The familiar sound of screaming was in the air. Pirates had invaded a small town and were doing what they did best. Plundering, pillaging, and looting whatever treasure they found. Oh, and drinking all the alcohol their bellies could contain, which was a whole lot.
Meanwhile, the citizens of the town fled in a panic. Pirates were on the rise in the world, and every inhabitant on every island knew the protocol when they arrived. Run, hide, and stay out of their way. All the doubloons on the island weren't worth picking a fight with a pirate. And that wasn't their job, anyway. They had the Authority for that. Unfortunately for this town, there were few officers on duty. So while some of the crews' pirates picked fights with the officers, others roamed freely through the town and took whatever they pleased.
But Colt did neither. He stayed on the pirate ship, like usual, and watched all the fun take place from atop the crow's nest. From way up where he was, he had a view of the entire island. He could see everything happening at once, all while the cool air whipped against his face. But he was not content. Far from it, in fact. You see, Colt didn't want to be watching all the action from the top of the ship. He didn't want to be a cabin boy, stuck forever doing mindless chores. No, he wanted to be a part of the fun. He wanted to be fighting alongside the crew. More than that he didn't even want there to be a crew. He wanted to be on his own, only answering to himself. To be able to take the ship wherever and do whatever he pleased. He would be unstoppable. His name would be known throughout the seas, either feared or respected. He wouldn't have to do anymore mindless—
"Work! Get back to work!"
Colt jumped at the sound of the voice, causing him to fall over the crow's nest railing he'd been leaning over. He grasped the air wildly as he fell and managed to secure a hand back on the railing, stopping himself from plummeting down onto the ship's deck far below and breaking his legs. He tried to catch his breath as he hung suspended over the ship. Then he looked up, immediately recognizing the face that stared down at him. It was One-Eyed Morgan, a nasty-looking pirate whose looks fit his personality perfectly. Morgan was second in command under the captain of the ship, and Colt was not his biggest fan. Not even close.
"I have half a mind to kick you the rest of the way off," said One-Eyed Morgan. "We could easily find another cabin boy that could do twice the work you do and eat half as much as you."
Colt's jaw tightened. He swayed a little over the ship and adjusted his grip on the rail. His muscles were already starting to ache from the hanging.
"If you were planning on doing that you would have already," Colt replied, trying to seem as tough as possible. His circumstances didn't help any. "What is it you really want, Morgan?"
One-Eyed Morgan looked conflicted, and Colt wondered for a moment if he actually was going to kick him off the railing. But then he took what looked like a painful step back.
"Captain Rave and the rest of the crew will be back shortly. This island was an easy take, but didn't yield much reward. You know what that means. He won't be in the best of moods, and the last thing he'll want to see is one of his cabin boys slacking off. So, for your own sake, get back to work."
With that, One-Eyed Morgan headed back down the ladder, leaving Colt still hanging from the crow's nest. It looked like he was on his own when it came to not falling to his death. Good thing he was used to doing things by himself.
Colt built some momentum and swung his legs around the ship's mast. He then gripped the railing tightly and he shimmied a little up the side of it to get into a better position. He caught his breath for a moment and then hoisted himself further up on the rail. His feet found the bottom of the crow's nest and he was finally able to climb back over the railing. He stood for a moment and let the pain in his muscles subside. Then he began the descent down the ladder to the main deck of the ship.
Morgan had been right, though he hated to admit it. Their captain hadn't gotten the nickname Red-Head Rave for nothing. When he was angry, he was angry. May the seas help whoever crossed him then, because they would surely face his wrath, whether it was deserved or not. Colt had experienced this first-hand on many occasions, and it was no joke. He definitely didn't want to be caught slacking off when Captain Rave returned from a less than beneficial raid.
So he took the advice of One-Eyed Morgan and ventured below deck to look for some work. That wasn't really necessary, though. Per usual, work seemed to find him relatively quickly. As soon as Colt got below deck he ran into Jagger, another cabin boy. Jagger had dark skin and black hair, and was much taller as Colt, even though he looked to be about the same age as him. He wore brown pants and a gray shirt that Colt knew used to be white but was worn down with time and usage. He also sported a holster around his waist, which was weird considering he didn't have any guns in them. Colt had wondered about this often, but had never asked him about it.
Colt mumbled an apology for running into Jagger and continued as he was.
"Hey," Jagger called from behind. "I've been looking for you everywhere."
That wasn't good. Colt turned back.
"They need your help in the kitchen," he said.
Colt sighed. "Of course they do. There's always work for me to do. Why is there always work for me to do?"
"I dunno, man," Jagger replied. "I'm just the messenger."
"Right," said Colt, "and I suppose you've already finished your work for the day?"
Jagger just shrugged. "I don't like work any more than you. But I've got to get that promotion somehow. You should try it too. You could already be promoted if you didn't always procrastinate."
"Thanks for the advice, but I'm not looking for a promotion."
Colt walked past Jagger toward the kitchen, navigating through several other rooms to get there. The ship he served on, The Bloody Manta, was of moderate size when it came to pirate ships. It certainly wasn't the smallest thing, with much space above and under deck for anything a pirate could need. It also wasn't the biggest ship on the sea. It was the perfect size to be both nimble and intimidating. The sight of the ship's black sails depicting a red manta ray were enough to frighten anyone who was unlucky enough to recognize the ship. Anyone else who saw the sails would fear them soon.
As he grew nearer to the kitchen, Colt caught the familiar stench that surrounded it. You would expect a kitchen to smell good, like a small taste of what would soon come out of it. Not on the Bloody Manta. On this ship the kitchens always smelled something rotten, and the stench got worse and worse the closer you were to the center of it. So Colt had to stop himself, as he'd done countless times before, from gagging as he entered the room.
If there was one word to describe the kitchen on the ship, it would be busy. There were pots and pans, plates and utensils, and morsels of food and cooking materials scattered everywhere. Along with it were about a dozen various cooks and cabin boys alike to make the magic happen.
The kitchen itself was very large. It was a white-tiled room that was one of the largest on the ship. But for everything that went on inside of it, it was way too small. Everyone was crammed together as they worked on their tasks, and had to practically crawl over each other to get to where they needed to be. Even when everyone parted to let a cook carrying a plate of food through, the poor cook still had to perform some impressive acrobatics to get himself and his dish safely out.
"Colt!" barked a voice.
Colt knew who the voice belonged to, but still couldn't spot the speaker in the mass of action taking place around him. Finally, a short and plump man emerged from the crowd and stood in front of him. The man wore a white cook's uniform and was sweating immensely. He was relatively young, but had graying hair that aged him several years.
"Cedric," Colt greeted. "How have you been today?"
Cedric, who was Head Cook on the ship, decided to skip the formalities. "Where've you been? I sent for you like an hour ago!"
"Did you?" Colt asked. "That's funny. I only heard of it just now, and I came right away. As I do, you know."
"I disagree. I don't think it's funny at all." Cedric was trying to sound serious, but it was difficult to take him that way since he barely went up to Colt's waist and was swinging his fork around vigorously. "I think you need to stay closer by, and make yourself easier to be found!"
"I'll keep that in mind, but I really don't think I was the problem," Colt leaned in. "Between me and you, your messenger might just be slacking off a little."
Cedric looked like he was trying not to slap him. His face got all red and distorted. "I should report your name to the captain!"
"You should," Colt nodded. "I've told him it several times but he never seems to remember. But I hear he's off ship at the moment, so you'll probably have to wait for him. In the meantime, was there anything you needed from me? Or am I free to go?"
Cedric was at a loss for words. He spluttered around a little, then came up with an actual sentence. "No you're not free to go! I need you to skin a batch of fish."
"Fish? We just raided a town, surely there's meat and bread available."
"Of course there is, but you're not trustworthy enough to lay hands on it. Anyway, when you're done with the fish Stanley has a few dozen more things for you to do. You'll be in the kitchen all night, with your work ethic!"
Colt nodded his understanding. "Skin some fish and let Stanley do the rest. Got it."
"Wait, no! That's not what I—"
But Colt was gone. He ducked under a cook's legs and made his way to his post. He could hear Cedric shouting behind him, but paid no attention. He knew that the head cook had too much on his mind to focus on the misbehaving of a cabin boy.
Colt had nothing against Cedric, per se, as much as he did against work in general. Come to think of it, Cedric was one of the most fair people on the ship when it came to dealing with the cabin boys. But no one else would dare mess with the person that made their food, so Colt figured it was on him to keep Cedric on edge.
As he got started on the boring task of skinning a fish with a knife that was much too dull for the task, Colt's mind wandered. He went through the same motion over and over again, but his thoughts were far from the fish in front of him. He was thinking of the future. Of how something needed to change, eventually. He was wasting away as a cabin boy on the Bloody Manta. Time was running out to do something that he desperately needed to do. Something that he'd been trying to do for years now.
"He's back and he's hungry!" someone yelled as they entered the kitchen. "We need a meal out to his quarters, now!"
Colt looked up, forgetting about his fish. Captain Rave and the crew were back from the raid. That meant one thing: it was time for Colt to make his case.
"Hey Stanley!" Colt called out. "Finish this up for me, alright?"
Before someone could stop him, Colt ducked and dodged past all of the obstacles and left the kitchen. He would surely be punished later, but he had bigger things to worry about. He was going to talk to Captain Rave, and convince him to change course and go after something he had been looking for for a very long time.