8_Stars_8
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β‘coded by uxieβ‘
eefvix
poet
Waves crashed against the old rotten wood. The dim light flickering off the candle was barely enough to illuminate half a page, yet he felt the urgency to write this last letter. The cannon fire outside only added to the urgency, a scribbling hand upon half damp parchment. Boats like this one made for a very poor writing station heβd decided. Signing with Once and always yours, Silas he quickly folded the paper up and stuffed it into his shirtwaist. Buttoning his trousers and flattening it against his body. A last letter to her.
A clatter above him, the struggle was closing in. It wouldnβt be long now, they would find him down below. The ship creaked as a wave crested with great strength. The boat teetered and down went Silas to the floor.
In what felt to him as seconds, the door was flung open and he was peeled off the floor and shoved through the door. How did it come to this?
Three Weeks Earlierβ¦
βPlease! Think this through more clearly!β Her shrill voice echoed a worry he knew all too well. Her hands, smooth and dainty from years of needlepoint and demanding others to work for her, wrung themselves from her nerves. βI shanβt find any reason for such a voyage! The seas are uncharted, unguarded, dangerous!β
Silas ignored her pleas as he added the finishing touches to the last suitcase.He turned, finally facing his mother. Her eyebrows taut in incredible worry. He walked to her and took those hands which struggled to find release from her anxiety. Delicately he kissed her knuckles. βMother, you worry too much. This is good, for us, for you. I cannot waste the opportunity I have to seek The New World. Its opportunity calls to me and I cannot ignore.β
Another of his sly smiles and she was pulling her hands from his. βSilas Alexander. If you let anything happen, youβll send your poor mother to an early grave.β Her words were poison but her tone gave permission. Her blessing of his voyage.
The promise was to write to her and his father once a week. Once a week a letter to be sent, to assure his poor motherβs nerves and his poor fatherβs ear.
Silas was afterall, their only child. He was the sole inheritor of his fatherβs fortune and, to their hope, the next chairholder of his fatherβs place in parliament. They could hardly handle his choice to pursue medicine; when Captain Monroe offered him a journey to the new world free of charge (with minor stipulation to look after the crew) he happily agreed.
Tearful goodbyes at the dock, and suddenly it was really happeningβ¦
The boat ride should have been perfect, the summer seas were known to be fair, voyages almost always ended well; why assume this would be any different?
Hands rasped at the door. The old wooden chair heβd hoisted up to hold the pirates back was soon to falter as the last words to his mother he thought heβd write were hastily scribbled. Once the parchment was folded and stuffed down his shirt, the chair and the door both gave way.
Knocked off her feet, Silas stood no chance at fighting. It was talk his way to safety, or die at the hands of a rusted, dirty cutlass. Pirates. He grimaced. Looming figures quickly approached in the darkness as Silas scrambled for an escape, a loophole, a way out. Once a bruised and gigantic hand hoisted him off the floor by his shirt, he shouted, βparley!β The word echoed into darkness. The pirates said nothing, but the grip upon his shirt changed. Grabbed at the nape of his neck like a scolded pup, Silas was brought to his feet then shoved through the once barricaded door.
The light upon deck was blinding, even if it was fading behind the horizon now. Shoved forward, Silas caught a nail, his knees scuffing against the deck. Each arm was taken into a tight grip as his teeth clenched. What on earth was he going to say to these people? Surely they would kill him without hesitation, even if he were a doctor.
Once his gaze broke from the floor, deep brown eyes searched each face before him. The crew tied to the mast, Captain Monroe beaten until barely breathing. He scanned each face, until his eyes stopped upon a woman. A female captain was enough of a sight to behold, butβ¦ As Silas was pulled to his feet, he got a better look at her. Against all his better judgements and perfect sanity, βKatarina.β Her name rolled off the tongue like butter. His face read pure astonishment as his eyes met hers.
βKat. It is you. I never thought.. But youβ¦β Words were lost to him, his jaw could move but the sounds could not find escape. For his impropriety of addressing the Captain as such, a hard elbow to his back. Silas collapsed back to one knee, sputtering a cough as his air was knocked free.
βYou will address her as Captain.β
His gaze found hers again for only another moment, before obediently his head lowered. Katarina. It was truly her, it had to have been. He would never mistake such a face. Piracy was a surprise, though it wasnβt above his dear Kat, not to him at least. Perhaps she would spare his life, he would be saved.
A clatter above him, the struggle was closing in. It wouldnβt be long now, they would find him down below. The ship creaked as a wave crested with great strength. The boat teetered and down went Silas to the floor.
In what felt to him as seconds, the door was flung open and he was peeled off the floor and shoved through the door. How did it come to this?
Three Weeks Earlierβ¦
βPlease! Think this through more clearly!β Her shrill voice echoed a worry he knew all too well. Her hands, smooth and dainty from years of needlepoint and demanding others to work for her, wrung themselves from her nerves. βI shanβt find any reason for such a voyage! The seas are uncharted, unguarded, dangerous!β
Silas ignored her pleas as he added the finishing touches to the last suitcase.He turned, finally facing his mother. Her eyebrows taut in incredible worry. He walked to her and took those hands which struggled to find release from her anxiety. Delicately he kissed her knuckles. βMother, you worry too much. This is good, for us, for you. I cannot waste the opportunity I have to seek The New World. Its opportunity calls to me and I cannot ignore.β
Another of his sly smiles and she was pulling her hands from his. βSilas Alexander. If you let anything happen, youβll send your poor mother to an early grave.β Her words were poison but her tone gave permission. Her blessing of his voyage.
The promise was to write to her and his father once a week. Once a week a letter to be sent, to assure his poor motherβs nerves and his poor fatherβs ear.
Silas was afterall, their only child. He was the sole inheritor of his fatherβs fortune and, to their hope, the next chairholder of his fatherβs place in parliament. They could hardly handle his choice to pursue medicine; when Captain Monroe offered him a journey to the new world free of charge (with minor stipulation to look after the crew) he happily agreed.
Tearful goodbyes at the dock, and suddenly it was really happeningβ¦
The boat ride should have been perfect, the summer seas were known to be fair, voyages almost always ended well; why assume this would be any different?
Hands rasped at the door. The old wooden chair heβd hoisted up to hold the pirates back was soon to falter as the last words to his mother he thought heβd write were hastily scribbled. Once the parchment was folded and stuffed down his shirt, the chair and the door both gave way.
Knocked off her feet, Silas stood no chance at fighting. It was talk his way to safety, or die at the hands of a rusted, dirty cutlass. Pirates. He grimaced. Looming figures quickly approached in the darkness as Silas scrambled for an escape, a loophole, a way out. Once a bruised and gigantic hand hoisted him off the floor by his shirt, he shouted, βparley!β The word echoed into darkness. The pirates said nothing, but the grip upon his shirt changed. Grabbed at the nape of his neck like a scolded pup, Silas was brought to his feet then shoved through the once barricaded door.
The light upon deck was blinding, even if it was fading behind the horizon now. Shoved forward, Silas caught a nail, his knees scuffing against the deck. Each arm was taken into a tight grip as his teeth clenched. What on earth was he going to say to these people? Surely they would kill him without hesitation, even if he were a doctor.
Once his gaze broke from the floor, deep brown eyes searched each face before him. The crew tied to the mast, Captain Monroe beaten until barely breathing. He scanned each face, until his eyes stopped upon a woman. A female captain was enough of a sight to behold, butβ¦ As Silas was pulled to his feet, he got a better look at her. Against all his better judgements and perfect sanity, βKatarina.β Her name rolled off the tongue like butter. His face read pure astonishment as his eyes met hers.
βKat. It is you. I never thought.. But youβ¦β Words were lost to him, his jaw could move but the sounds could not find escape. For his impropriety of addressing the Captain as such, a hard elbow to his back. Silas collapsed back to one knee, sputtering a cough as his air was knocked free.
βYou will address her as Captain.β
His gaze found hers again for only another moment, before obediently his head lowered. Katarina. It was truly her, it had to have been. He would never mistake such a face. Piracy was a surprise, though it wasnβt above his dear Kat, not to him at least. Perhaps she would spare his life, he would be saved.
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