Chapter Text
A soft morning breeze blew over the cliff top. The smell of salt hung in the air and soft splashes could be heard as gentle waves lapped against the rocky outcrop.
At the top of the cliff Charlie sat cross legged on the ground, motionless, his eyes focused unwaveringly ahead as he watched the creature in front of him. He barely dared to even breathe.
The small red bird hopped around on the grass, its chest puffed out and its beak held high as it surveyed the calm environment. Finally, having decided that it was safe, it began pecking and clawing at the ground in search of food. Charlie let out a content sigh, allowing himself to relax ever so slightly. He’d never seen anything like it before.
He slowly reached for his pocket and as quietly as possible pulled free his journal and its accompanying pencil. He placed the tip of the pencil against the paper and began to sketch a brief outline of the creature, looking up every now and again to not only check his accuracy but to also observe what the animal was doing.
He laughed under his breath when it finally found the meal it was looking for, its chest puffing out even more and its eyes bulging in the most peculiar manner as it ate.
Having completed his sketch, he began to jot down everything he could think of about the bird. It’s colouring, it’s size, it’s basic disposition and so on. Throughout this, the bird continued to hop around, its first meal clearly having not been enough.
Finally, he lifted the pencil up from his journal, smiling down proudly at his work. He chuckled as he reread his description on how the bird ate. With a sigh, Charlie placed his writing equipment beside him on the ground and brought his legs up to his chest. He continued to watch the bird. Having now had its full, it had stopped moving and was sitting on the ground, its head leaning forward slightly as it rested on the soft grass.
It looked so peaceful. He let out another sigh, how he wished that he could be like that bird, living a life of no worries in such a tranquil and beautiful environment, away from the stress of his work and the hustle and bustle of the ship.
Still, as he sat on the cliff top he couldn’t help but feel happy. Enjoying the stunning natural environment, observing and recording a new animal, these were the moments he lived for.
He continued to sit and watch until the sun became fully visible from the cliff top, its warm rays waking up the bird, who decided it was time to leave. He watched sadly as it flew away towards the ocean, becoming a small red blur and then, finally, nothing. The moment was over.
Forlornly Charlie collected his writing equipment and stood up. The ship was due to set sail at noon and, whilst he didn’t need to rush, he did need to get back to
the port. With one final glance at the place where the bird had been sitting just a few moments prior, he turned away from the cliff edge and began the walk back down.
Slowly he inched his way down the path, paying attention to his feet as he did so. The path was uneven and every loose pebble and jutting out rock threatened to send him hurtling over the edge to a watery death below. It was worth it though. He didn’t know when he’d next get the chance to enjoy a moment like this. The ship wasn’t planning to dock again for quite some time, at least a few months.
He let out a sigh of relief when he finally saw the town in the distance, the path levelling out and beginning to move away from the cliff edge. It seemed he would be avoiding a rather painful death today.
He quickened his pace as the path became completely flat, the first few buildings just up ahead. The treacherous nature of the route had caused him to take longer than planned to get back down, he hadn’t noticed just how perilous it could be when climbing up in the dark, and he now had less time then he would have ideally liked to walk around before returning to the ship.
He finally walked into the town, the grass and rock of the island being replaced first by dirt paths and then stoned streets. The buildings increased in number and soon he was completely surrounded by them, the warmth of the mid-morning sun being reflected off of stone walls and the reddish-brown roofs glowing.
Unlike his retreat to the cliff top this morning, there was little sense of calm here. Activity surrounded him and the noise was almost overwhelming as people set about their days. However, despite this apparent normalcy, something seemed off. He couldn’t work out what exactly, but the atmosphere had changed, it almost felt as if everything had been subdued. However, he brushed the thought aside, his mind focusing on what he had come to collect.
Eventually, Charlie set foot in the main square. The commotion continued here, a market having been set up, with various goods ranging from food to jewellery being sold under brightly coloured tents.
He headed towards a stall that he had had his eyes on for the last few days. After a few moments he spotted it, its dark green design making it stand out amongst the other much lighter coloured stands.
He smiled when he reached it, they still had the item he wanted. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a coin, then another and again another. It was expensive, very expensive, but he had been saving up for this for a while now. He handed the money over and was given a small bag in return.
His smile widened as he opened the bag just slightly to check the contents within. It was what he had wanted, copper dust. He closed the bag up, drawing in the strings as much as he possibly could, and put it into the safety of his pocket.
As he continued through the market, the smell of fresh fruit reached his nose. Charlie felt his stomach rumble. In his rush to leave that morning, he had neglected to eat. He looked around the market, surely it wouldn’t hurt to get something, just for once.
He headed over to a red coloured stand and looked at the offerings. He could see most of the common cheaper fruits which were commonly sold, guava, passionfruit, coconuts. Then a pink fruit which he had never seen before caught his eye. He looked at the price, it was expensive and he had already bought something today. He looked back at the fruit and swallowed, it looked so good and he really wanted to try it. He felt his self-control waver. This was a rare occasion he reasoned as he reached into his pouch and dug out a coin, passing it to the woman at the stand and picking out one of the fruit.
He quickly made his way through the rest of the market, doing his best to avoid the other customers milling around, the fruit held gently but firmly in his hand. He didn’t want to eat it in this environment.
However, as he left, he realised that his suspicion about the atmosphere had been correct. He began to hear panicked murmurs around him, and whilst he couldn’t understand the language, he could tell that something must have happened. That something was wrong.
He looked around warily as he walked, nothing currently seemed out of the ordinary. The marketplace was as vibrant and busy as ever, there was no sign of any disruption.
He tried to ignore the growing sense of anxiety, he supposed he would find out soon enough and right now he just wanted to enjoy his breakfast. After having finally reached the end of the market, he stopped and looked down. He smiled as he watched the fruit glisten. Out of the noisy and crowded marketplace, he could now properly enjoy it. He brought it up to his mouth and bit down into the soft flesh, a juicy liquid flowing into his mouth. It was sweet and exactly what he needed to brace himself for the coming months. He continued to eat the fruit, savouring every bite until, eventually, it was gone. He looked at his now empty hand with disappointment. He would love to have another, but that would really be pushing his earnings.
With one last mournful look back at the market, he continued on towards the port itself. Soon the smells from the market were replaced once again with the saltiness of the sea. He could see ships in the distance, their sails fluttering in the slightly stronger, but still fairly gentle breeze.
As the steps down to the port came into sight he stopped and looked up at the sky. Like everything else on this island it was peaceful, a light blue dotted with small wisps of clouds that drifted aimlessly. The occasional bird flew overhead. When they were back out at sea this would be gone, the calm weather and, even worse, the birds.
He tried not to let the thought get him down, he wouldn’t be able to survive the next trip if all he could feel was despair. He forced his feet to move forward. Just before he reached the top of the steps, his attention was once again drawn away from the ship. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an addition to the old, splintering wooden board that stood by the entrance to the port and served as a notice board. It was a wanted poster, one that nobody seemed able to escape.
On it was the face of a man, a face all too familiar to those who worked at sea. He stopped to take a closer look, the man on it almost appearing to smirk back at him. His expression was recognisable enough, let alone his long, tied back hair, industrial piercing and black tricorne with two feathers sticking out. Ewen Montagu.
As it currently stood he was the most wanted pirate in the entire Caribbean, the news of his numerous exploits and misdeeds spreading far. Encountering his ship was considered to be the worst fate of any merchant or navy crew. Few ever survived to tell the story, and the stories they did tell were shocking. The ridiculously high reward, which seemed to constantly be growing, simply reinforced this.
Charlie gulped as he read the last piece of information on the poster, his last sighting. Relatively speaking, it wasn’t that far from here, about a week north. That’s why a new poster must have been placed by the port itself and why the people in the town had seemed ill at ease, they were scared of a possible attack.
He looked back at Montagu’s sniggering face and felt his heart rate increase, with him being in the area he couldn’t help but worry about them encountering him, even though the chances of that were extremely low. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. He turned away from the poster, there was no point worrying about it right now. He forced his attention back to getting on the ship, he’d be disciplined if he didn’t get back soon.
Quickly he walked down the steps and into the port itself. He was greeted by a row of ships, some small, some large, most of which were moored against different piers.
He headed down to where he knew his ship was, even if he didn’t it was easy enough to make out. The ship was by far the largest in the entire harbour. Its substantial wooden hull was twice the size of any of the other ships. Three large wooden masts rose up from the deck, two white sails hanging down from each of them, waiting to be drawn when the ship set sail. On top of the middle mast flew a flag, the union jack. The ship was distinctive enough without it, but with it there was no doubt as to whom the ship belonged. The British navy.
He finally reached the ship, HMS Lancaster as she was named, and headed along the pier to board. He wasn’t the only one, there were around ten other men around him also hurrying to get on board in time. He walked up the thin wooden board that served as the gangway, compared to his walk down the cliff earlier it was nothing, and boarded the vessel. Around him it was chaos. Men were running around the ship frantically as they aimed to get it ready to sail before noon, lest they depart late and get into trouble.
He quickly recorded his name with one of the officers to confirm that he was back onboard, nearly getting injured on the way over as multiple men almost walked into him in their hurry to get the ship ready, one almost knocking him out with a plank of wood that he was holding. He was about to walk down into the ship to get to his cabin when he was stopped.
“I saw you get off early in the morning, Cholmondeley,” called out a voice. “What were you doing, meeting up with a lady perhaps?” There was a sound of sniggering around him. He didn’t react to the noise, he was used to it by now. None of the other men on this ship seemed to respect him, he was constantly harassed by them and used as the butt of their jokes. The apparent impossibility of him ever having a partner seemed to be the pinnacle of humour today. It was a particularly stupid joke. For one, it was against the rules to actually see women whilst off the ship and two, if his guess was right, the bird he had seen that morning was female, so he had in fact spent the morning with a lady!
He moved his head down and tried to focus on how clean the deck of the ship currently was. It wouldn’t do him any good to respond, all he could do was endure the harassment as best he could. It wasn’t all that bad he supposed, most of the men just ignored him rather than attacking him directly. “Ah Cholmondeley, you wouldn’t mind helping out with cleaning the deck, would you?” asked a different voice.
Recognising the voice he stiffened, slowly moving his head up to be greeted by the sight of the ship’s captain striding towards them, John Bevan. “Of course,” he responded, trying his best to keep his voice from shaking. “Perfect, it’s just the bit by the bow that’s left,” he said, pointing towards the front of the ship, “as for the rest of you, you can get back to your own jobs.” There was a chorus of “yes, captain,” and the men around him dissipated as they returned to their duties. Bevan gave him a quick nod, before leaving as well.
He sighed and began the trudge towards the front of the ship, whilst he was glad this had gotten him out of that situation, he wasn’t a particularly large fan of mopping.
As Charlie reached the front of the boat, he noticed the culprit of Bevan’s request. A bucket of water and its accompanying mop stood solitarily on that area of the deck, the marks of mud and dryness of the deck surrounding it demonstrating how the area had yet been cleaned. He mentally cursed the person who had left it here to go and do who knows what else, and then picked up the mop and started swabbing. He worked the salty water into the deck, beginning to work up a sweat as he did so. When he had finished about half of the area, he stopped for a minute to regain his breath.
He looked around. He wasn’t the only one hard at work, the other men were finishing the final preparations needed to set sail. The six large white sails were beginning to unfurl, opening wide as they caught the wind. He could hear shouts as the men heaved on the ropes. He turned his attention back to the mop and the deck, ideally he wanted to complete this task before the other men would have to come up to the bow in order to bring up the anchor. After around five more agonising minutes he stopped moving the mop and instead leaned on it, looking down at his work. The light was now reflecting off of the shiny wooden deck and not a single speck of dirt could be seen. He’d done a pretty good job, if he did say so himself.
He straightened up at the sound of footsteps approaching and picked up the mop and bucket. He’d finished just in time, the anchor was about to be lifted. He quickly retreated from the area, not wanting to get in the way of those approaching, and headed towards the inside of the ship, wanting to abandon the bucket and mop and then head to his cabin. Halfway there, he stopped. The sight of the town and island that they had spent the last week docked at catching his eye. He had enjoyed this week so much, it had been a welcome break from the seemingly never ending ocean. But that was almost over. The ship shuddered and, with a loud groan, it started to move, slowly pulling away from the island. It was over. He stopped for a few minutes longer, watching as the island got smaller and smaller, soon he could barely make it out. With a final sigh, he decided it was time to go. Just before he went below deck, he caught one final glimpse of a bird flying through the sky. He wished that he could fly away from the ship. Charlie pulled open the old wooden door and stepped inside the room that he called home.
It was small and this combined with the furniture inside meant that there was little room to move around. On the one side lay his bed, or what he called his bed at any rate. It was just a raised wooden platform with a thin straw mattress, an equally thin pillow and an even thinner blanket. He always tried his best not to think of the more comfortable bed back in his parents’ house. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light level. The room was perpetually gloomy, a small porthole was situated in the centre of the back wall, but it let in little light, even during the day he would sometimes have to light a candle in order to see what he was doing. On the other side of the room lay something more important. Something which allowed him to have this room to himself and was his reason for being on this ship. His workplace.
A sturdy wooden table lay flush to the wall, a slightly less sturdy chair accompanying it. Various pieces of scientific equipment sat neatly on one side of the desk, vials, thermometers, magnifying glasses and so on. On the opposite side sat various large, heavy and well used books. In the middle was his writing equipment, ink and some expensive crow feather quills which his mother had given him as a gift when he left. Below them was a stack of paper. Charlie pulled out the chair to the desk, cringing as it scraped against the wooden floor, and sat down. He looked over towards his equipment and grimaced, remembering how happy he had been just that morning. He wished he was back out there right now, watching the birds and enjoying the nice weather and calming noises of the sea. But no, he was back on this wretched ship, surrounded by people who viewed him as nothing and carrying out work that was beginning to have little meaning to him, truly a joyous life. Oh, and there was now an actual possibility that they might run into the most dangerous pirate out there, things really couldn’t get any better! With a groan he placed his head in his hands. He was unnecessarily stressing himself out as per usual. He could get through this, just two or three more years and then he would be back on dry land and never have to set foot on a boat ever again.
He lowered his hands and leant back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling. He felt better now, though at the back of his mind one thing was still bothering him. He closed his eyes and tried to reason with himself. The chance of the ship encountering Montagu’s was slim. They were a few days away and heading in the opposite direction to where he had been spotted. He took a deep breath and slowly felt himself begin to relax. Realistically, there was no chance that they’d run into Montagu. Having calmed himself down, Charlie placed his journal on the desk. With a smile, he began to flick through it.