Pirates!! (closed)

Damian frowned and walked over to her table, looking over the maps to try and puzzle out what was wrong as the port town faded slowly into the background. There was nothing he could discern, but that meant little when a navigator as good as Lydia was on board. "What's wrong and what can I do about it?"

Damian took in the clouds for a few seconds, frowning. He cursed under his breath. They could either face the storm- which looked like it would be a doozy, especially with such a small crew- out on the open sea or sail close to port towns and face discovery or capture. "How confident are you about getting back to Port Royal?"

"Port Royale?! Didn't we just barely manage to escape without bullets in our brains?" Thaddeus asked.

Damian gave Lydia a 'one second' sign, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled "Port Royal, you one-eared bilge rat. We've been planning to stop there for months" at Thaddeus. He turned back to Lydia a few seconds later. "We'll be spotted for sure if we crawl the coast, best to try and brave the storm. It'll be rough, but I'm sure the Whore'll pull through." He patted the railing affectionately. "She always does."

"Y'think I could teach him 'ow to clean the cannons?" Thaddeus asked, keeping the Whore on a steady path into the storm. "It'd 'least give'im somethin' to do."

Damian smirked, taking both their ides into consideration. "I'm sure we can get the brat some books once we stop at port, but for now I think Thaddeus has the right idea. Take him downstairs to teach him before the storm really hits. Lydia, you man the tiller."

"Yay!"
Thaddeus eagerly relinquished control of the tiller to Lydia and skipped down the stairs to meet Claude, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Come on, laddy! I'll teach ya how to sponge down the inside of a parrot gun!"

"No thanks." Claude deadpanned, arms crossed. "I'd much rather see your maps." This man, will not take any of your shit, thank you very much.

Thaddeus pulled his revolver and cocked it against Claude's head.
"Now notice, laddy, that I wasn't askin' ya."

"Kill me, I dare you." Claude tilted his head, blinking slowly. "From the state of this ship and your materials, you'll need the ransom you're going to put on my head." He stared at the man who had the gun to his head, his eyes cold.

Thaddeus snickered. Taking the revolver, he flipped it so that he was holding the barrel and smashed Claude's temple with the handle. The hostage fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, and the side of his head started to bleed.

"I might not want to kill you, but I can certainly hurt you," the pirate said with much more polish in his voice than before.

Claude winced but just tore off part of his shirt and held it to his head to stop the bleeding a bit. "I've endured worse from my own father." He raised an eyebrow in challenge. He may be more into academics, but he was still the son of a marine. Claude has a high pain tolerance.

"Heh heh HA HAH!" Right-Ear laughed. "Oi, look at this brat! He thinks he's got balls! Ooh, can we keel-haul him, Captain? Flog'im?" Thaddeus gasped at the thought of another idea. "Maybe we can shoot him out of the 42-pounder!"

"Hm, so I obviously know you're not the one with the brains." The young man stated, keeping the cloth firmly on the wound. Fifteen minutes, maybe more for it to stop. He reminded himself.

Thaddeus turned to look down at Claude. "I don't think you should be insultin' my intelligence level when you're on the ground, bleedin'. Besides, weren't you the one that asked for books when you were bein' kidnapped?! No, we're not gonna give you books! This ain't some pleasure cruise where you get a free fuckin' vacation in the Bahamas, you twit!" he roared. Right-Ear placed his boot on Claude's chest, bending down to meet his gaze. "We're here to make your life miserable! And fin'ly, when you can't take it no more, Daddy Dearest is gonna pay a fortune to get his sweet, baby boy back! We're gonna be rich and you can have a story to tell to the tavern whores linin' up to kiss the 'brave son of the Admiral!' What a fuckin' riot!"

Damian walked over and set a hand on Thaddeus' chest, pushing him backward with just enough force to be a warning. They didn't need the kid, but he would be well worth any trouble as long as they kept him alive. And relatively unharmed. His mouth would make that difficult, but Damian was sure he could manage. "Stand down. We'll teach the brat a lesson in time- hell, I'll let you swing the whip- but for now, we'll need all hands on deck. That includes the maggot."

Drew returned to the deck, dressed in a loose but movable shirt, brown trousers, and boots. "What's happen'd here?" He asked as he moved to be with his crew. Claude was on the ground and Thaddeus was being held back. Why am I not surprised?

Thaddeus grumbled, but the message was received.

"Come on, then," the pirate said, grabbing Claude by his shoulder and dragging him to his feet. "I'm gonna teach you a life skill that isn't sitting on a lounge while being fed grapes."

"Brat got talkative, Thaddeus wasn't willing to humor him." Damian's hand drifted back to his side and he nudged the is with his boot, waiting to see his reaction. "He recommended Claude here get keelhauled or shot out of the 42-pounder, but seeing as you're my quartermaster I think punishments are best left up to you."

Claude was silent for a moment. "I was being fucking sarcastic you pillock. Plus, even if 'Daddy Dearest' would pay for a son's ransom. It wouldn't be me." He didn't care that he might be dead in a few minutes, if he was, he would have a hell of debate for it.

"I mean, if we were gonna do that, we'd have to chop 'im up into little pieces," Thaddeus called back. "They might be our biggest guns, but they ain't big enough to shoot a person out of. I remember seein' a bronze replica a decade or to back that Napoleon used, or summ'n like that. Big enough to fit at least two people in the barrel. Never actually saw combat, now that I think about it," the pirate said, stroking his chin.

"Yes, no good sea legs. The son of a marine admiral." Claude retorted dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm. He looked like he wasn't supprised by anything, but honestly, he was screaming on the inside at how stupid he was for getting himself kidnapped.