Colt was getting rather irritated at having to prepare to die every several minutes. Getting ready to die was actually quite a lot of work. It's not something you'd really think about, since most people only have to do it once, but here he was time after time. He really couldn't tell if he was getting lucky or if the universe just wanted to test him. How many times can we make Colt think he's going to die without actually killing him? What a fun game.
"Wait!"
This time Colt wasn't surprised that he didn't die, but he was rather surprised at the person who spoke up.
"Don't kill him," said Cedric. "Believe me, Captain Rave will want to see to this one himself when he gets back. Colt here used to be a member of the crew, which makes it personal for the captain."
A member of the crew. Yeah, right. A servant of the crew, maybe. But not once did he feel like a member of the crew on this ship. He was always second-class, and treated as such too.
But whoever it was behind Colt must've listened to the cook, because Colt felt the cool object being removed from his head. Then someone took hold of his wrists and someone else grabbed Shelly. Something was thrown over his head, blinding him. He felt himself being dragged down some stairs and knew exactly where he was doing.
"Hey I know where the brig is, by the way," Colt told the darkness. "It's really no secret. I'll tell her too, so there's no need to blindfold us."
There was no answer from whoever was escorting him. They walked for several more seconds, then Colt felt himself being shoved to the ground. A few seconds passed and then the bag was removed from his head. The light blinded him for a moment and he had to blink it out. When his eyesight adjusted, he was in the last cell in the line of barred enclosures that made up the ship's brig, or jail. Shelly was in the cell to his right, sticking her hands out of the bars like she was reaching for something that was obviously not there.
"Not a good idea," Colt muttered to her. "Hands and feet inside the cell at all times. Trust me."
Shelly glanced over to him, started to say something, then decided against it. She rescinded her arms and took a seat at the back of the cell.
"Spending a lot of time in jail, aren't you?" she asked him. "It feels like every time I see you, you're locked up."
Colt nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up a little. "Three cells in two days. It's becoming a bad habit, I guess."
She smiled and glanced down at the dirty collection of planks that made up the floor. The brig was one of the worst areas to clean, Colt remembered.
Then Shelly's eyes got a glazed-over look, and her expression became sad. She looked back up at him. "I'm sorry," she said. "You're in here because you helped me."
Colt held her gaze for a moment before waving off her words. "I'm here because I attempted to overthrow the captain, and failed miserably. Besides, it's either this or the cell at the outpost, and there's not all that much difference to me."
"You tried to overthrow the captain? Why?"
"It's sort of a long story," he said.
Shelly looked around. "I sort of have a long time to hear it."
"You know that information that I'm looking for, on the Lost Captain Finch?" he asked, earning a nod in response. "Well I thought that Captain Rave had information about him, and knew where he was. So I worked on this ship for years, thinking that eventually we'd head out toward the lost captain. No pay, just a dream. But that never happened, and one day I learned that it was all a lie. Rave was never going after the Lost Captain Finch. He didn't even know where he was. So, I got a little angry and tried to fight the captain for control of the ship."
Colt shook his head. Saying all of it out loud made it seem... sort of pathetic. "It was kind of stupid. A cabin boy, challenging a pirate captain? What a joke, right?"
But Shelly was just staring at him intently.
"What?" he asked.
"Why didn't you just tell me all of this from the start?"
"None of your business," he replied.
"I'm serious," she said. "All of this could have been avoided if I'd known the truth."
Colt shrugged. "A pirate's a pirate to people, you know. The story doesn't matter. You can't tell me you would've acted any differently just because you heard my story."
"But that's the thing," Shelly insisted, "you're not a pirate. You were just taken advantage of and forced to work on a pirate ship."
Colt smiled a little and shook his head. "Maybe you're right, I'm not a pirate. But I will be eventually. I'll join a crew, or better yet go by myself in search of the Lost Captain Finch. Then I'll be a pirate."
"I don't get it," she sighed. "Why do you want to be a pirate? And why do you want to find this pirate captain so bad?"
"Fame, riches, and adventure," Colt replied, grinning. "I believe that answers both your questions. The Lost Captain Finch has all three together in one. As far as the pirate world goes, it's the cream of the crop."
Shelly nodded a little, but Colt still wasn't sure if she really understood. She was about to reply, but something else must've caught her eye and she looked away.
Colt looked up and saw that someone had entered the room. A tall boy around their age with a dark complexion stepped into the cell room, wielding a broom in one hand. He hardly glanced up at them before getting to work sweeping the floor.
"So I take it you didn't get that promotion yet," Colt said.
Jagger looked up at him, then was about to look away again when he did a double-take.
"Colt?" he said in surprise, nearly dropping his broom. He blinked a couple times, but evidently Colt didn't disappear because he said, "You... You're alive, man."
"Thanks for noticing," Colt replied, although he was honestly just as surprised as Jagger about the fact.
"What're you doing here?" Jagger asked, walking over toward his cell before realizing what he was doing and glancing back at the door.
Shelly had been looking between the two of them as they spoke. "You two know each other," she said. She looked at Colt for an explanation. "A friend?"
Jagger tilted his head. "I don't know if I'd go that far."
"He's a cabin boy, like me," Colt explained, trying not to take offense. "You'll find I didn't exactly have many friends here."
"Hm," Shelly muttered as she regarded Jagger.
Jagger looked at Colt. "Is she judging me?"
"She very well could be, yeah," Colt replied.
The cabin boy cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right, well I should be going," he said. "I don't know what...situation this is, but I should leave."
"Yeah. God forbid your wrist gets slapped for staring at a prisoner."
Jagger shrugged. His even expression and level temper never seemed to change too much, under any circumstances.
"Speaking with inmates is forbidden," he stated plainly. "You know that, Colt."
"Most things here are forbidden as a cabin boy," Colt replied. Then he nodded to a small rack on the back wall of the room. "Like taking the key and unlocking the cell doors here."
Jagger shook his head and began to back away from them. "No," he said. "My answer hasn't changed, Colt. I'm not joining you on your mutinous adventure. I don't know how you got her to join you, but I won't."
"The situation is what's changed," Colt said. This might be their last chance, so he was going to use everything he had to get his fellow cabin boy on his side this time. It was the only way Colt would ever make it out of the cell. "I didn't get her to join me. She got me to join her. It's not me against Captain Rave and the entire crew anymore. The entire authoritarian force on this island is fighting too. It's different now, don't you see? This is your chance to finally get out. It's both our chances!"
"You don't get it, do you?" he replied. "I don't want to get out. I don't want to act on impulse like you and get thrown overboard. I'm willing to be patient and actually do my work, so that eventually I'll reach my goals."
"All that sounds great," Colt said, "in theory. But when's that going to happen? You don't know. It may never happen. But help us get out of this cell and you can pick up a gun and start working toward your goal immediately. That's what you want, right? To be a marksman? Well let's finally fill that holster you have there!"
Jagger's hand went down to his waist, where his empty gun holster was hanging. He seemed to actually consider it, which was more than he'd done the first time Colt had tried to enlist his help. But then the moment passed, and he shook his head again.
"I'm sorry," he said. "But what's the point of working toward my goal if I die a few seconds later? Besides, being a decent marksman isn't my only goal. You'll remember that I also would like to have basic needs like a meal, shelter, and safety accounted for; I do on this ship. Can you offer me that?"
It pained him, but Colt had to shake his head. In all honesty, he couldn't ensure any of that for the guy.
"I can't offer you that," Colt admitted. "Not for certain. But it doesn't matter."
Jagger raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Because it matters a great deal to me."
"Look..." Colt took a pause, trying to figure out how to put what he was thinking into words. "Just because something might not be completely rational and may not directly benefit you, it doesn't mean you shouldn't do it."
His fellow cabin boy seemed genuinely confused by this. He didn't even look too offended that Colt had basically just called him selfish.
"If there's no benefit, why do it?"
"To help other people, like us, who need it," Colt responded. "The world's not always a rational place. Sometimes the decision that makes the most logical sense isn't the right one."
Jagger didn't look totally convinced, but at least he hadn't left yet. That was something.
"I'm... I'm asking you to take a chance on me," Colt told him. "And I'm also asking you to take a chance on yourself. You're right, this may not benefit you at all. But it'll definitely help us, because we can't get much lower than this. And it may even prove to be beneficial to you, if it all works out. But we won't know if you don't take that chance. We need your help, Jagger."
Jagger looked over at the door again and Colt's heart started to sink. Maybe he really was set in his ways, determined to get a promotion on the Bloody Manta no matter how horribly they treated him. But then he turned back to them, took a step forward, and started shaking his head.
"This is stupid," he said.
Colt grinned in response. He knew, even before Jagger grabbed the keys off the back wall and unlocked the cell doors, what the guy had decided. He was actually going to help Colt out this time. Which meant that maybe they had a chance after all.