A Sea Too Far by Hank Manley Page B

 
    Warren and Conchshell sat on the hatch in the center of Queen Anne’s Revenge’s main deck. They rested in the shade of the ship’s launch which was securely strapped to the large wooden, ventilated cover that spread over the opening to the deck below.
    The boy’s pulse was slowly returning to its normal rate after the excitement of the brief battle with the French merchant ship and the vigorous labor to transfer the two dozen barrels of red wine and the many bales of silk to the storage hold of the pirate ship. Marseilles had been set free after all items of value had been confiscated.
    Warren held his open palm atop the handle of his captured sword and spun the blade with a flick of his free fingers. The honed blade twirled in the sunlight. The bright steel caught the rays of the Bahamian sun streaming over the young man’s shoulder. It flashed rhythmically as the tip of the heavy weapon carved a tiny hole in the wooden deck.
    The Labrador stared intently at the sword as the light reflected back with each turn of the blade. A satisfied low growl sounded in her throat.
    Marty Read walked across the deck and threw a red shirt, knee length pants and a pair of leather boots at Warren’s feet. “I found ye some proper garments on the merchant ship,” he said. “Them pantaloons and blouse ye be wearing when ye blew up on the shores of our hideout be not too practical for the work of a pirate. Even more important, they lack much in the way of fashion. Ye need some color in thy clothing.”
    Warren picked up the boots and immediately pulled them on his feet. He had been barefoot the entire day, and felt lucky he hadn’t done serious damage running around the island and jumping from ship to ship.
    “They fit,” he said. “Thanks. But why do you say I need color in my clothing? I’ve noticed most of the crew favor bright, colorful shirts and pants. Is there a reason?”
    “Don’t ye know, me friend?” Marty said with a laugh. “Perhaps it not be the case on thy Serenity Cay, but back home in England it be against the law for a common man to wear color in his garments. It be the way of the royalty to keep the peasants in their place. So now that we be free men, able to do as we please, we choose to adorn themselves with colorful clothing. It be our way to give a thumb of the nose to the gentry back home.”
    Warren sat stunned when he heard the absurd reasoning why the pirates dressed in colorful clothing. What kind of crazy society would pass a law that dictated what color clothes people could wear? Marty Read must be inventing such a story to tease him!
    Before the boy could question his friend further, Blackbeard walked over and ruffled the hair on Warren’s head with a huge hand. “Ye be a good lad,” he said. “I’m of a mind to put thee in for an ordinary seaman’s full share of the bounty. What think thee?”
    Warren jumped to his feet. “I . . . I think that would be wonderful,” he replied, fighting to disguise his utter ignorance of the captain’s words.
    “The quartermaster needs to approve,” Blackbeard said. “But he witnessed thy jump across to the Marseilles, andhe saw thee ready to fight. I believe he will be in agreement.”
    Warren glanced at Marty and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. The young man merely nodded and smiled.
    “Thank you, Captain Teach,” Warren said. “That’s very generous of you.”
    * * *
    “What was the captain talking about?” Warren asked when Blackbeard disappeared through the door in the bulkhead to his quarters aft.
    “Ye be a full-fledged pirate now,” Marty Read said with a wide grin on his face. “Ye be an ordinary seaman.”
    “What’s an ordinary seaman?” Warren asked.
    Marty Read motioned for Warren to sit beside him. “It be a rank,” he said. “It be the lowest rank, but a rank nonetheless. It be the rank of a pirate with little experience.”
    “Okay,” Warren rejoined with a chuckle. “What’s your rank? Do I outrank you