George Hathburn looks around the manor. He is a rich young man who has acquired his money from his father and his father from his father. George is tall and thin, but hardy and quick. His face is always bored-looking, and his hair is hidden behind a soft white wig. The same old red velvet cushions cover the same old hand-carved mahogany leather sofa, next to the same old stained glass window with the same old mural of his grandfather as a grand admiral in the navy. Even though the place is highly decorated, it is just dreary.
“This is so boring.” George sighs fingering the rim of his glass.
“Is something wrong sir?” the butler refreshes his master’s glass.
“Nothing ever happens around here.” He looks around the room and glowers at the many trophies he has won over the years. Fencing champ of London, grand champion of England, and several other trophies won in other regional competitions.
“You had that excellent bout just the other day. That was a fine display of swordsmanship.” The butler tops the bottle and sets it away on a silver platter.
“Martial is a twit with a blade, these little fencing matches just do not excite me anymore.” He sips his port.
“You could spar with General Harnsinger.” The butler shrugs.
“Beaten him, I’ve fought all the swordsmen for miles.” He exasperates.
“Shall I find you a more suitable opponent, perhaps someone from outside the country.” The butler reaches for a paper pad.
“No!” He leans back in his chair, “I’ve sparred the best and they just don’t put up a challenge, I want to do something . . . different.” He sits up and takes another sip.
“Like what sir?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He stands up, setting his glass down on the marble table, “I want to do something like when granddaddy would tell me about his days in the navy when he would battle pirates.” He punches the air with his fist.
“But there are no more pirates.” Whethers drones.
“What was that Whethers?” George perks up a bit.
“There are no more pirates.” Whethers repeats, “The navy has all but taken them out nearly twenty years ago.”
“No pirates?” He squints. “But there should be pirates. That would give everyone something to converse about.”
“Granted that, but ships are expensive and heavily guarded, pirates just can’t up and take a ship and organize themselves like they could in the past.” Whethers shakes his head.
“I’ve got a few ships.” George murmurs taking up his glass and finishing off his drink.
“But you’re not a pirate and you wouldn’t know the first thing about going about and becoming one. Please be sensible,” his servant sakes his head.
“No, you’re right I don’t know the first thing about being a pirate.” He looks around the room puts the glass down and heads for the door. “I’m going out.”
“Please don’t do anything rash.” His butler hurries to the door.
“This is me you’re talking about, you know me better than that.” George reaches for a coat.
“Yes,” he nods. “That is exactly why I’m worried.” The butler helps George put on the coat.
“I’ll be back before dinner. Don’t worry.” He picks up his saber and heads out the door.
“Do try and come back alive, sir,” Whethers calls out.
George merely raises his hand to acknowledge that he has heard the warning. He heads down from the high district to the docks, always colorful folk in the docks. He wanders about looking for a seedy-looking pub. What better place to find old pirates. He spots a run-down old pub with drunk men singing at the doorway and he pushes his way through to the inside. The stench is unbearable and he even has the pocket-handkerchief half way to his nose before he decides better of it, and puts it away. That would put him too out of place, so he forces himself up to the bar and sits down, his saber light in his left hand ready for a quick draw.
“Bartender please,” he raps politely on the bar to call attention to himself.
“What the hell you doing in here, your majesty?” The barkeeper growls.
“I’d like a tankard of . . . of . . .” he snaps trying to think of what the lesser folk would drink, “mead! Yes, mead, and any other information I can get.” He drops a few gold coins on the bar.
The barkeeper squints hard, obviously thinking if this aristocrat can be trusted. In the end, mead is brought in an almost clean tankard.
“I can’t says much,” The barkeeper frowns. “But what you want to know?”
“Pirates,” George Hathburn winkles his nose at the smell of the liquid inside the tankard before him, “I wish to become one.”
“I don’t know what you’re talkn’ ‘bout! Be no pirates ‘ere!” The barkeeper makes a sharp jerking motion with his head and two stout men close the front door. “Now I don’t know how you happened here but you ain’t goin’ to tell no one we’s here.” Wood scrapes the floor and George Hathburn turns to find people are coming down onto him swords drawn. George’s saber flashes quickly in the dim light . . .
“Mike, why be this turn coat the cap’in again?” A hard faced man asks with scars flowering his pitted cheeks glares at the first mate.
“Because it’s his ship, and one wrong word and he’ll slit your throat.” Mike frowns. The pirates are on their third attempt at sea, and so far George Hathburn has done nothing but hinder their progress as pirates. The men are out on the deck cleaning up while their captain George Hathburn is in his quarters, the best place for him to be, to stay out of trouble. Still the men have found it odd that the captain would stay in his quarters for hours on end and come out in a sweat. Mike isn't the first mate by sheer chance either. He acts as translator for the men and George Hathburn, Mike being the only one able to decipher what either side is saying and then put it into terms the other can understand.
"So what we do next?" the pirate asks Mike.
"Well I hears that there's ta’ be a ship out that we might be able to take on."
"Not like that ship our cap'in pointed out last time which what had navy officers aboard." The pirates grumble between mop strokes.
"Naw, it should be easy pickens." He starts going into details but is interrupted as the men start going into verse a ditty that they started in respect to their captain. Mike quickly goes into song with the rest of them.
the cap'in one that's not too bright
he can't steer a ship to save his life.
we was sailing on the brine
when cap'in said he'd like to steer.
sose we brung him up
an' gave him the ship's helm.
He steard to the sea
an' still he hit land
The cap’in’s one who’s not to quick
He ain’t know when to use his wit.
He tolds up which ship to sink
Points out a ship what looks rich
We all says no how
I’s one who’s cap’in here
We does what he said
Then we’s who what gets robbed
“That sounds like a great song.” The captain squeals, “Maybe you can teach it to me someday, perchance.” He closes the door to his cabin.
“Yeah, cap,” Mike squints his eye shaking his head slightly to the other pirates. “Someday, but this ain’t the day.”
“So,” George Hathburn intercedes “What have we on our schedule today?”
“We’s done heard that there’s gon’na be a posh ship out that’s not holding past navy generals.”
“What cap say?” A one-eyed pirate asks.
“Want to know what we’s doing next.”
“Why don’t he say so?”
“Oh dear me, I still haven’t been able to follow along with your simplified dialect.”
“What?”
“He says he don’t understand us none neither.” Mike shakes his head.
Several pirates start singing the song about their captain again. Adding verses they didn’t sing before, however, they sing quietly and go about with their jobs.
“What shall I procure today as my assignment?” he claps his hands together.
“Hold yer’ pants on, an’ I’ll asks what we thinks will be best.” Mike frowns and turns to his comrades. “What do we wants him doin’?”
“Shall I steer while you’re in deliberation?” George Hathburn asks politely.
“NO!” all the pirates scream at the same time.
Mike straightens up, “Look here, remember what done happen last time you took the helm?”
“That whole running aground bit, I’m terribly sorry about that, but I’ve been practicing.” He pretends as if he were holding the steering wheel. “And I believe I can do well at it this time around.”
“Yer’ heart’s in the right place, but yer’ head ain’t always there. I don’t want you near the helm just now.” Mike shakes his head.
“Oh, very well,” he sighs, “You will let me know what is you’ve decided won’t you? I want to be a right good pirate.”
Mike squats again and bites his lip. “What ain’t he done yet?”
“Cookin’?” One asks.
“He gave us the shits!” another yells.
“Right, ‘ow about swabbing the deck?”
“Cap’in’s ain’t supposed to do that.” Mike shakes his head.
“Cap’in ain’t supposed to run us aground neither.” Another pirate murmurs under his breath.
“Crows nest?” one suggests and everyone looks up along the mast to the giant box on top. “He ain’t done that, an’ it’s easy. Even he could do that.” The pirates turn to George Hathburn and he is bouncing in his spot quivering with anticipation.
“Right, we figure we found what you can do.” Mike straightens up.
“Oh, goodie.” George Hathburn squeals, “Is it fun?”
“Best job aboard.” Mike stands up and standing next to George Hathburn points up at the crow's nest. “We figures you can go up there.”
“My, that is high.” George Hathburn sways in his spot. “Are you certain it’s safe?”
“Right safe.” Mike nods, “I’ve be up many times.”
“What am I supposed to perform as my task while up there?” George Hathburn squints up at the crows nest.
“You just spot stuff an’ yell it down.”
“I can do that.” George Hathburn climbs up the rope ladder to the crows nest and pirate climbs down the other side of the rope ladder.
"Wow, I was 'prised that the cap'in was strong enough to make it up." A pirate remarks and they all go back to work. George Hathburn looks out to sea very enthusiastically for the first hour; however, after that his interest drops and he walks around the nest to free up his cramping legs. The ship sways and he has to fling himself onto the mast to keep from being stripped from the nest. He swings around and spots a whale as it is swimming away.
"What we hit cap'in?" the man at the helm hollers.
"Just a whale!" he calls back down.
"Cap'in!" Mike yells up. "You was supposed to yell us before we hits whales. You come on down here an' we'll send up someone what can watch."
George Hathburn frowns and starts climbing down.
"I am terribly sorry," he starts playing with the hilt of his saber. "It was just so boring and I believed that I could keep watch and have a little fun at the same time."
"Cap'in, there's one thing that you know that wes don't, an’ that's fight'n. Maybe you can give us lessons and then we can be good at fight'n. That's what we really need an', you can do."
"Teach?" He fingers the guard of his saber.
"I was talk'n with the men and you was the only one what held his own against them navy officers." Mike frowns.
George Hathburn smiles and nods. His saber flashes in the sea air . . .
George Hathburn opens the door to his manor after being away for nearly two months.
"Sir, I have been so worried." Whethers hurries to take George Hathburn's coat and blade but George Hathburn holds tight to his blade.
"I am sorry about running off like that but I had the dole doldrums so bad I just couldn't sit still." He frowns shaking his head.
"You look like you've been out in the sun a great deal." Whethers hangs up the coat.
"Oh, yes." George Hathburn smiles, "I have gotten plenty of sun and sea air."
"I hope you haven't had a run in with those pirates that have just come about while you were away. I heard they took over one of your ships."
"The Henrietta," he nods. "Yes, but the pirates haven't done any bad to me at all. I do believe that I have finally found something that I can do that is rather fun."
"You have sir? What have you found sir?"
"I like teaching. I believe I can live out the rest of my days as a teacher and that would suit me just fine."
"Then you have put this silliness about adventures behind you." Whethers follows George Hathburn into the study.
"No, I haven't put it behind me. I just believe that I need to know more about what I want to do while adventuring. For now, I believe I can benefit from a larger library. I'll be heading out tomorrow to get a book on the fighting techniques of the Chinese."
"Why in heavens would you want books on that?"
"I just thought it would be good reading. Anyways I haven't bathed in the longest time so I'll retire for the night. I've already eaten so tell the cook to not worry about dinner for me. Good night."
"Good night Master." Whethers squints watching George heard up the stairs.
George Hathburn's saber flashes in the evening light . . .
“Sir,” Whethers calls from the front door, “I have another hoard of filthy scoundrels at the door claiming you are their teacher.”
“Ah good.” George Hathburn holds his saber loose in his hand.
“We’s been done told to gets you this.” One of the men held out a sack of gold coins.
“So, I take it Mike is doing well in our little enterprise.” George Hathburn escorts them through the house to the back patio.
“Mike says all up an’ up.”
“Good, good,” George Hathburn nods, “I’m not ready yet to take the helm or anything, but in a few months I do believe I’ll be ready to join you all at sea again. Are we all ready?” he looks around at the bunch. His saber sings in the air.