Colt took a deep breath. He stood before the door to the captain's quarters, silently bracing himself for what was to come. He knew what he had to do; what he had to say. But it didn't matter. If he was successful, everything would change by the time he walked back out the door. If he wasn't successful... well, that just wasn't an option. He steeled himself, and then went all in. He rapped on the door.
A gruff voice responded. "Enter!"
Colt obeyed. He pushed the door open and walked into the quarters. It was the brightest and most colorful room on the ship, and contained all of the captain's belongings. It was technically smaller than the kitchen, but there was much more space to move around in it. The walls were polished wood and the carpet was a royal crimson. The smell of it was the only thing bad about it. Colt couldn't decide which was worse: the captain's quarters or the kitchen. What the captain's quarters lacked in burnt fish it made up for in the stench of Captain Rave.
"You're not a cook!" Captain Rave rumbled. "What are you doing here, boy?"
The captain of the ship was sitting in his large chair at the back of the room. He was a large man with so much facial hair that you could hardly see his actual face. He was just a few inches taller than Colt, but because of his weight and his eyes that always seemed to be glaring, he seemed to tower over everyone in his path. It was hard to look directly at him without imagining what he'd do to you if you got on his bad side, but Colt did his best to stand unwaveringly.
Captain Rave had a sack in his lap and he was rummaging through it. A couple glasses flew out of it, followed by some garments of clothes. The glasses smashed into a million pieces on the floor due to the forcefulness in which they were thrown, while the clothes piled up where they landed. Colt realized that the captain was searching for anything valuable in the sack, which must have been filled hurriedly with stolen items. He thought that the glasses had looked perfectly fine and the clothes much better than what he was accustomed to wearing, but the captain was not content. He kept on rummaging furiously through the sack.
Colt cleared his throat. "Well, you let me in."
Red-Head Rave looked up. "I thought you were a cook delivering the meal I ordered."
"I'm not... but I'm sure your food will be here any minute."
"It better be," grumbled the captain as he focused back on the sack, "and you have until it does to finish your business here and scram."
Good start so far, Colt thought.
"I'd like to request our next voyage," Colt said.
This caused Captain Rave to give him his attention. Colt stood frozen, feeling like there were hundreds of eyes on him, as the captain considered his request. He looked Colt up and down and tapped his big foot against the carpet thoughtfully. He nodded, seeming to come to a conclusion. Then he reared his head back and roared with laughter.
Colt couldn't decide whether to be embarrassed or angry as the captain doubled over, laughing at Colt's request. Colt began to say something, but couldn't really think of anything to help his case. So he kept quiet.
"You?" the captain spluttered. "You, request our next voyage? I think not, boy! There is only one person who decides where this ship goes, and that's me." He jabbed a finger at himself. "You should know that by now."
"I do," Colt replied, "and it would still be your decision, of course. But I wonder if I might simply suggest a place. It would be very profitable."
Red-Head Rave raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh yeah? And where is this profitable place you speak of?"
Colt shuffled his feet. "Well I don't know, exactly."
Captain Rave snorted and focused back on his sack of goodies. "So, let me get this straight. You're requesting we go somewhere... but you don't know where? You're even dumber than you look, boy."
"I might not know where it is, but you do."
"Is that so?"
"Yes," Colt said. "I want to go after the Lost Captain Finch."
Captain Rave stopped his rummaging again at the mention of that name. Captain Finch was one of the most well-known and powerful pirates of the seas, until he had gone missing several years ago. He was said to have just vanished one day, with no more than a trace left behind. Colt had been searching for that trace ever since he'd learned about it.
"The Lost Captain Finch, eh?"
"There's bound to be good payment in finding such an infamous pirate."
"Obviously," Rave snapped. "But there's a reason no one who's gone in search of him has ever come back alive."
"Since when are you one to be afraid?"
Captain Rave's eyes snapped on to him. Colt wondered for a moment if he had overstepped. What if the captain decided to kill him then and there? What did he need him for, after all? But fortunately that didn't happen.
"I am not afraid," barked the captain. "If I knew where to go, I would gladly find Captain Finch. Then I would capture him and collect his bounty."
Colt didn't hear the last sentence. He was stunned in place. "Wait... what? You don't know where to find Captain Finch?"
"Of course not! Only a handful of people even know where he went missing. What would make you think I was one of them?"
"You told me!" Colt exclaimed. "When I came aboard the ship, you convinced me that you knew where he was. We made a deal! I work for free, and in return we would eventually set out to find the Lost Captain!"
All of the sudden the door to the captain's quarters burst open and a cook walked in carrying a platter.
"Ah!" Captain Rave said. "My meal is here, which means your time is up."
"We had a deal!" Colt yelled.
Red-Head Rave looked annoyed. "Did we? I don't recall. After we drop by Hushhaven to stock up, we're headed to a place called Goldtown, which sounds promising enough. Higher risk, higher reward. Now, get out of my sight. Or else you won't be around by the time we land."
Colt's hands turned to fists at his side, but he restrained himself. He knew well enough that Captain Rave wasn't bluffing. He would lose no sleep in killing Colt or throwing him overboard. So instead of picking a fight, Colt nodded stiffly to the captain. He turned and left the quarters in a hurry.
His plan hadn't worked. Not only did Captain Rave not want to go looking for the Lost Captain Finch, he also didn't even know where he was. Colt had worked as a cabin boy on the Bloody Manta for years, all while thinking that eventually Rave would go after the captain. And Colt was going to be with him, there to share in all the glory and riches. He had wasted so much time! Captain Rave had wasted so much of his time.
Finding Captain Finch had been Colt's main, and pretty much only, goal in life for as long as he could remember. He'd heard the stories when he was young, and had promised himself that he would be the one to find the captain and collect the reward. Now he wasn't only not getting closer, he was actually getting further from his goal.
Colt took the stairs under the ship's deck and walked toward the bottom front of the ship. He pushed a door open and entered into a small, dimly lit room. The room was filled with unnecessary junk such as empty barrels and scraps of the ship that had been blown off and badly repaired. It was essentially a miscellaneous room that contained everything on the ship that didn't belong anywhere else. But the most important part of the room was that no one ever came into it. That meant that Colt would more or less be all alone, save for a couple other cabin boys that would wander in every now and again.
Colt crossed over to the end of the room and rummaged around in one of the barrels. His hand grasped around a familiarly-shaped piece of wood, and he pulled it out. It was a wooden cutlass, one that he'd found while exploring the room one time.
With the cutlass in hand Colt then grabbed a large sack of flour. He positioned the flour in a stationary position and then stepped back. He kneeled slightly down and brought the cutlass in front of him, in an attack stance. Then he pounced forward and struck at the sack of flour.
He'd done this countless times before. Whenever there was no work to do or he was just really mad at something, he'd come to the room to practice his swordsmanship. The other cabin boys liked to make fun of him for it when they could, as Colt was pretty bad with a sword. But he ignored them. He didn't care what they thought. He just wanted to get better. He knew he'd have to fight someone eventually, and he wanted to be able to do so. He liked to think that he'd improved since he started, but there was really no way of knowing. The sack of flour didn't seem to have any feedback on his skills, or lack thereof.
As Colt fought against the sack, he imagined it wasn't just flour. He imagined it was Captain Rave, and they were having a duel to decide who gets control of the ship. He took out his anger on the captain for lying to him and wasting his time. He struck blow after blow, hitting every single one of them. He went on like this for a while, and his arms began to quickly tire out. He ignored the aching beginning to take place as he continued to strike at the imaginary Captain Rave. At some point he must have lost control and struck too hard, because his wooden sword slit the sack and flour started to pour out of it.
"Told you that would happen eventually."
Colt turned to see Jagger standing in the doorway, watching him. He walked into the room and sat down on one of the barrels.
Jagger crossed one of his legs over the other. "You've already finished your kitchen work?"
"Not exactly," Colt replied as he ran his hand over the opening in the flour sack.
"I really don't know how you're still on this ship," Jagger said, shaking his head. "You're the only cabin boy that can get away with never doing any work."
Colt shrugged. "I do some work sometimes."
"Yeah," Jagger chuckled. "So who're you taking your anger out on today? Cedric?"
"No, not Cedric. Captain Rave."
Jagger looked around nervously as if he suspected the captain to be just around the corner, listening to everything they were saying. "You might not want to say that so loudly."
"Why not? Rave doesn't ever come down here."
"No, but the crew does. They'll be more than happy to report a non-loyal pirate to their beloved captain."
Non-loyal: how ironic. Rave had deceived Colt for years, wasting his time while benefiting off his free labor. Yet Colt was the one who wasn't loyal. After trusting and sticking with Rave for years. It made him want to battle the sack of flour again, but he figured it'd had enough.
Colt looked straight at Jagger. "Don't you get it? We're not pirates! We're servants. That's all we'll ever be. There's no future for us on this ship. Not under Red-Head Rave."
"We may be servants now, but everyone has to start somewhere. If you would actually do some work every now and again, maybe there would be a future for you here."
"Yeah, I don't think that's it," Colt replied. "Either way, I'm not going to be here long enough to find out."
Jagger shuffled his holster around a little. "What do you mean by that?"
Colt raised his cutlass and stepped forward. "I'm going to take out Captain Rave and assume control of this ship. And I'd like you to help me."