Chapter 11
John took to his new routine gratefully. Being the captain's cabin boy gave him an excuse to stay near Black Sam. He relished every second he spent with his idol. The pirate captain seemed to enjoy John's company as well. He arranged for John to sleep in his cabin, and had a hammock hung between the large mahogany wardrobe and the wall behind the door.
John couldn't have been happier. For the first time in his life he felt he had a purpose. His days were busy and the work was sometimes hard, but he didn't mind or complain. The repetitive tasks gave him time to daydream.
As he scrubbed the cabin floor with a soapy brush, John pictured himself standing on the deck of the Sultana wearing a tricorn hat, a flintlock pistol on one hip, a cutlass on the other and pockets stuffed full of gold doubloons. The image left a smile on John's face.
He scrubbed faster. It was late in the afternoon, and if he finished his chores early he could climb up to the crow's nest and help keep a look out for the next ship. John wanted so desperately to be the first person to see it. Then he'd be sure to get a pistol for himself.
John was compiling a list of items he'd need to start his career as a pirate. Along with a pistol and of course riches beyond his imagination, John also wanted a dagger, a cutlass, and a hat. Once I collect it all, I'll be a real pirate, John thought.
After he was done scrubbing the floor, John dumped the wash bucket's contents overboard and climbed up to the crow's nest. Earlier that morning, the captain had told John not to bother keeping an eye out for ships. Since they were so far from the nearest shipping lane, he'd just be wasting his time. But John figured it would be a perfect time to keep watch because no one else would be looking. That way he would be sure to see the prize first.
But alas, the ocean's waves remained empty of vessels, except for the Marianne, the Sultana's constant companion. The dinner bell rang and John returned to his duties as cabin boy, anxious to spend more time with the captain. John had discovered in the evenings, after his meal, Black Sam drank more rum than he would during the day. And with the rum came stories of past victories, of which John couldn't get enough.
Evening was quickly becoming John's favorite part of his routine. Along with the stories came some well earned leisure time playing cards, backgammon or checkers.
John descended below deck and made his way through the crowded common room with its many canvas hammocks and loud, boisterous pirates. The men ignored him as he pushed his way through to the stern of the ship where the kitchen galley took up the entire width of the back end of the vessel, from starboard to port. This kitchen was much larger than the one on the Bonetta. Inside there was room enough for at least four men to work shoulder to shoulder.
In the back corner, a small stove housed a large cauldron of stew and a small, blackened tea kettle. A man named Joseph Rivers tended to the stew, carefully stirring the liquid with a long wooden spoon. The tall, thin man turned to John as he entered.
"Ahoy! Th' captain's tray is almost ready. I just 'ave to add the stew an' biscuits," Joseph said as he wiped his hands on his dirty cotton apron.
"What kind of stew is it?" John asked.
"Salt pork and barley," Joseph replied as he ladled portions into two bowls and placed a handful of sea biscuits in the center of the ornately decorated silver tray.
John blew his unruly, auburn hair from his eyes as he picked up the tray by two rope loops that were tied to each end. He wondered how men aboard ships cut their hair. His hair was beginning to annoy him. It was constantly obscuring his vision and tickling his nose.
John looked around at the men in the common room, sitting on the floor and eating their stew, and took note of the state of their hair. Most of the men wore bandannas of various colors which kept their disheveled locks off their foreheads and out of their eyes. John added a bandanna to the list of things he needed as he walked back to the ladder.
The rope loops enabled John to easily carry the tray one-handed up the ladder without spilling the contents of the bowls. He ascended to the deck, walked to the captain's cabin, and knocked three times. Often before dinner, the captain wasn't in the room yet. This was the case today, so when he didn't receive an answer at the door, John entered and placed the tray on the table.
He checked the golden pitcher of grog to see how much liquid was left inside. It was almost empty, so John filled the captain's coconut chalice with what was left. Then carried the pitcher below deck to where a barrel of grog stood open behind the ladder.
Inside the dark, musty hold there were many barrels and casks containing wine, beer, molasses, sugar, tobacco, rum, gunpowder, dried meat, grain, mincemeat, dried fruit and many more food stuffs that he wasn't aware of. He filled the pitcher full of grog and wondered where all the gold was hidden.
John didn't want to steal anything. He just wanted to see the treasure. Knowing that he didn't have time to look for it, John made his way slowly back to the cabin, where the captain was waiting for him at the table.
"Ah John thar ye be. I was about to start without ye. Sit. I hate eating alone," the captain said.
John placed the pitcher of grog on the table and sat on the opposite chair. He picked up his bowl and began to eat the salty stew. They ate in silence for most of the meal.
The captain seemed lost in thought, even more so than usual. As he ate, his left hand moved to his throat where a peculiar golden, heart-shaped medallion hung on a delicate gold chain.
"What's that?" John asked.
The captain suddenly looked at John as if he had forgotten he was there.
"This here's a piece o' eight cut into the shape of a heart. I kept it after looting m' first prize the very same week I decided to become a pirate. It reminds me of m' fair lady Maria. She's the main reason I turned to the sweet trade o' piracy. When I found this coin I knew I was meant to be a gentleman o' fortune," the captain said wistfully.
John made a face as if he had just tasted something rotten. He didn't like where this story was leading. It reeked of love, something John didn't understand or care to.
The captain chuckled at John's reaction and poured himself another cup of grog. He pulled a flask from his jacket and poured a nip of rum into his chalice, strengthening the potency of his drink.
"This piece o' eight was a sign that I was on the right path. You see Maria's parents are quite rich and don't approve of a poor sailor wedding their daughter. So I set off to a shipwreck site off the coast of Florida with my good friend Palgrave to search for sunken treasure. We o' course never found any. Many others had already beaten us to it. By the end of our venture, Palgrave and I were deep in debt with nothing to show fer it," the captain explained.
"So you both became pirates?" John clarified. The captain had a tendency to ramble.
"Aye an' eventually Palgrave an' I found ourselves in the company of Blackbeard himself," Black Sam sighed as he pushed his half eaten bowl of stew across the table.
"Blackbeard!" John gasped. "Where is he now?"
"Don't know. We parted ways a few months back." Black Sam picked up his coconut chalice and stirred the contents with his index finger.
"What was he like?" John prodded hoping that Black Sam would change his present conversational course away from Maria to a more interesting topic.
"Blackbeard … he's a unique fellow. He braids dynamite fuses into his beard an' lights them jus' before a battle. With the eyes of a wildman an' a smokin' n' smoldering beard he attacks his foe in a mad frenzy as if he has never feared death an' never will. The bravest of men cower in the presence of Blackbeard. Aye … 'tis true, even his name strikes fear into the hearts of the most weathered of souls," the captain said in an awe-inspired tone, his eyes becoming bright.
"When I become a full-fledged pirate I shall need a name that strikes terror in the hearts of men as well," John cried, consumed by his imagination.
"That ye shall," the captain agreed. "An' a fine pirate ye'll be." Black Sam smiled and took a long drink of
grog. "Clear the table an' set up the backgammon board. I feel like a game to clear me mind."
John nodded and quickly pilled the silver serving tray with the leftovers from dinner. He ran the tray out to the deck and washed the dishes, leaving them out in the evening wind to dry. When he returned to the cabin, Black Sam was lost in thought, absently running his fingers over the edge of the heart-shaped piece of eight dangling from his neck.
When the captain looked at John he smiled sadly and said, "I promised I'd make her a queen. An' when I returned to her I'd shower her with jewels an' gold the likes of which she's never seen. Then I vowed I'd whisk her off to our very own island in the Caribbean," the captain shook his head slowly. "An' thus far I've plundered nothing but merchant ships laid heavy with goods, not the precious metals I desire."
"The goods can be sold on the black market," John insisted.
"Aye, that they can. Ye're a bright lad aren't ye," the captain said as he ruffled John's unkempt, rusty-brown locks with his fingers. "Be a good lad an' set the board up."
John opened the wooden chest at the end of the captain's bed and retrieved the backgammon case. He opened it and laid it on the table. Together, John and the captain set up their game pieces. Black Sam chose the black side and John took the opposing white.
John found backgammon even more challenging than chess. Black Sam was a fierce opponent. He didn't like to lose, and won almost every game, forcing John to think so hard it hurt. Although the game was played seriously, John and Black Sam kept at it late into the evening, talking and joking. John wished his special time with the captain would never end, but sadly the time always came when Black Sam would suddenly announce it was time for bed.
Black Sam stood up suddenly from the table, almost knocking his chair to the ground as he staggered to the wardrobe to take off his shirt.
"I'm off," he announced, his speech heavily slurred from spiking his grog with extra rum.
John jumped up and quickly assisted the captain as he undressed, carefully hanging up the captain's clothes and placing his knee-high black boots against the mirror in the back of the wardrobe beside his brass-buckled shoes. John faced himself in the mirror and paused. Up until that moment, John had been avoiding his reflection.
A boy he did not recognize was staring back at him. John brushed his wild, wavy hair off his forehead and leaned in close to the mirror to inspect the rusty brown freckles that had taken over his once pale, clean skin. John ran his fingers over the bridge of his nose as if he could wipe them away.
His cool, sea-green eyes sparkled with intensity as he decided that he hated freckles. They somehow made him look younger. But knowing that there was nothing he could do about them, he turned his face away and closed the doors.
While the captain climbed into bed, John tidied up the room quickly and turned down the oil lamp. Then he undressed and threw his clothes into a pile against the wall. With one last look at the captain, who seemed to be in a deep slumber already, John climbed up into his canvas hammock.
As John settled into to the stiff, cool cloth he recited the ever-growing list he thought he needed to realize his dream of becoming a full-fledged pirate. I'll be a true pirate when I have a pirate name, a bandanna, a tricorn hat, a pistol, a dagger, a cutlass and pockets filled with gold, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.