Saving The Pirate (Book Two)

45. Reunited At Last

Christopher

"Alright, men, we are approaching our target. Nearly any day now. As you all know, I have some personal business I must tend to near Jamaica, and I thank you all for staying with me for this long. As soon as this is over, you all can return to your families," Christopher announced one night at supper. "But for now, I retire to my quarters. Goodnight."

Christopher left the room, but it wasn't a minute before he heard footsteps. He turned around and was surprised to see it was Fish.

"Fish, what a surprise," he said with an easy smile. "What can I do for ye?"

"Boy, I'd like te talk te ye."

"Of course, come, let me get you a drink."

He led Fish to his quarters, grabbing a bottle from his chest and handing it to the man. He then plopped down in his desk chair with a whiskey bottle, putting his feet up on the desk.

"So, what can I do for ye?" Christopher inquired, unscrewing the cap.

Fish sat on the foot of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he fidgeted with his bottle.

"Boy, yer the son I's never had, which is why I's made ye the captain of this here ship, but I got te be real honest with ye," he said looking at him with concerned eyes, "ye be worryin' me."

Christopher rose a brow. "How so?"

"Boy, yer drinkin' yerself te the grave and that be affectin' the way ye lead. Ye wake up hungover and ye day drink. A man can't be leadin' a crew if he be just as bad as the crew. Ye get me?"

Christopher took a long sip from his drink. "Yeah, I get you," he said, "but Fisher, do I not get up each morning? Do I not command my crew? I do my job, and this drinking, it'll stop, I promise it will, and besides, it's the holidays! It's a new year, for Christ's sake! Why wouldn't I be drinking!"

Fish gave a low bark of a laugh. "Aye, it it is." He stood up and took his time to walk to the door, slowly, like he was dragging his feet. He looked back at Christopher. "Just be careful, boy. Ye too young te be havin' these problems."

***
Anne

I woke up to another glorious morning to swords clashing together and men yelling.

Instantly, I was out of bed and sliding on my boots as I quickly made my way up the stairs to see what the commotion was.

It was chaos, a scene right out of a book. Half of the crew were tied to the masts, while the other half were fighting men that looked like they just came back from a swim.

I looked around frantically with hope that I'll find Captain or Tristan, someone who can tell me what the hell was going on, but I didn't have time to when a man dripping with water came up from behind me, grabbing my arms and pulling me toward a mast already occupied with defeated men wrapped around it.

I struggled, I kicked, I screamed, but the man wouldn't let go. He threw me on the ground and began the process of tying me up.

I spat in his face, which I found was quite dark, almost black. He mumbled a few words under his breath before looking at me with narrowed eyes.

"Cap'n's going te like you," he said with a smile, and right then and there, I feared the absolute worst, but all the same, I kept my pride and sneered back, "Well, your captain hasn't ever met me."

He gave a low chuckle and rose from the ground. "We'll see," he said, and then he was gone, disappearing into the mess that was men.

Alone, I pulled hard against the rope that bound me, but instead of getting loose, I felt my wrists scratch at the tightened rope.