Chapter 21: Captain
By: Bryant R. Haake, Honors College, Presidential Honors Student, English Major
The scent of alcohol is not easily forgotten by those enamored with its taste.
Heilyn sat on a stool in the middle of a bar, leaning against the table in front of him for support. His motor functions were already starting to wane from the sudden reintroduction of ale into his veins and stomach. One eye wandered a little while the other tried following, lagging behind slightly. The tavern was loud with drunkards yelling and singing poorly to the music of the bards.
Heilyn didn’t feel like singing. The noise was fuzzy to him anyhow, barely registering against the ringing in his ears still left there by the cannons which had bombarded Brokenbeaux only days ago. Or maybe it wasn’t the cannons, but merely the memory of them. The how didn’t matter, nor the why. Only that it was.
Deighly and Soos sat across from him, both holding their own drinks. Under normal circumstances they would try and take Heilyn’s drink from him, but these weren’t normal circumstances.
“I can’t believe we lost ‘em…” Soos muttered. “Imma miss that slimy brat… and Captain too, of course.”
Deighly nodded while Heilyn groaned. His stomach felt like someone had taken a needle and knitted it into a sweater, using his blood and bile as dye.
By the gods, I need to stop drinking, he thought, taking another swig of ale.
The bar was heavy with noise. A few other groups of privateers had already been in town when they arrived. Most of them were smaller groups coming back from a raid on some pirates or some other bounty, but there were a couple larger ones as well, even some with the same level of respect the Forsaken’s crew had garnered.
One of the smaller groups had set up shop in the bar, practically taking it over like real pirates. Heilyn could tell (before he was drunk) that they were a newer sign-on, still unaware of just how different privateers needed to act from their… rowdier opposites. The town they were housed in—the town of Harrow—was a fairly large town. Despite that, since it acted as a sort of well-known hub for members of the Privateer’s Company, they didn’t have much in the way of a town guard to keep people in line. There were almost always at least a few privateer groups in town, so the people felt safe enough without an established guard.
“Geez, can’t these fellows pipe down a bit?” Deighly asked to no one in particular. Then louder, “Hey, quiet down! We’re tryna have a drink in peace.”
The other group did no such thing. Instead, one of the men, dressed the same as the others but in a Captain’s hat, sauntered up to them, hands laying against two pistols.
“Sorry old man, are we going to have a problem here?”
Soos waved. “No problems here, bucko. Just tell yer’ men to quiet down a little and all will be spick-n-span.”
“I was talking to the other old man, scruffy.”
“Scruffy?” Soos’ eyes went wide. “Why, you little-”
Heilyn raised a hand, setting his drink down for the first time since his last refill.
“Trust me, brother, you don’t want to tussle with us,” Heilyn slurred. “We’ll kick your sorry jackasses back into… we’ll kill ya.”
The bar was growing quieter. The captain’s men seemed to realize a possible fight was brewing, and seemed eager to partake. The crew of the Forsaken seemed less enthusiastic, but there was no doubt they would go to war at the drop of a hat, no matter their reluctance.
The captain snapped open the button keeping his left pistol in its holster. Heilyn’s eyes didn’t follow the noise, not letting himself get distracted even while slammed with alcohol. He thought back to his days as a child, learning martial arts from his father. The bastard had always been drunk, and Heilyn had eventually taught himself the correct way to use those skills, but even still, in a pinch, he could fight while–
The door to the bar creaked open, welcoming in another crew. They were also loud, though less so than the group Heilyn was confronting. Their boisterous laughter ended abruptly as their own captain, a young man in blue with a curly brown mustache and a blue captain’s hat hiding the rest of his brown curls, held up a hand. He didn’t stop smiling.
“Well well, boys, it seems we have a bit of commotion in here. Fellas, is there anything I can do to bring down this clear tension and– by the gods, is that Heilyn I see?”
Heilyn groaned. “Hello, Jasper.”
“It’s been so long, old friend!” Jasper replied. “Rivers, it’s been so long that I’ve been promoted to captain of this fine crew here.”
Heilyn stood up and pushed past the captain who had been berating him. The man tried to stop him, but Heilyn quickly spun with the man’s grasp and put the full weight of his body into a single punch to the man’s chest, winding him and knocking him on his rear.
“Oh, come now, Heilyn,” Jasper—Captain Jasper now—tutted. “I was really trying to help you avoid something like that.”
Heilyn shrugged. “It’s no big deal, Jasper. What brings you and your crew into town?”
Jasper smiled and clapped a hand on Heilyn’s shoulder.
“Well, you of course, old friend!” His smile didn’t waver, but Jasper’s eyes grew a bit harder, and his expression grew somber. “I… heard what happened at Brokenbeaux, Heilyn. I know you’re not one for sentiment, but I have to say… Captain Vexx was a good man.”
Heilyn wanted to shove the younger man away, tell him to go shove his sympathy up where the sun doesn’t shine, but he knew Jasper was sincere. It’s why he disliked him. He wasn’t meant for this life, and yet he was good at it. Too good.
“That’s it?” Heilyn grunted. “You came all the way here to offer condolences? Well, sympathy taken. Now be on yer merry way. We’re doin’ fine.”
Jasper’s smile fell a little. “No Heilyn, you’re not doing fine.” He closed his eyes and took a breath. “I have a proposition for you. Your crew has always been small, and that’s worked for you all. However, I want to offer all of you to join my crew. We would be honored to-”
“Not gonna happen, greenhorn. My crew and I are just fine as we are. We’ve only ever had need of 10, and wouldn’t you know it. That’s the precise amount we’ve got left.”
Heilyn could hear his crewmates’ steps as they joined up behind him. One of them, likely Deighly, patted his shoulder, holding it tight to keep him steady. He hadn’t realized it, but he was swaying. He was out of practice being a drunkard.
Jasper nodded. “I get it, but even still, I’d like to offer at least this.” He drew his weapon and held it out to Heilyn, a show of respect. “Join my crew for a single expedition. No need to dissolve your own crew or fully join mine. I only ask that you and your men accompany me and my own crew on a particularly dangerous job. How’s about that?”
Heilyn almost spat at the man, but something stopped him. There was a look in his eyes that reminded him of Vexx. Not as a Captain—no, definitely not as a Captain—but there was a certain hope to it. It was almost as intoxicating as ale, sometimes even more so given the situation. Even still, Heilyn had respected Vexx for it.
“We could at least give it a try, Payday,” Soos whispered in his ear.
Heilyn turned back to his crewmates. They all had different expressions, different opinions on what should be done. He’d known about that even before Vexx’s death. He wasn’t Vexx, though. Vexx had always been able to tell exactly what his crew was thinking. Heilyn couldn’t do that.
Instead, he looked at Deighly. He’d trusted that man for years, held his older wisdom in high regards. He wasn’t terribly older than him—about 5 years or so—but he’d spent more of his life learning than Heilyn had, studying people and training his eye to see what others couldn’t. It’s why he was the lookout, but more importantly, it had made him Heilyn’s most trusted friend. He’d even call him as close as a brother.
Deighly gave only a single nod, no hesitation behind it. They’d talk more about reasons later, but right now that’s all Heilyn needed. He turned back to Jasper.
“Aye mate, we’ll join yer crew for a single expedition. What’s the bounty?”
Jasper resheathed his weapon and clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! I do not currently have a first mate, so you can take that spot for the moment, Heilyn. As for the quarry, have any of you heard of a pirate named Bolton Tattersall? Goes by the moniker of Riot, and lemme tell you, he really is quite the riot.” Jasper chuckled at his own joke. “And by that, I mean he’s famous for causing prison riots whenever he’s been captured.”
Heilyn nodded. “Aye, I’ve heard of the lad. A bit older than I am, possibly in his fifties. People say his crew has the strength of two shipfuls of men.”
“Well, those people aren’t entirely wrong.” Jasper pulled a sheet of rolled paper from inside his coat and handed it over. Heilyn unfurled it and skimmed the dossier as Jasper explained. “If you’ve noticed, those rumours have been recent, only going back about a year or so now. On his last jailbreak, he killed the warden and took the remaining gold from his blood. We can’t be sure without a proper look at him and what he can do, but the officials in the Company are pretty sure he’s gained Sobek’s Battle Fury gift.”
Heilyn cursed under his breath. Sobek’s gifts tended to be particularly nasty. Even if Heilyn didn’t recognize the specific name, which he did, he’d still know they were in for a rough ride. Battle Fury was known for enhancing the strength of the Goldblood and their crew, making it virtually impossible to take on one with a loyal group of followers.
“You only want us along to increase your numbers, is that it?” Heilyn asked, anger rising. “We’re more than just bodies to throw at your problems, Jasper.”
“Dear Heilyn, I know that.” Jasper actually laughed, doing nothing to help diminish Heilyn’s anger. “I want you along because you and your crew are the best fighters I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing in battle. Not only that, but your crew handles a ship better than any I’ve seen. We’ll end this good-for-nothing bilge sucker within two shakes of a salt shaker.”
Heilyn said nothing for a moment, then grinned. “That yer first curse, Jasper?” He laughed. “Well, I can tell you’re tryna butter us up, but I guess we could use the exercise. We’re in for sure.”
Cheers rang out from both crews. Heilyn held his smile, but he was still drunk, and still didn’t want anything to do with the sea for another month at least.
Dammit Captain, why’d you have to go teaching me those morals and values of yers, huh? At least the crew seems happier now…
Jasper and his crew rushed inside, declaring they’d be buying drinks for the crew of the Forsaken. That sounded enticing to Heilyn until a stern, pounding ache in his head reminded him he needed to be done with that life. Instead, he headed outside for some fresh air, pushing past the last few crew of Jasper’s Stormsailers. He recognized a few, but most seemed new. Many of the old crew likely retired along with Jasper’s father.
Harrow was a town on a hill, with the bar set at the lowest elevation. Sailors of all kinds loved to visit this bar in particular, despite there being more well put-together establishments further up. Heilyn had been to one or two of the others, but their distance from the ships coupled with his attempts to go sober made those trips far and few between.
The port lay only a few hundred yards from the town, a common area with pop-up businesses set onto the stone between the water and buildings. Heilyn could see all the ships lined up like soldiers, swaying lightly in the water, ready to be commanded on where to go and who to slay.
Heilyn found himself an empty cart lying unused at the side of the bar. He adjusted it how he liked with the entrance to it on the ground, letting him lay back while still having his front to the sea. He loved the sea, wished he could always stay there. On the sea, he and his men were practically kings. Not many men could say they were more at home on the water than on land, making those who could comfortably say such a thing a rarity. It made them better from Heilyn’s point of view.
Despite the pretty view, Heilyn closed his eyes, trying to blink away the pain of his headache. He needed to stop, knew he would be so much more effective as a…
As a…
As…
…
The door to the bar creaked open, giving way to the sound of merriment from inside. As it closed, Heilyn could hear someone walking around slowly, not leaving the precipice of the bar. Eventually he opened a single eye, just in time to see Soos meander over to his side of the building.
“Ah, there ye’ are, Cap’n.” Heilyn cringed inside, but said nothing. “Gosh, that feels a bit strange to say, don’t it? But nevertheless, it’s true now, ain’t it? Anywhos, Deighly told me you’d maybe be needing this.”
He held out a drink and a sack. Heilyn took them both, recognizing the gesture with a nod.
“Aye, Saltyboots. Thank ye, but if ye may, please don’t call me that. At least… not yet.”
Soos looked at him with a squint, as if deciding how best to cook his individual limbs. Maybe his arms could do well in a stew, and maybe his heart could be flambeed.
“Awright Heilyn, I’ll call ye whatever ye want. I personally don’t think it’s real healthy to be denying that and such, but even still.”
Soos nodded as if closing the conversation and walked back inside. Heilyn breathed deeply, trying not to think about his new title.
Captain.
That didn’t sound right. Captain Heilyn? No, he’d always been first mate. He preferred playing second fiddle. It had less pressure on it, or maybe more? He wasn’t sure, and that scared him.
Heilyn unwrapped the bag. It was a handful of soot from the fireplace. Paired with the milk from the drink he’d been handed, they could cure a hangover. Heilyn groaned but did as needed, pouring the soot into the milk and knocking it back in two swigs. It felt like drinking wet sawdust, leaving his mouth and throat dry as it ran down. It tasted terrible too, like burnt toast left on the sun and poured into liquid iron. The soot still had a few larger chunks as well which coalesced into balls, giving it a second texture similar to spoiled milk.
“Bleh.” Heilyn tossed the cup in front of him, watching it as it rolled for a moment before curving back around and stopping. He laid back into the cart again and unbuttoned a few of his blouse’s top buttons. The night was clammy, and his shirt was sticking to his skin. Living on the sea had taught him a few things about heat, mainly that he was weird for preferring humidity to dry heat, but even still he’d always cut the sleeves off of his shirts to maintain a better body temperature.
The door opened again just as Heilyn began to close his eyes once more. He forced his eyes back open to see Deighly walk around the corner, arms crossed. They stared at each other for a moment before Deighly sighed and dropped his arms.
“You’ve got to quit this, Heilyn, especially now. The crew-”
“I don’t wanna hear it.”
“They need you now more than ever, Heilyn. I know you prefer sitting in second place, but step up for once, dammit.”
Heilyn’s brow furrowed. “Yer not the type to say that kind of thing, Deighly. What’s really going on here?”
“What’s going on is that our Captain has died, and his first mate’s first act is to hit the bottle! Yer right, I wouldn’t normally call ye out for this kinda behaviour, but you’ve gotta pull it together for them, if not yerself at least.”
Heilyn sat up. “Aye, and what about you? I was his first mate, sure, but we all know yer better suited for that sorta position. The crew may call me captain now, but they should be calling me first mate next to you instead!”
“Heilyn, if you think that I’m better suited to lead this crew than you are, then you’ve gotchyerself another thing coming. Being a leader comes naturally to you. Rivers, you raised a child from birth with no mother in sight! You’ve got more moxy than the rest of us combined, including our dear dead Captain.”
“Yah? Well where is that child now, aye?”
Deighly’s face dropped. He walked forward and knelt down, placing a hand on Heilyn’s shoulder.
“Brother, that wasn’t yer fault. He and Captain were already separated from the rest of us, and those ships, they came out of nowhere. It’s like they were invisible, or hiding or something. You can’t blame yerself for anything that happened.”
The door opened again and people began pouring out. Most of them headed off towards the Stormsailer, Jasper’s ship with fully blue sails. The rest of the eight headed back to the smaller yet quicker and more lean Forsaken. Deighly and Heilyn both watched them all leave, still yelling and joking as if they hadn’t a care in the world. None of the privateers seemed to notice the two of them next to the bar, save for Soos who gave them both a quick glance, gnawing on some meat on a bone. The pair watched the crews for a few more moments before Deighly turned back to Heilyn.
“I won’t let you fall into that hole, brother. Now, would you prefer Captain Heilyn, or Captain Bush?”
Heilyn groaned. He hated it when people used his last name. Deighly had said that as a joke, but it still sounded wrong.
“None of that sounds right, Deighly,” Heilyn complained. “You can’t put that title in front of any of my birth-given names and make it sound right.”
Deighly nodded and tapped a finger to his chin.
“Alright then, how’s about… Payday? Does that sound better? We’ll use yer nickname instead?”
Despite himself, Heilyn grinned a little.
“Aye, I still don’t like it, but if you insist… Call me Captain Payday.”