal job and buy things on credit. I’m not going to say this is the correct solution but it’s the best solution we have. If we can’t be normal we’ll be the least normal as possible.”
For what seems like a moment I close my eyes. When I open them again the room is empty save for me and the captain.
He is talking to himself, “I feel like I’ve brought you all here on my insane Noah’s ark. This whole thing is some strange attempted at saving the last free thinkers of this world before the flood sweeps you all away.”
I pass out again.

I wake to find myself alone in an uncomfortable chair. There’s a pain biting into my spine and as I stand my muscles scream. Some traces of alcohol are still running around my system. That combined with the swaying of the ship makes the journey up top more difficult then it should be.
The muscles behind my eyes strain as I look up into the morning sky. The first shift is already hard at work pulling ropes and moving sails.
Someone says, “Morning, sir.”
I hardly acknowledge him. My legs are already carrying me to the port side railing. Looking down at the waves crashing by becomes mesmerizing.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here when someone yells, “Ship ahoy. Port side, two o’clock.”
I let my eyes glance to that point in the distance but I can’t see anything. There’s a man on the quarter deck with a telescope. It takes me a moment to climb up. He hands me the hunk of brass with out me having to ask for it. Again I look port side and this time I see it. A white beast glistening in the sunlight. Waiting a moment I try to gain some perspective on its size. I spot a woman on the bow of the ship pointing in our direction and saying something to a man who comes topside.
“Strike the colors,” I yell.
With out hesitation a deck hand pulls down the skull and cross bones.
On the other ship it looks like the man has a pair of binoculars. I think he’s waving at me.
“Wake the crew,” I order.
Going aft to the captain’s state room I give a courtesy knock before entering. The captain is lounging in a chair playing with Mr. Jeevus his pet monkey.
“Sir, we’ve spotted a yacht, maybe a hundred footer, on our port side. I’d say it’ll cross our bow within the next hour.”
“Well, we’ll just have to be in its way when it gets here,” the captain says.

The next forty five minutes are hell. With standing orders that no more than ten men can be on the deck at any one time I can hear the crew getting restless.
“He waved at you?” The second lieutenant asks.
This is the man that was a pirate before he was a pirate. Somewhere out there is a folder full of warrants for his arrest on the thousands of information piracy laws he’s broken. He was the man in the back of the theater with the handheld camera, the man with the serial numbers for software and the man with the passwords to most everything. As anyone might imagine of a man like this, he was thin. When I first met him it was an unhealthy layer of flesh on his bones. I can see now, muscle fibers over his thin frame.
“Yeah,” I say. “I almost laughed but I wasn’t sure I should. Those were expensive binoculars and he would have seen it.”
“Do you think they’re armed?” The second lieutenant asks. He’s rubbing his hand nervously over the hilt of his cutlass.
“More than likely,” I say. “But the biggest weakness about a weapon is that you only it them out when you’re expecting to be attacked.”
The yacht is close enough now that I can see people on the deck pointing and gawking at our huge wooden fish, this galleon. I can image what I’d be thinking if I came upon an eighteenth century ship while sailing in the middle of no where. In fact we counted on this. People can’t get enough of the novelty and most of the time they ask if they can come aboard just before we attack. It’s hard not to take pride in this beautiful vessel even if it is called The Zombie Mistress.
I order a course correction so as that we don’t intersect the yachts path but come along side it instead. The navigator makes some quick calculation.
“Sir,” he says. I go over to him as he points at a map. “On this new course we’ll be dipping out of international waters for a moment.”
“How far in?” I ask.
“Not much, sir. But if on the off chance a navy ship came by we wouldn’t have enough time to make it back out.”
“Do you honestly think an imaginary line will stop them from pursuing us?”
“Then should we break off, sir?”
“No Mister Reynolds, I’ve already made arrangements in the event we come across the authorities.”
“Yes, sir.” The navigator gives the steersman direction and the second lieutenant pulls me aside.
“Arrangements?” the second lieutenant asks.
I smile.

Slowly I’ve been pulling the crew on deck and ordering them to keep out of sight. The captain is at my side watching over things but keeping silent for the most part. Moments ago, I gave the order to drop our main sail and now we’ve come to a stand still. A couple men are lined up on the port side with ropes at the ready. An older gentleman with graying hair and a glass of champagne is standing directly across from the captain and me.
“A vast me matey,” the man says mockingly.
I’m about to say something when the captain replies.
“It’s nice to see some new faces. If you can imagine we’ve been out to sea for a while. I was wondering if you would like to join us for dinner tonight.”
There’s a woman at the man’s side who’s obviously half his age but sleeps in his bed.
She kisses him on the lips and asks, “Can we?”
The man shrugs and says, “Why not.”
“How many guests should we be expecting?” The captain asks.
“There are five of us. Not including the crew of course.”
“Crew,” I say. “How many people does it take to run that ship?”
“Only three but I can’t go anywhere with out my cook and my butler.”
That makes a total of ten I think to myself. The captain of the yacht might put up a struggle but the cook and the butler will go quietly. As for this man and his pampered socialites, they won’t know what to do.
“Throw us a line,” the captain says.
This is where our nerves are put to the test. I can almost feel the tension in the crew hiding behind me. Muscles tight and poised to strike at any moment. To their credit they maintain their position until the rope is secured, until the captain gives the order.
“Now!”
Suddenly one hundred men rear up and charge forward. The captain’s word is like the trigger of a gun. It takes me less then a second to leap into the other boat and grab the man and woman.

The only real struggle comes from an unsuspected source.
For several minutes the cook holds his ground by butcher’s knife. At this point everyone has been captured and our crew has the cook surrounded on the bow of the ship. Still, the man continues to yell and slash at anyone who comes close. If I had known the cook would turn out to be a burly Cuban I would have expected it.
The captain make is way forward through the crowd and squares off with the cook.
“We can stand here all day,” he says to the cook. “You may even take a couple chunks from my crew but the end result will be the same. You’re out numbered.” The captain draws his sword. “I won’t ask anything of my crew that I’m not willing to do myself.”
Now, toe to toe with the cook the captain’s face is steely determination. The cook drops the knife and puts his hands in the air.
“Mister Samuels,” the captain says to me, “if you’d be so kind as to take a party and search the ship.”
I point at a couple of men and we head below deck.
It’s all state rooms and marble. The epitome of hedonism. The search is uneventful. The yacht is filled to the gills with extravagant food and liquor. There’ll be a party tonight.
We’re somewhere in one of the store rooms when gunfire erupts. Everything in my body tells me to run above deck with sword in hand. Logistics wins over and I find a window to look out from. A couple meters to the aft is a navy patrol boat. A couple men with assault rifles are firing warning shots into the air.
A man comes onto a bullhorn, “Cease and desist. Lay face down on the deck with your arms spread.”
Someone on The Zombie Mistress has the main sail raised and the ship is building up speed. The crew is jumping across as the gap between the yacht and The Mistress grows.
There’s more gun fire as the navy patrol boat pulls along side the yacht. Several men board and I realize that it’s me and my three man party against four men and their automatic weapons.
I don’t think but give the order, “To the bow.” I push my men forward as the navy men hear my shouts, “go, go, go!”
I get topside just in time to see my last man jumping over board. It isn’t enough time for me. I can sense the muzzle of a gun pointed at my back.
“Don’t move,” a voice shouts.
I’m done. Captured and handcuffed. I’m dragged to the bridge and left to be guarded by a single man as the navy captain orders his men back aboard and they go racing after The Zombie Mistress.
Secure in the idea that I’m not going anywhere my guard leaves me to make his own search of the yacht. I’m lying on my side trying to wiggle my hands out of the cuffs but tearing my skin instead. When I’m about to give up I hear it. At first it’s the sound of metal swinging against metal then it’s a soft patter. Something climbs on top of me and makes a soft squeaking noise. Mr. Jeevus hops down into my line of sight and makes an anxious cry.
“Hey, wanna get me out of this?”
Jeevus gets excited. He pulls open his little vest to reveal a concealed handcuff key.
“You’re getting ten bananas for this.”
Jeevus screeches and climbs behind me. It takes him a moment but I(m free.
I get up and hit the throttle sending the yacht into the pursuit. I can hear my guard racing up stairs to see what’s going on. Before he can get through the door I put my fist in his face and he’s down.
The yacht has a lot of power in it making it easy to catch up to the two ship going just over ten knots. I throw the throttle up to twenty knots gaining fast. The navy boat is maintaining a short distance behind The Zombie Mistress. I can see the flash then hear the crack of random gun fire. The crew, my friends, my family has no chance. Barreling forward I’m not sure if the navy boat has noticed me. Maybe they just don’t expect it, they make no moves until seconds before I ram them. The hundred foot yacht sheers the fifty foot patrol boat in half. The sudden impact jolts me forward. There’s a quick flash of pain and I hit something.

I come to choking on a lung full of water. I’m motionless for a moment thinking about how the oceans has thrown my concept of time out of wack. A wave of water splashes me in the face springing me up into a sitting position. I’m on the bow of the ship and the ship is slowly sinking.
Mr. Jeevus has found his way onto a high point and he’s screeching madly. Standing is a struggle. There’s something wrong with me but I can’t figure out what it is yet.
“Time to abandon ship,” I say to Jeevus.
He agrees and jumps down into my arms. I grab a life preserver and go overboard. My first task is to get clear of the yacht before I get tangled and pulled under with it. My second task is to see if I can spot The Zombie Mistress. This is when I Realize I’m missing an eye.
During the crash I was thrown through the window.
That damn ship took my eye.
I think I pass out again.

I wake up looking into the face of the second lieutenant.
“Try not to move too fast,” he says.
“What about the other men with me?” I ask.
“Safe and sound, all of us...” The second lieutenant hesitates.
“What is it?” I ask.
“During the pursuit the captain...” He stops again.
He doesn’t have to finish I know what he’s going to say. I’m out of bed ignoring the difficulties of my loss in depth perception.
The captain’s state room is somber with the aura of death. Lying in his bed, semi-conscious the captain catches me entering. He waves me over. His torso is wrapped thick in bandages and still blood is seeping through.
“The hero of the day,” the captain says. “You look good with an eye patch. My hand goes up to my eye feeling the patch around my face. “I told you I saw something in you. I saw greatness. If I could pick anyone in the world it would be you. This is your ship now Robert.”

The captain died.
When the patrol boat started firing he ordered the men down and took the helm. He had taken several bullets to the chest for his effort. There was nothing anyone could do.
I’m standing on the bridge of my ship now with Mr. Jeevus crouched on my shoulder. We’re headed to an island to bury the captain. From there I don’t know where we’ll go but I do know there is no way back for me even if I wanted back.