There is nothing worse for a pirate than dying on dry land. Except, maybe, swinging two feet above it.
When their captain is imprisoned, facing the gallows, the men and women of the Lady Lesya's crew will try everything to break him out--even if it...
Flow paced the main deck while Jade tended to the other sailors—mostly to tell them to suck it up. The men were coming back on board, one by one or in little groups, after a long night of debauchery. Most of them climbed the footbridge just to collapse somewhere on the smooth, sun-warmed wood, sleeping as long as possible before orders started to ring out again. For now, the only thing that covered the racket from the docks was an indistinct voice shouting a drinking song.
...give me a kiss, I'm boozed up, and I'm loaded and I'm wasted and high.
On her knees, she went down and I only offered a pint...*
Even with the emergency at hand—and his persistent hangover—Flow was enjoying every second. Every order, errand and chore; every ragging, mocking, and mean joke; every skirmish, bruise, and cut; every heave, sway, and surge—even if it had meant throwing up a lot of stomach bile during the first weeks... All of it was better than his previous safe, boring, and cozy existence far from the sea. His life really begun a few months ago, at seventeen, when he embarked on the Lady Lesya.
He stopped pacing to look out at the open sea. From the pocket of his knee-length trousers, he plucked one of the stale biscuits he nicked from the galley. He flicked a few maggots away and nibbled at it, careless of the few still hiding inside the hardened flour. Somewhere far away, past the mighty ocean and half the French countryside, stood the abode where he had grown up. Father had surely forgotten his existence already, and passed his distant but severe tutelage to his second son, Benjamin. Mother, on the other hand... Flow, once Florian de la Dombe, pushed away the thought of her crying as well as his own tears.
He refused to have any regrets. Not now that he was living the life he had dreamed of for years. He remembered his resolve, strong as iron when he fled the mansion in the dead of night. He remembered his determination, unshakable during the long weeks spent in the dark, smelly, and overcrowded hold of a merchant ship. He remembered his obstinacy, tainted with fear, when he sat in front of the somber man that became his captain. The man that needed help today.
Flow grunted. How long did it take for a woman to dress? A flash of Alexandra's naked body turned his impatience to a stranger, warmer feeling for a brief moment.
When Alexandra finally reappeared, both surgeon and ship's boy gathered around her. She wore a white button-down under a tight green vest, and dark baggy pants tucked into high boots. The look on her face gave fair warning to anyone stupid enough to ever talk about what just happened. Flow's mind got the message immediately and locked away the incendiary images for a more private moment. He sorted his thoughts in the appropriate order to deliver the urgent information he bore.
Flow's mouth opened, but before any sounds came out, Alexandra ordered, "Not here!"
Flow's mouth closed.
"Cap's cabin!" the First Mate added. "You'll tell me everything there. And if anyone else learns about what happened to the captain before I say so..."
"Yes, ma'am!" Flow stood stiff as board, dangerously close to saluting.
Alexandra's severe eyes met Jade's gentle ones. "And that goes for you as well, Doc!"
"I'll consider it doctor-patient privilege," replied the ship's surgeon with a smile.
Alexandra crossed the deck quickly, Jade on her heels. They had already reached the sterncastle when Flow finally put his long limbs into action to catch up with them.
____________________
*Probably a song from Dropkick Murphys' ancestors
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
