Apprentice To The Sorcerer

I trembled as I lowered myself into my new hammock. It creaked and protested in accordance with my nerves. The men around me slept already, except for Pintel. He had motioned to me which sling I should take and gone back to staring at the bulkhead.

Jack.

I looked upward, joining Pintel in examining the world through a bit of wood. It thrilled me that Jack still possessed that outward swagger while concealing a good heart. He hadn’t been obligated in the slightest to take me on with his men, yet he had. He hadn’t even asked my name or my history. No doubt he’d seen my slender frame as everyone did, and adjudged me too weak for piracy. He’d given me my chance though.

I felt quite proud of myself for being able to be useful so quickly. But, I also felt very tired. Surrendering to sleep seemed like the best solution.

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Suppressing a yawn, I jammed my hat firmly on my head. Standing in line at the small galley didn’t thrill me first thing in the morning.

“Get enough sleep, lad?” Gibbs asked, putting his hand on my shoulder. “We got an easy day of sailing today, most likely, an’ then we make port. You should be rested up for the doin’s on land.”

I smiled slightly. I knew enough nowadays not to respond with genuine warmth. Men’s emotions were tighter and more contained than my own. “Aye, I’m ready,” I answered truthfully.

“What’s yer name anyway?” Gibbs asked.

“Lei,” I said. “Lei Trapezia.”

“Joshamee Gibbs,” Gibbs said. “Trapezia? Is that Italian?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “My father never was around.”

“Know whatcha mean,” Gibbs replied. “I heard you did a right fair job stitching the captain up.”

“He’s not bleeding anymore,” I acknowledged modestly. A few men around me laughed.

“You’re alright, Lei,” Gibbs pronounced, clapping my shoulder. More laughter came from our fellows when Gibbs’ enthusiasm nearly knocked me off my feet.

I felt surprised when I received my morning ration. Along with a biscuit that didn’t feel like a rock, I got an orange and a slab of salted ham. While I stood there, dumbfounded, Gibbs gave me his orange and a gigantic black man gave me his ham. “Eat up,” the negro said. He looked even bigger than the one Barbossa commanded. “You need meat on your bones.”

“We’ll put ‘im aloft,” another man said. “Got too many that can’t work the rigging as it is.”

“We can all work the rigging,” Gibbs said sternly. “Some of us just can’t go very fast is all.”

Good natured chuckling floated through the room. “How fast can you work the lines, boy?”

“Fast as you, I daresay,” I shot back in between a mouthful of orange and a mouthful of ham. More laughter ensued, along with cat-calling and jeers.

“We’ll see,” Pintel grunted. “Might not get too up in airs today. Captain’s still got to see to Hobson.”

An ominous quiet fell in the room. I glanced at Gibbs, who shook his head at me. I grinned inwardly. I knew I could count on him for my cues. Gibbs had a real heart beating in his chest.

Barely had we finished our meal than a bosun’s whistle sounded. We filed out quickly, pounding our way to the upper deck. I spied Jack standing at the helm, tucking away a shiny whistle as we converged upon him. “Twenty hours to land, lads, and it’s wine, women and song for us,” he said, showing his teeth in a wicked grin. His smile dropped away as two men tugged Hobson up on deck between them. “But first there’s the little matter of Mr. Hobson.”

“What’s he done?” I hissed at Gibbs.

“Stole from ‘is own mates is what,” Gibbs muttered darkly. “They stretch your neck for that on land.”

“Hobson, you committed a crime against your own,” Jack said, stepping away to give the helm to Gibbs. His eyes fell on me. “Keep your eyes open, lad,” he advised softly. “This is what we do to traitors.”

Jack approached the negro who had given me part of his rations. “Mr. Mokulu,” he greeted loudly. “Since you are the one who had to go without food, you are the agent of justice.” He motioned to Hobson. “Give him a sword,” he commanded. “Mr. Mokulu, commence.”

Hobson barely had a cutlass in his hand before Mokulu attacked. In three swift maneuvers I couldn’t follow, Mokulu had Hobson disarmed. His blade sank deep. The eruption of blood told us all that Hobson would not live.

Jack turned his back on us. “Over the side,” he said softly. Hobson screamed weakly as several men tossed him over the rail.

We gathered like vultures at the edge, watching Hobson slowly fall away from our position. White fins cut the water. I wanted nothing more than to shut my eyes, but I made myself watch Hobson get jerked underwater.

“Splice the main brace,” Jack said just loud enough to be heard.

A ration of rum passed through us. I drank mine quickly, eager to abate the sudden chill in my bones. I could not take my eyes away from Jack. Back at the helm, his eyes settled on the horizon as his hands took the wheel. “Tend to your duties, lads,” he said quietly.

I partnered with the loudmouth rigger from breakfast. In two hours I’d convinced him I knew my business. He offered me a puff off his pipe when we came down for grog. I thought I would vomit but I took another when he offered it. “Ye look a mite green, mate,” he said. “But yer the doctor.”

“Never had a pipe,” I wheezed.

“Better git yer lungs broke in then,” he said. “Captain sails for the orient after we make port, or so Gibbs says.”

“What’s in the orient that means to prey upon my lungs?” I took another drag, enjoying the slight spin in my vision.

“Nothing but the finest poppy sap and bricks of hash,” the crewman snickered.

“Poppies are used to kill pain,” I said importantly. “I could use some of that in my chest.”

“Yer medicine chest or yer chest?” He asked, thumping me right on the breast. I managed to keep my wince hidden.

“Both, I suppose,” I shot back, giving him his pipe. “Thanks. I think I’m finished.” I got up and promptly fell flat on my face.

I managed to get to the side of the ship. I could hear men laughing at me as I heaved my breakfast into the sea. I didn’t care. This violent expulsion took my stomach, twisted it. When finished, I rolled over onto my back and waited for the world to stop spinning. My rigging mate leaned over me, a sheepish grin on his wide lips. “Sorry mate,” he said, not entirely sincere.

I smiled at him and accepted his hand.

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I thought I would be ready for the summons, but when it came I felt very nervous. I didn’t expect Jack would pay me any more mind today than yesterday but I didn’t have that in stone. At least it wouldn’t take very long to check his stitches.

He sat shirtless at his table, his lean hand making a set of calipers walk across a large map. “Lad,” he said in greeting. He dropped the calipers to look at me. “I’ve not touched the wound and I’m as curious as you must be on ‘ow it looks.” He raised his arms.

I rushed forward and freed the knot. I gathered the bandage around my hand as I unwound it. To my satisfaction, Jack’s stitches remained tight and without blood. “Leave these off a few minutes,” I said, moving to check his arm. “Get some air on the injury.”

“It isn’t red,” Jack said. “Why isn’t it red yet?” His voice sounded honestly surprised.

“No dirt, sir,” I said. “Must have been a clean weapon too.”

“Saber, off the table almost an hour,” Jack muttered. “Blacksmiths can be incredibly territorial.”

My heart slowed to a dull, forced rhythm. “I wouldn’t know sir,” I replied. Had he meant Will? Had Jack been to see Will recently? But Will wouldn’t have attacked Jack.

“Be glad you don’t.” Jack sat still while I wound him back up. “And never get mixed up with one who fancies himself in love.”

“Pardon me, but was it the captain the blacksmith loved?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Jack gave me a hard look, but I saw I’d amused him. The irrepressible glint of humor in his eyes flared briefly. “Not me, lad,” he chastised. “A lady of our acquaintance.” He eased back as I checked his arm, his eyes seeming to go darker.

“I don’t even know what love is,” I confessed. “I thought once maybe I was in love, but I was wrong.”

“Love will ruin you anyway,” Jack responded sagely. “Best to love only the sea.”

“Or a ship,” I add.

Jack’s clever eyes flicked askance to view me. “Exactly,” he murmured. “Y’sure y’want to be a pirate?”

“No.” I rewrapped his arm, not looking at him. “I did know that I’d had a belly full of cargo running and Captain Norwood. I also knew I could do a lot worse than turn pirate.”

Jack smiled. He offered me a drink from the bottle on his table. Not wanting to refuse a friendly gesture, I took a healthy swig. It seemed to me his eyes were laughing at me, but not cruelly. “Sorry to tell you, lad, but you are officially a pirate whether you like it or not,” he said. “I think you’ll make a good one.”

“Thank you Captain Sparrow,” I answered. “I think we can let your bandages ride until they get dirty.”

I left him. Before I’d cleared the door he’d returned to his map.