The Arms of a Thief

“The winner and the loser told the fallen priest,

It’s a cold cold world in the Arms of a Thief”

Iron and Wine

He was known as The Captain. Just that. No one knew his real name. No one asked. There were tales told about him in many a tavern along the coast. They said he had fought a shark all alone with just a rusty cutlass. They say he had stolen the King’s crown off his head while he slept. They said he was not human, that he was a ghost, much like the Flying Dutchman was not a ship for It could sail on land.

On this particular morning, The Captain was on deck. He was looking at a map. The Duke’s fleet was nearby, he could feel it in his bones. This would be his last robbery, his final conquest. He had just received word that his wife, back in the town he had left her in had given birth to a boy. He had a son, and he did not want the boy to know of him as a pirate.

The Captain was jolted out of his reverie by the urgent voice of his bo’sun from up on the lookout.

“I see it Cap’n. It’s a Man O’ War. The bastards have sent their bloody best with the cargo!”

“Never ye mind the size of the ship! We can take it!”, he growled back. He could feel the adrenalin course through him. He checked his dual flintlock pistols, his own invention and also his cutlasses. He then strode up to the wheel of the ship and  twisted the wheel a full 270 degrees to port. He intended to have the starboard side cannons free so he could greet the ship with a volley of cannonballs.

They drew first blood.

A giant flaming iron ball landed just near his feet knocking the Captain sideways. He tasted blood as he hit the deck. He was on his feet in an instant, with his flintlock pistol in one hand and his cutlass drawn. They were on him. The Duke’s finest. His most elite.

Their leader was a man called Domingo. Domingo laughed a cruel laugh as he faced the Captain.

“Well ye mangy cur. You’ve fallen right into our trap! Did you think this ship contained treasure? It never did. There’s a large bounty on your head y’see. The Duke wants it. I’m here to collect it. The sad part of it is, I have to take you alive. Don’t mean I can’t hurt yeh though”

“Do your worst then, scum” snarled the Captain.

Their swords flashed and sparked. The Captain was a fine swordsman but this Domingo was not a rustic. He too had had plenty of practice and had honed his skill. It was an even match. And as we all know, such matches last. This one was no different. 

Domingo was left handed and kept thrusting viciously. The Captain parried his thrusts and prayed for an opening. He was given none. Domingo was tiring however. He was becoming sloppy. The power in his thrusts had reduced. The Captain hoped this was not just an act for if he slipped up now, he was a dead man.

Somehow, Lady Luck was on his side, for suddenly, his first mate was behind them and stabbed Domingo through the ribs. The Captain moved in and reflected the stab from the front.

“The Duke’s still gonna get you y’know. You’re just prolonging the inevitable you bastard” spluttered Domingo.

That night, was Christmas Eve. The Captain had sailed all day. He finally saw the town, where his wife was on the horizon. Obviously, he couldn’t risk taking the ship into the harbor and so he anchored her in a cove just off the coast; intending to take the boat into the jetty and from there go to his home.

Home. He had a home. The Captain rolled the thought around his head. He liked it. His crew were all tired and he had given them the night off to revel. They had gone to the tavern in the town.

He made his way to the house. He knocked his secret knock on the door.  His wife opened it. She looked radiant.

“I knew you would come”, she said as he took her in his arms.

“Where is my son?”, he whispered.

“He is asleep”

“Can I see him?” asked the Captain.

Just then, another figure stepped into the light. It was the Duke.

“End of the road vermin. Did you really think I would let you off that easy? I only wanted you to think that I had sent that Man O’ War after you with the intention of burying you at sea. The tavern you sent your men into is filled with my men. They’re all dead by now I expect. As for you, I’ll spare you. If you come along quietly”, said the Duke

The Captain was a man of few words. He merely drew his flintlock and shot in one fluid movement. The Duke fell to the ground dead.

His wife screamed.

The Captain was gone. He went back to the boat he had left in the jetty. He boarded it and rowed away from the town. He could hear the shouts as the guards sounded the alarm. By the time a search party got roused up, The Captain would be gone.

It was Christmas. Christmas was a time for family. It was a time to be happy. But sadly, The Captain realized, a pirate knows no other life than the one at sea. He is but a nomad, cursed to merely wander.

It had started to snow. The Captain had made it to his ship. Luckily, a few of his crew had survived the massacre. They could still sail.

And sail they did, with the Captain at the helm of his ship. As it had always been.  

The Bilge Master