Blood of the Liberated

[Captain Del]

Oh my! Well, that's certainly a record for the most consecutive comments for a chapter of mine - thank you, thank you!

I think this one is a little longer than the others. Whether that's good, or bad, you decide! So, mates, without further adieu, I present to you:

The Red Skies of Dusk

April 5th, 1702
Somewhere off the British Coastline
9:40 PM

John made himself comfortable as he leaned back in to the cushion chair, trying to conserve his body heat to warm himself. The crew had supplied him a change from his humid, dirtied clothing in to some clothes that they found aboard - a stark white linen shirt, with a black outline along a V neck, and loose, red sailor's pants. He tucked his hands under his armpits, as he looked around the room.

He was sitting inside a comfortable captain's quarters, shadowed by only a single candle on the hand-carved desk before him. The room was covered in maps of all the channels and waterways in England, with tapestries hanging down regally by the two windows on the opposite sides of the room. He listened to the creaking of the ship as it sailed through the nightly waters along the British coast, burrowing back in to the tower, red-cushioned chair he took home in.

Captain Rutherford walked to the back of his desk as he smoked a short Alderman pipe in his mouth, blowing out short strings of smoke. He slipped easily in to the chair opposite John, where he leaned back to make himself comfortable. "We should be arriving back to St. Joseph's by tomorrow afternoon, so long as we don't have another malfunction with our sails like earlier." He took another puff from his pipe, before taking out of his mouth, and swirling it around in his hand.

"Captain, do you believe everything in the port shall be.... as we found it?" John perked, sitting up slightly in the chair.

The captain followed the same motion, interested by the question. "I do not see why not.... why do you ask, boy?"

John scratched the back of head. "Well.... to be honest, I'm still concerned as to why those men were in the port. It doesn't make me feel as... secure, as before, you can say?"

"I'm sure that their stop in St. Joseph's was only a minor passing through - perhaps as a point of rendezvous so that the Navy wouldn't be on their tails - but, as you can plainly see," he smiled deviously, "the Navy pays no pardon to any trouble."

"I understand that Captain, but I have to... respectfully disagree. Wouldn't it be possible that these gangsters of sorts were simply trying to establish their own base here in England? And what if they already have in other ports? Certainly if the Navy was actually able to pursue their covert affairs efficiently, they would have anticipated them being there."

Rutherford's face tensed as he became increasingly frustrated with John, taking his pipe and throwing it at him. John took cover, and swatted it away with one hand, as the captain shouted "Shut up, you jail dog! So long as you are aboard my ship, you will respect my authority, and my service name!" John hushed, as did the room, tense under the moment. Seeing the sad defeat in John's eyes, the captain cleared his throat, straightened his back, and continued. "Now then. You'll find that the crew has fixed for you an empty hammock in the crew's quarter's below - poor fellow that slept there passed from sickness a few days ago. Now, leave me to my night - we'll see you in the morning, unfortunately."

1

April 6th, 1702
Outside St. Joseph's Cove, Great Britian
7:00 PM

The red skies of dusk were blocked out by a blanket of dark grey clouds, dubbing over the normally magic whisper of the transition to night. The dark shadows that lingered over the light fog on the waters cut off much of one's farther vision, as it whipped out to you a sharp wind in your face. The bleakness only became more and more prevalent, as the small aura of the sun that shined through the clouds slowly descended to the horizon.

John waited off in the middle of the small English Galleon, as the rest of the crew lined the sides of the ship, staring off the bow to challenge the mysterious feeling it gave off. He had around himself a light, weak blanket that flapped it's ends in the wind, in a desperate attempt to keep his shivering body warm. All he wanted to do was to hear the port had been reached, so he could depart from the ship and return home, away from this ungodly weather. He could feel the warm embrace of his mother just away from his reach - he was eager beyond bounds to see her again.

"There she is! I can see the docks, Cap'n!" one of the younger soldiers shouted back to Rutherford, who was pacing back and forth on the deck. In haste, he hurried up to the bow, brushing violently past his men to see for himself that they had returned to the town. Interested and excited, John stood up from his seat by the mast, holding the blanket around his torso, and walked towards the bow of the ship.

He could peak just over the shoulders of the group of men, down in to the fog that lined his view. He could just barely make out what seemed to the be the docks of St. Joseph's, low and shadowed, and what seemed to be a few ships lining next to them. Yet these ships were different - they were larger schooners, the sides of whom were tilted inward to face the town itself. Their sails were closed, but they were in no way attached to the dock - as though they positioned themselves like that, just to look at the port. An eerie silence fell over the seas, as no man dared to breath, blink, or make any sudden movement. This mysterious presence had offset them all, and they were unsure of what would happen next.

Suddenly, a bright, loud explosion rocked the sides of the schooners that faced in towards the town. It was like a tremendous fireball, shooting out in a brilliant burst of energy that struck to you both awe and terror. John's eyes widened, as his eyes were forced to turn away from the deafening blast. He could feel the outer remnants from the heat of the eruption wisp across his cheek, like the tips of it's fingers just grazed his face.

As the blast receded, the men returned their vision to the ships, to a terrific sight. The blast had come from the broadsides of the ships, which were now unloading mercilessly in to the murky city. Rounds and rounds of lead shot in to and over the first row of buildings that lined themselves before the docks, cracking and rumbling them as they were pummeled over and over again. Rutherford stumbled back, horrified by the unexpected occurrence. He shouted, "Ah, AH! Ca-call to arms, all of you! Load the ca-c-c-nnons! NOW, NOW!"

While the captain roared, John could feel his heart sink to the depths of his chest. His spine ran cold, at the thought of his home being attacked so ruthlessly - images of all those that he made ever met and loved flashed before him, as though they, like the visions, were flashing before his eyes. His head felt light, and his hands shook with anxiety and worry. He knew that he was watching everything he ever loved die before him, and he wanted to be with them when it happened.

It only took an impulse for John to throw his blanket on to the deck, and run towards the side of the ship. Before Rutherford or the crew even had a chance to respond, John had rammed himself in to the banister, throwing himself off the ship. As the shouts behind him screamed, and his feet slowly left the security of the ship behind him, John could only repeat to himself how truly defective his decision was.

His body slammed itself chest-first in to the ice cold waters, submerging him in a swirling whirlpool of what felt like frozen water. His head felt as though it was chilling right atop his body as it poked out of the surface, dripping water and exasperated. He splashed around, trying desperately to find direction, when he caught eye of yet another broadside. He steadied himself in the water, trying not to go completely still. His muscles were already clamping and numbing in the waters, so he knew every motion mattered.

He began to paddle towards the outline of the town, trying to remember vaguely where he could reach land. Fires that had begun to spark on the forefront of St. Joseph's made his target much easier to view - a small strip of sand that acted as a small beach at the very end of the town, where it's limits reached a steep cliff that ran along the coastline. He was breaking his journey back home in to smaller objectives - and he was in the stage where making it to the shore alive would be an accomplishment.

He finally flopped on to the small sand patch, nearly tossing himself in to a large fire that started next to it to warm himself. He could feel his blood slowly pouring back in to his limbs, giving him back his flexibility. He gasped for air heavily, but gratified himself for being able to pull through swimming through something just short of an arctic ocean.

He slowly jiggled to his feet, and gained speed as he stumbled up the street that hugged the cliff that ran at the edge of town. It was a narrow street, just longer than an alleyway, but he slipped through in quickly. He reached on the other side of it a long, wide road, that ran down horizontally the length of the port. John looked down it, to analyze the scene beyond the front lines; people poured out of their homes, carrying children and prized possessions, weeping as they dodged the fires and ammunition that consumed their homes. Some men were brandishing large muskets, preparing to defend their town in the event of an invasion - to the death.

John ran down the street as fast as his ailing body allowed him, juggling around the chaotic people that zoomed by him, as he passed building by rubble, child by mother, and fire by rubble. The breath of the fires breathed heavily on his neck, but he tried to escape them, his legs moving faster and faster, as though he were being motivated.

Just as he reached the street that ran back up through the town, towards his house, John realized he and the townspeople were not alone - gruesome, raggedy men, gripping large rusted swords were running about, pulling people of all ages out of their homes, and torturing them. Balnette timed it just so that he witnessed only a few dozen feet away from him the beheading of an entire family - children as well. The sight of their headless bodies nearly made him turn away, but he knew he could not abandon his family now.

Against all of his thought, he sprinted with all his might up the street, avoiding any closeness towards the demonic men that taunted him on the sides of the street. He tried to pretend they were not there, but it was hard to block out the image of the devil from your mind. His ugliness, the sheer cruelness of his smile, burrowed itself in to your soul - he brought with him things that could never be unseen.

Finally, he reached the small side street his home sat on. He ran right around the corner, where the door of his house waited, facing in to the street. John didn't take a breath to go full speed in to the door, outreaching a stern arm and blasting through it.

He walked in to the dark, small kitchen of his house, the normally quaint table in the middle of it violently tossed over. In the middle of the room, standing over some sort of bundle, was a lanky, shaggy man, that turned to John as soon as he walked in. He had in his hand a bloody dagger, that he licked almost seductively the blood from. His face was unruly, disproportional, and of all things, disgusting. He smiled a yellow teethed smile "Hello."

John couldn't take it anymore. He clenched his face and let out a ferocious scream, charging right towards the man. It took a few steps for him to sweep the man of the ground, slamming his back in to the wall that sat near the staircase. As he felt the two of them stop, Balnette unleashed a remorseless flurry of punch after punch in to the grizzly man's face, splattering blood and snot all over his fists. The man's eyes closed in pain, but John only pounded harder and harder, leaving a blood stain on the wall behind the man as his lifeless body slinked to the ground.

As John looked over his victory, his senses reawakened, alerting him to a heavy, shallow wheezing noise behind him. John turned, and nearly cried instantly at the sight. A woman, stabbed in the stomach roughly eight times, was lying out right on the chair, her eyes shutting and blood pouring out in to her plain cloths. Her beautiful face was covered in tears, and blood.

"MOTHER!" John shrieked, nearly collapsing to his knees in shock. He crawled to his mother, his arms shaking violently with each palm on the floor. He scurried next to her head, and scooped it up in to his lap.

His mother was breathing sharply, and violently. Her head and neck rocked back and forth as she tried to speak. "W--wh--wh-whe-eres m-yy-y-y ba--by....." she gulped, swallowing a mouth full of blood.

John was exasperated in grief, as though every emotion that had ever poured in to a situation with his mother was returning. "OH, I'M SO SORRY!" he screamed at her. His head turned down towards her, touching his forehead with hers. "I LOVE YOU, I'-I'M S-S-SH-SH-SO SORRY! I NEVER- I- I--"

All his mother did was smile, as her eyes closed. "My b-b-b-bab-y-y..." she whispered "H-he's he-r-re.... I l-lov-love..." Her body went in to a final quake, jumbling back and forth in John's arms.

"NO, YOU CAN'T DIE, NO!" He yelled at her, as her body slowly seeped itself to peace. "NO NO NO, NO NO! PLEASE!" he cried out, his voice quaking hysterically as tears poured down his face. "DON'T LEAVE ME!"

John felt his arm pits being scooped off the ground, pulling him back and up. He could feel Captain Rutherford's arms wrapping around his body, as he pulled him back towards the door. "COME NOW BOY, THERE'S NO TIME LEFT!"

John hunched in the man's grasping, kicking and flailing towards the dead body. "NOO, NO!" he cried out. "SHE'S G-HONE! NO!" his voice cracked, as his body gave way to the captain's grasp. He continued sobbing heavily and loud, as his feet were dragged backwards, away from the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This chapter was particularly painful to write - it was really unbearable to ever think I could lose my mother.

Tell me what you think mates - let's hope I get as many comments as the last chapter, aye?