Pirates Again

Rhys should have expected that Lewis wasn't going to be any nicer than Harry or any of the other crew members who looked at Rhys like a bug that needed to be squashed. He didn't often feel small, but he couldn't help but feel a little insignificant standing in a corner while Lewis argued with Harry about taking on Rhys. Apparently he had much better things to do. It was a losing argument, however, and soon Lewis was circling Rhys like a vulture.

"Sailing experience?" he asked.

"Uh, not really," Rhys said. "I'm a local. Only left once, during the war."

"You were a soldier? Is that where all the scarring is from?"

"Yes, only towards the end," Rhys said. "A few months."

It wasn't a complete lie. When the country had erupted in war a few years back, Rhys turned 18 and was drafted towards the end. They hadn't even bothered to give him a uniform when they forced him to join the defensive side with hardly any training, but luckily the war ended before he could see too much action. It was enough for a few dead bodies to haunt his nightmares, though.

It was probably better to let Lewis believe the scarring came from being a war hero or something, but Lewis didn't seem too impressed. He sort of just grunted.

"You kids don't know what a real war is," he said. "A real fight. At least you know something about following instruction."

"I do. I can follow instruction real good. Real well, I mean."

"Whatever," Lewis said. "We'll start by- Ah, shit. Step back."

Suddenly Rhys was yanked back towards the wall. He stood there silently as Harry walked past them again, this time with a tall, intimidating man. Rhys furrowed his brow. He could have sworn he had seen the man before. His slicked back blonde hair and piercing grey eyes reminded him of the sleazy sorts that frequented the brothel Rhys' mother worked in. He would see them walk in and out of her room, usually eyeing Rhys with a smirk or a look of pity. Not that this man would have been the sort to frequent that area. He looked too important for that.

Rhys forgot he wasn't supposed to look anyone in the eye, meeting the man's intimidating gaze. He looked down, but it was a little too late for that. It was hard to miss Rhys and his massive form, anyways.

"What are you supposed to be?" he asked.

"Deckhand."

"You will address the captain as Sir, or Captain," Harry snapped.

"Sorry, Sir."

Hardly an hour in and Rhys had already managed to insult the captain of the ship. Surprisingly, the captain didn't seem as offended as the rest of the crew.

"Just joined up, did you?" he asked. "I'm James Notley. Usually crew members have to go through me before coming on board."

"Fin sent him as a replacement," Harry told the captain. "Old man never showed up."

"Well, that's alright. We'll find him and have a talk with him."

Rhys didn't like the tone Notley used when he said that, but he didn't say anything. Notley offered him a smile, but it was more chilling than comforting.

"We don't have to be so cold towards the boy," Notley said. "He's just looking for a bit of work, isn't that right?"

"We don't know anything about him," Harry said.

"Oh, we do," Notley said. "You can see it written on his face. Poor alley kid who just wants to rise from the dirt. He'll probably do anything to get somewhere better. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Sir," Rhys said, though he felt there was a suspicious undertone.

"I'm sure we can find some use for him," Notley said. "Back to it, then. We sail once everything is loaded."

Everyone remained still until Notley and Harry disappeared into the Captain's quarters. Rhys wasn't sure who the captain was or what his reputation was, but there must have been a reason why everyone respected him so much. Or rather, were afraid of him.

Lewis instructed Rhys to carry the remaining crates and barrels up the gangplank and store them with everything else below deck. It was dummy work, like Eloise said, but at least Rhys hadn't been kicked off. In fact, he moved quickly and even seemed to surprise Lewis. He must have done something right, because Lewis stopped keeping a stern eye on him and moved on to check the inventory lists below deck.

Rhys picked up one of the last barrels, but this one was heavier and a bit odd in weight distribution. He grunted a bit as he carried it below deck, nearly falling down the steps a couple times. He could have sworn he felt the barrel move. He set the barrel down and took a minute to catch his breath. He looked up to make sure Lewis wasn't around, then pried off the lid of the barrel.

Rhys stared down in shock as another pair of large eyes stared back at him. There was a boy in there. No, a girl. She had tried to tuck her hair away, but some tendrils had come loose around her face. They sort of just stared at each other for a few moments, but Rhys jumped when he heard Lewis call his name.

"You done in there yet?" he asked. "Captain is ready to leave."

"Yeah, almost," Rhys said, quickly putting the barrel lid back on.

"What are you doing?" Lewis asked suspiciously.

Rhys could have brought up the stowaway in the barrel, but he decided against it. The captain was unpredictable, and it was for the best if Rhys didn't get involved.

"Nothing, sir."

"Are you stealing?"

"No," he said. "I was just checking. I thought there was a loose nail in the barrel, but I think it's fine. No problem here."

"Quit messing around and finish loading everything on the ship."

Rhys nodded and waited as casually as he could as Lewis left. He then opened the lid back up, seeing that the girl inside was tense, but seemed surprised he didn't give her up. He didn't say anything to her, but unwrapped a strip of leather tied around his wrist and used it to make the barrel lid look closed, while leaving it slightly ajar. She could get out without a crowbar, and he wouldn't be involved. He probably should have left it alone, but his stupid bleeding heart would never rest easy if she wasn't able to get out of there.