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...
O'Ma adjusted Stalker's flabby body on his shoulder, cursing himself for being so magnanimous. He should have turned heel and walked away from the painted dunderhead. It would have been more peaceful on board without the constant cursing, the never-ending rants, and the occasional maniacal outburst. And it would have spared him a sweat and a presuntive back pain from carrying such a dead weight. But life at sea was mostly lackadaisical and one could always count on Stalker to turn things unexpectedly enthralling. Furthermore, he was more than a crew mate. He was family. Like a scary, retarded distant cousin, but family nonetheless. O'Ma sighed, gave a jolt to his relative'sbody, grabbed his arm to secure his grip and distributed the weight better on both his shoulders. Then he tried to catch up with his captain, striding ahead with Tiago and Dune.
Before he could reach them, the greasy-haired kid appeared at his side, without a word. O'Ma glanced at him. His face was pallid, his expression indecipherable. Yet, his eyes were too bright, misty with contained tears. O'Ma looked behind. No trace of the old man they had encountered outside the prison. There was a story there, one that Cap would eventually recount, after some cups of rum. One that the kid could enlighten too, but now was not the time.
"It appears that you will accompany us, is that correct, lad ?" O'Ma asked.
"Yes," was the only answer he got.
Knowing better, he didn't insist and turned his attention to the harbor spreading before them. Along the docks, small fishing boats rubbed hulls with merchant ships, bricks, and brigantines. They walked past a lonely caravel and, at last, the Lady appeared in the distance. They had landed in Puerto Seguro less than two days ago, yet a warm feeling bloomed in O'Ma's chest. He was coming home. The urge to get on board gave him a second wind. Even Stalker felt lighter.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
