The Pirate's Revenge

2-Port Smith

          Port Smith was founded 60 years before my time. The island is small, humid year round, and covered in insects, but it has been my home my whole life. It started out as a smaller outpost for ships that traded sugar cane back to the old world. But by all maps of the area, it is strategically placed for two reasons: tropical storms tend to dodge the area, and its high cliffs and fort make it a hard target for the enemy. Pirates.

Too many different gangs to keep straight, they were the feared here like the plague. I had grown up with a father who had hated them, especially after my mother died. His ships were frequently targeted, and he had lost thousands in money, hundreds in men, and tens of ships to different gangs roaming the sea.

My dad was the most respected and hardened man on the island, with a long beard and stout stature. I had learned to keep my distance, and when that was unavoidable to keep my silence. He and I had nothing in common, and had learned that long ago. The last time we spoke was two weeks ago. A conversation that ended with a bruised cheek and me locked in my room for two days. I am supposed to marry Phillip Smith, son of the royal governor of Port Smith. It not only secures my father as the main merchant of the islands, but puts him in a position of greater influence over of the Indies and the Atlantic sugar trade. It is something that could have happened a year ago, and something that I will put off until the last possible moment.

. . .

Arista babbled about everything our dad had told her about the galleons on the way there. Arista had asked to be taken aboard a merchant ship, one that was headed to England tomorrow. Father of course had granted her the wish. It was about a 25 minute walk to town, down the hot rocky path. In town, a lot of it was cobblestoned, but out here was still dirt. The heat was bad, but after living here, I knew that it was bearable, there were days that were complete hell. Down by the docks, ocean air made it better and cooler too, I kept my thoughts on that.

After a while, we came off the road and entered the merchants district of the port. Arista grabbed my hand with excitement. I was never sure what exactly it was that made her love a city so much. Most of the buildings were one story, but closer to the docks, they were doubled. The street we were on was cobblestone, beside us, a man walked a pack mule with boxes on top of its saddle, the animal's hooves clacking against the stones. Arista held my hand, and dodged her way around kids chasing each other across the road in front of us, a small dog in tow. The people who lived in this area of town were generally poor, and worked trade jobs. Mothers swept off porches, and cats slept lazily in windows. Arista and I turned down a side street, and made our way from the path onto the main road of the bustling port city. In the distance, I heard the fort bells sound noon. Arista gazed at the wooden shingled shops and restaurants and two storied inns. Still as fascinated as she always was. Sweat dripped down my spine under the thick fabrics of my dress. I nodded my head to those who recognized me as Callista Adley.

"Callista! Oh Callista!" Arista tugged on my shirt hard pointing at the bakery. I watched as she bounded towards the window of the bakery, then grimaced into the sun. Noon was the worst time of day. Chickens clucked nearby, and the sound of ships bells chimed. I glanced down the street, all the way to the harbor, and recognized it as the Agnes. The ship my dad would be returning from Haiti on-named after Arista's mother. I sighed as Arista returned excitedly, clutching a sugar cookie the baker had given her. She smiled, and I took her hand and led her down the street to the docks.

The tall captain stood at the helm of his ship, tasting the wind. In his hands was the wheel, he had control of the whole ship. Below him, his crew moved about furiously, carrying out tasks he assigned as fast as possible. They all knew his wrath if they didn't.

"Three days, cap't, before we make landfall." He heard the first mate say. The young captain narrowed his gaze to the horizon. He had a mission, orders, and he had his own mission, and his own orders.

"Aye, Killian. As you were."

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

The first mate inhaled sharply, scared at his next words. "As a friend, I ask your permission to tell the men the true plan." The first mate offered.

The young captain snapped back, and turned his head to face his challenger. "No! That will be up to me and no one else you fool!"

Killian tried not to show his fear. He swallowed. "Aye, Captain Daniels." The captain stared out across his deck, before turning back to the wheel.

"Get away, Killian, before I have to beat sense into you." He left without having to be told twice. The young captain gazed excitedly out to the ocean, plotting his course of action.