Chapter 1: Abandon Everything You Know
Chapter Text
Inkling considered adventure to be a peculiar thing, sneaking up on one when they least expected it. It had been a long time since he had been young, but he had, just like everyone, been youthful at one point in his life with grand dreams that did not turn out quite how he expected them.
From a wealthy background, young Inkling, with his hair still russet-colored and not white with age, found himself in the cozy commission as the first lieutenant under the Captain John Pigot. Serving aboard the HMS Assurance, a 44-gun of the Royal Navy, Inkling always made sure to stay busy. With how much flitting about he did throughout the ship, delegating tasks and whatnot, the crewman liked to jest that he had more than two hands to get tasks done.
As he settled into his station, the young man swiftly learned that his captain was short-tempered and fast to dole out the harshest of punishments for the smallest mistakes. It was a good thing Inkling didn't make many egregious errors in the sight of him. Although, he couldn't help the flash of guilt as he turned a blind eye to the suffering of his crewmen who had the misfortune of being caught in the captain's ire. He figured that this was just how life at sea was and that this sort of lifestyle was necessary to turn soft landfolk into hardened sailors.
His blue-grey eyes held a note of sympathy as he went to slice through the bonds of his captain's latest target. The barrelman slumped on deck in an exhausted heap, his back in bloody tatters from the sting of the cat o' nine tails. Such was the price of being caught asleep in the crows nest, even if he had been assigned the impossible task of keeping watch four nights in a row. Inkling carefully assisted his shipmate to the medic's quarters.
Although, the first lieutenant loathed the idea of talking back to a superior officer, he did tactfully bring up the idea that perhaps Captain Pigot was being a bit too harsh on the men. Now that had turned the captain's ire on him, and he most likely would've spent a night in the brig or worse if a pirate ship had not been sighted off the port bow. If the captain craved anything more than "keeping his crew in check," it was the thrill of the hunt.
The expectancy of his first true sea battle sent a bolt of fire through Inkling's veins. As a skilled swordsman, he relished the opportunity to utilize his abilities. Although, in the heat of battle, the boyish notion of valiant skirmishes upon the high seas for justice quickly turned to ash. The roar of the cannons was enough to make him want to duck and cover his ears like a frightened child. Only his pride kept him from doing so.
The HMS Assurance cut through the brine at a fair clip, easily overtaking the small pirate vessel. When the skirmish changed to hand-to-hand combat, Inkling's foolhardy courage had all but vanished. Gone were his grand ideas of being a refined swordsman, leading the crew to a decisive victory. It was chaos all 'round and all Inkling could do was duck, slash, and stab, hoping that no one would manage to find an opening in his wildly desperate defense.
After what seemed like hours of motion and havoc, the enemy buccaneers were finally neutralized. Those who were captured alive were lined up, kneeling on the Assurance's bloodstained deck.
The world still seemed to be moving far too fast for Inkling to process. His pulse thundered in his ears and he had yet to relinquish his white-knuckled grip on his sword. He could scarcely tell if the liquid coating his clothes was the ocean, his own blood, or his enemies'.
The captain's triumphant, vindictive tone was enough to jolt him from his dazed mind. "... the sentence is death."
Inkling didn't move forward fast enough to stop Captain Pigot from opening the throat of one of the pirates.
Perhaps the battle had granted Inkling more courage than he thought. Either that, or all sense of self-preservation had been knocked from him in the naval engagement. "Wait." He moved between the captain and his prisoners. "This isn't right. Due process dictates that we take our prisoners to shore for judgment and sentencing."
"Out here, my word is law," hissed the captain, waving his cutlass in his first lieutenant's face. Red flecks of blood splashed onto the younger man's face though he did not flinch in the face of danger. "They are mangy sea dogs who need to be put down."
The vengeful captain held his blade high, cocking his arm back.
"No!"
Faster than the blink of an eye, Inkling, still running on pure adrenaline and instinct, made a harsh horizontal slash with his cutlass. There was a sickening silence that hung in the air after his captain collapsed motionless on the deck, a pool of red steadily growing under his lifeless form.
Inkling's hands shook and he let his blade fall to the deck. The clatter ringing out over the thundering of his heart. His actions barely registered in his mind.
His cousin Irving, the chief cook of the ship, surprisingly stepped up to take command. He ordered the stunned crew, "Take these men below and turn this ship toward the nearest land!"
With a gentle hand, Irving led his shell-shocked cousin away from the stirring clamor. Inkling remained in a near catatonic state until they reached safe harbor late in the night. The touch of cold steel against his throat finally brought him back to reality. His surprised gaze met the face of one of the pirate boys who had been kneeling on the deck mere hours ago. His clothes, much like Inkling's, had smears of blood staining them, and he barely looked older than Inkling.
"How did you escape?!" jolted Inkling. His hand rashly flew to his side only to realize he had left his weapon above deck.
The pirate's accent was very thick as he answered proudly, "I'm very crafty with my hands." The manner in which he held his cutlass carried an evident threat. "You, navy man, will be coming vith me, yes, yes."
"What?! But I saved you!" cried Inkling, feeling betrayed. The firmer press of the blade bade him to stand on shaky legs.
"Yes, yes. And now I am saving you," explained the pirate with a steady stare of his grey eyes. "You surely have no place among the navy after that fiasco."
'I suppose I don't.' The harsh reality that his comfortable life and career were at an abrupt end felt like a boulder had been thrown into his stomach. "B-but I can't be among pirates."
"You have no choice in the matter," replied the pirate simply, forcing Inkling out of the HMS Assurance in the dead of night. So ended Inkling's steady career.
~~~~~~~~
Inkling supposed he should've felt bitter at the pirate boy for pressing him into service under the very people he had hunted down, but he didn't. Indebted and amazed were more accurate descriptions of how he felt. Life at sea had always suited Inkling, but the kind of life at sea he had imagined was turned on its head.
Natquik, that was the pirate's name Inkling came to know well. He took him under his wing, showing the hapless ex-navy man the ins and outs of his way of life.
Always a fast learner, Inkling took to the pirate's lifestyle with surprising ease, and in some ways, outpacing Natquik. Soon enough, the crew of the Arctica dubbed the duo of Natquik and Inkling the "twin terrors."
As Inkling and Natquik matured, there came the time that they set out on their own from the crew of the Arctica to forge their own path of gold and glory. But before they could even think of forming a crew, they first needed to acquire a ship.
"She is acquaintance of mine who deals vith pirates. A little mean but gives very good information for a high price. To get a legendary ship, this is vere you want to come," reported Natquik as he nudged open the door to what appeared to be a small medical clinic that specialized in traditional methods.
Inkling couldn't begin to name the strange dried herbs hanging from the ceiling or the animal parts stuffed into glass jars lining the shelves.
The woman's almond-shaped eyes narrowed at the two young men entering her establishment. She especially eyed the swords hanging in the belts. However, her brows knitted in sharp anger as she recognized one of the visitors. She grabbed the nearest object in reach—a jar of dried scorpions—and hurled it at the pale-haired man. "I told you never to come back here, thief!"
Natquik nimbly dove aside from the lady's surprisingly good aim, hiding behind his compatriot.
"I thought you said she was a friend," hissed Inkling through his teeth, eyeing his cowering friend over his shoulder.
"Acquaintance," corrected Natquik with a shrug and sheepish grin. "And I said she vas mean."
Now the woman was shouting angrily in her native tongue.
"Wait, please," begged Inkling before she had the chance to launch anything else in their direction. He held up his money pouch, knowing as well as anyone that money talked.
The sight of money seemed to calm her significantly. In a clipped, accented voice, she questioned, "How can I help you... gentleman?"
Natquik's sidelong glance signaled that he expected Inkling to do the talking lest he set off her fury again.
"We've come about shipping business," explained Inkling.
The woman's deep red hair shook as she laughed lightly in amusement, "Then you have come to the wrong place. Did you not read the sign outside? It says 'Min's Medicines'. I have nothing here you could want."
With a flourish, Inkling pulled out a map, slightly yellowed and wrinkled from use and age, but the artistry in it was still unmarred. He pointed to the signature at the bottom of the page, "Min."
Min's annoyed gaze minutely shifted to Natquik who ducked behind his friend's shoulder again. Knowing she had been found out, she nodded them to a back room that was lined floor to ceiling with hand-drawn maps.
"I need a ship," said Inkling plainly.
She eyed them incredulously, "You do not have nearly enough for one of my exquisite maps, much less a ship!"
"You are a traveler, are you not?" questioned Inkling.
"When I can," replied Min vaguely. "Though, it is not advisable for a woman to travel alone."
"And you like collecting oddities and views from around the world?"
Min nodded.
"Then how about a deal, a promise?"
She scoffed. "How much is a pirate's promise worth?"
Inkling's blue-grey eyes met her deep brown eyes unwaveringly. "More than you would think. I was not always a pirate, but this is the hand I've been dealt and I intend to play it without losing myself. Every other year for as long as I command your ship, I will bring you a portion of my collected bounty along with any other novel treasure I think will catch your eye."
Natquik turned his head, his eyes as wide as saucers as if his friend had just lost his mind, but he held his tongue.
"Oh, a pirate with honor. That is an oddity I have had yet to witness," admitted Min. She looked at Inkling with less distrust and more curiosity in her expression now.
"I seek treasure and adventure, not blood," assured Inkling with a small bow.
After careful negotiation, Min finally acquiesced to give up command of her ship as she did not intend to sail again for a long while. When questioned about how she even acquired such a vessel, she simply smiled mysteriously and explained that the Octopod had a long history like she did.
"That is an odd name for a ship," commented Natquick. He looked over to Inkling whose expression held awe and wonder as he stared at his ship. "Though, I suppose it fits vith its strange Captain."
Chapter 2: Oh, Captain, Let’s Make a Deal
Notes:
CW: animal death
Chapter Text
Captain Inkling stepped up beside his first mate on the quarterdeck, overlooking the proceedings of his crew as they prepared to set sail. As always, the ex-Navy officer-turned-pirate-captain stood with impeccable posture, ramrod straight with his arms clasped behind his back.
In the hustle and bustle on the deck below, a young man with a shock of pale hair as white as Natquik's caught his attention. He had a sturdy build and was loading barrels on board like they weighed practically nothing.
He pointed. "When did that one come aboard?"
Natquik squinted, zeroing in on the boy his captain was pointing to. There was a hint of pride in his voice as he explained, "Barnacles? He's from my home country. He approached me at our last stop looking for work."
"Ah, so you are a bit biased I see," chuckled Inkling. "Did he not have prospects at home?"
Natquik shrugged. "My home country is very cold and very cruel, yes yes. Not much work to live from. The boy mentioned sending money back home to his sister. I see he is telling the truth. Every time we stop at a port, he runs to the post house, quick quick. He's already taken the oath."
"Do you think he's fit for a life at sea?" questioned Inkling.
Usually, he preferred to be the one to gauge a new crewman's ability before he welcomed them in permanently. However, out of his entire crew and given their shared history, he trusted his first mate's judgment the most, and he was the only one Inkling allowed to oversee the swearing in of new recruits besides himself.
The first mate gestured at how efficiently the boy was loading the ship. "I think he'll be a fair investment. And if not, well, he'll make a good meal for the sharks, yes, yes," he joked much to his captain's chagrin.
While Inkling liked to think he kept a code of honor that was stricter than most of his fellow pirates and kept his hands free of as much blood as possible, he was still a pirate and harsh punishments still applied. His first mate relished them a bit more than him.
"We shall see," said Inkling, making a mental note to speak with Barnacles after they had set out.
Later when night had fallen, Inkling made his rounds and found the young boy out on the deck, listening intently as Natquik demonstrated how to properly lash the cargo to the ship so it wouldn't fall overboard.
"Sir, captain, sir!" The cabin boy appeared startled to be approached by the captain, snapping to attention.
Natquik quietly excused himself, the knot-tying lesson over for the moment.
Though the young man dwarfed the captain by a good height, he felt like prey as the captain slowly circled him. Despite his nervousness, he made sure to steadily yet respectfully meet the captain's gaze.
Inkling appreciated to see that this young man had a spine and brain as he studied his mannerisms. "Tell me, what business has a young man like you have aboard a pirate ship?"
"What any man aboard a fine vessel needs, adventure and a living, sir," replied Barnacles.
"You've never been aboard a ship in your life, have you?"
"Captain?" Barnacles was surprised at how fast the captain made that assumption. He wasn't wrong but Barnacles had thought he'd been catching on to a life at sea rather well.
"You're still heavy on your feet for one, and you still have your manners," noted Inkling.
Barnacles tensed, answering honestly with a slightly nervous chuckle, "Well, I hope to fix the former but keep the latter in time."
"We shall see, my boy. We shall see." Inkling could see potential in the young cabin boy's hopeful response.
He had an even temperament but time would tell if it would remain so. The sea seemed to have a way of rocking loose many a man's good senses. He wouldn't be the first lad Inkling had seen that gave fully into the feral follies of pirate life.
Years passed by and Barnacles faithfully served on the Octopod, remaining true to his word. He learned the ways of piracy and living at sea yet never lost his steadiness in character. He was strong and stern when times called for it and fierce in battle, but he never used his unequaled strength to cause undue harm. Better yet, Inkling had rarely seen such unshakable loyalty to the crew in any other man.
Barnacles was content living as a no name buccaneer so long as he made his fair share enough to support his sister and remained out in the ocean where he had found he truly belonged. However, his name was soon whispered in fear and awe at every port from England to the Caribbean after one fateful stop in the far north.
The young man had just been catching his breath and wiping freezing sweat from his brow after unloading a large crate from the Octopod when screams of terror and gunshots erupted in the quiet port town. Recognizable shouts from his shipmates sent Barnacles racing over to the commotion.
Snow and slush sprayed into the air as he skidded to an abrupt halt to take in the horrific scene unfolding before him. A massive white bear rampaged in the streets snapping and clawing at anything that moved. Its blood-smeared maw opened intermittently to let loose a bellowing roar that momentarily drowned out the terrified shrieks of men. His shipmates ran for cover as the bear pursued, firing their pistols all the way. The few shots that landed seemed to have little effect on the crazed beast, if only serving to enrage it further.
Barnacles had no time to think. He just acted, charging forward and unsheathing his only weapon, his cutlass. He let out a fierce roar of his own to draw the attention of the polar bear. The beady, frenzied eyes of the beast locked onto him.
As Barnacles drew closer, he began doubting his choice of attack and weapon. He had quite the formidable body, all muscle and height, but that paled in comparison to the prowess of the wild animal that had raised itself up on its hind legs, snarling down at the man who had been foolhardy enough to challenge it single-handedly.
Barnacles was not quite so foolish as to test his strength one on one against the polar bear as he danced around its snapping fangs and batting paws. He surged upwards with his blade when he found an opening, earning a pained bellow from the animal. The creature went down on all fours, chest heaving as heavily as Barnacles' as it took stock of the deep slash beneath its armpit.
Fatigue quickly settling into muscles, Barnacles wasn't quite fast enough as the polar bear lunged forward, it's heavy paw catching him across his face. The young man cried out as the claws tore the thin flesh of his face. Blood immediately spilled from the wounds, getting into his eyes and blinding him. He felt himself fall backwards into the snow and felt the beast's hot breath against his face as it bore down on him. Any second, he was certain he would feel the beast's fangs sinking into his throat.
In one final desperate bid for survival, Barnacles thrust his cutlass blindly upwards managing to slice through the bear's lower jaw and into its skull. The bear's body gave a shudder before falling limp. With a groan and mighty heave, Barnacles grabbed fistfuls of the fur and shoved the crushing weight off of him. For a moment, he just lay there, slowly wiping the blood from his eyes and gathering his wits about him once more. He reveled in the mere fact that he was simply alive.
His fellow crewmen slowly gathered around, wonderment coating their tones.
Natquik came barreling into the scene, barking orders at the awestruck men, "Do not just stand there! Go fetch the medic, quick, quick!" He knelt beside the injured man, making sure he was still with them. "Barnacles, you realize that you have done the unimaginable, right?"
~~~~~~~~
"Captain Inkling? You called for me," questioned Barnacles, slowly opening the door to the Captain's quarters. An irrational bolt of fear shot through his stomach as he realized Natquik was also present, standing solemnly beside Inkling's desk.
Inkling motioned for the man to enter and sit down. Barnacles apprehensively settled himself in the cushioned seat across from his Captain, his large form making the chair appear almost comically small.
The wounds across his face were healing nicely, and he was extremely fortunate to still have both his eyes in working order and all his limbs intact. There was sure to be scarring, but what true pirate didn't carry his own fair share of blemishes. They would only serve as a warning to his enemies that he was not a man to be messed with. Barnacles, the Polar Bear Slayer.
Inkling went straight to business, pushing a well-worn book that bore the emblem of an octopus across his desk. The Captain's log. "I would like you to become Captain of the Octopod."
Barnacles blinked. His mind struggled to process his Captain's words. Life aboard the Octopod had shaped him from boy to man these last eight years. He had experience, but enough to be the Captain? He didn't think so. There were others onboard that had served far longer and were far more deserving of such a position. He cautioned a glance at Natquik who simply appeared at peace with these proceedings.
"Is it because..."
"Do not think your incredible feat is the only reason I am handing over the helm of the Octopod to you. I have been thinking about retirement for a while now. I'm not getting any younger," cautioned Inkling, his expression softening from hardy captain into an almost fatherlike pride. "You have incredible instincts, but better yet, I have seen you have a heart of gold. Piracy is no respectable business, but I see no reason to be complete brutes. I won't have my old girl be captained by any old ruffian."
Barnacles struggled to pull together the right words, gratitude lacing his tone, "Captain Inkling... this is such an honor. Are you sure?"
Inkling shared a chuckle with Natquik at the timidity in the burly young man's voice. "I am more certain than anything. You needn't accept quite yet if you do not feel ready, but I would like you to heavily consider this in the near future. My only condition is that you allow this old retired Captain to remain aboard your ship. I won't be in charge. I just wish to spend the rest of my days at sea and have no intent on returning to land, wasting away as a wizened old man."
"Of course," agreed Barnacles at once. He fell pensive as he considered his Captain's first proposition. He wouldn't be hasty to decide either way. "I can't say I am ready for captaincy right now. I feel I have much more to learn under your tutelage, but... perhaps give me a years time and I will ready to take the helm."
Inkling smiled at Barnacles careful deliberation. This was exactly why he had selected the man to take over the Octopod. "Very well."
Barnacles nodded respectfully, taking his leave. His stride held a new spring in it as he stepped onto the deck.
"From crewman to captain in less than a decade. That is quite the feat, yes, yes," remarked Natquik to Inkling as the young man exited.
"Most impressive indeed," agreed Inkling.
Chapter 3: A Woman on a Ship is Scandalous
Notes:
CW: referenced domestic abuse and period-typical sexism and misogyny
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tweak tilted her head and grinned, taking in the sounds of the shipyard. The hammering, sawing, and shouting were like music to her ears. Every chance she got, she ran here, even if her Pa hated her sneaking away and dressing up in his old clothes. She surreptitiously adjusted her cap, ensuring her dirty blonde locks remained carefully covered.
With her best friend Sandy away on her annual summer voyage with her family, Tweak had taken to escaping to the shipyard more often than usual. When she wasn't turning an attentive ear to the instructive words of the shipwrights, she had her gaze turned out to sea, unable to keep a twinge of envy from her heart that her best friend got to sail every year.
An unfamiliar ship in the harbor caught Tweak's eye. While it PortMiami boasted a healthy economy with many ships going in and out daily, there was something about the moderately sized brigantine that drew her in for a closer look. The fact that they flew no colors should have been a blatant signal to her that this was not a ship and crew she should have wanted to cross paths with.
People usually didn't take much notice for what they perceived to be a scrawny boy wandering the docks. At worst if she accidentally got in someone's way, they would yell and shake their fists at her, but she generally did her best to stay out of sight of most prying eyes so as not to stir up trouble anyways on the off chance someone saw through her thin disguise. Unfortunately, ogling the ship from behind a stack of crates made her appear as a shady figure, which was not tolerated by the roughened characters that sailed the ship.
A deep, displeased voice calling out, "What are you doing back here?!" was her only warning before she found herself being hoisted in the air by the back of her linen shirt.
"Hey!" Tweak found her voice registering a bit too high for the young boy she supposedly was. She tried to roughen and lower her tone as she twisted in the awkward grasp. "Put me down! I—"
One look at the piercing blue eyes, set in a wide, scarred face, and Tweak fell silent, freezing in place. She was by no means a coward, living under her father's roof had made sure of that, but she was no fool either and realized pretty quickly that she probably shouldn't be mouthing off to this man who was at least three times her size.
Still dangling by the back of her shirt collar gave her the chance to study the man in front of her. He was obviously strong and tall, cutting an imposing figure as he held her entire body weight in just one hand. The salty smell of the sea still clung to him. His hair was white but he wasn't aged, though his skin was noticeably tanned and worn from his time at sea. The tricorn hat and cutlass at his side finally keyed Tweak into what his occupation was.
"Yer a pirate," realized Tweak dumbly, looking between the man and what she assumed was his ship.
She supposed she should've felt more intimidated in the clutches of a ruthless pirate captain, but even with the jagged scars stretching across his face, she couldn't dredge up the feeling of fear as his eyes studied her with a certain intensity she couldn't place.
"You shouldn't be in places you don't belong," cautioned the pirate captain, slowly setting Tweak back on her feet.
She was quick to readjust her cap. He apparently had deemed her as no threat as he turned to depart, but she couldn't stop her curious self from blurting, "Are ya looking for a shipwright to fix your ship?"
He paused, his discerning gaze sweeping over her once more as he tilted his head questioningly.
She silently kicked herself for opening her big mouth. This was what her Pa always scolded her about, acting too loud and brash like a boy. Yet she just couldn't stop herself from gushing over the brigantine. "I can tell you've had a long voyage," she motioned toward the ship, "the worn wood, tattered sails, lots'a barnacles down there. But that doesn't hide the fact she's a magnificent girl. How fast can she go?"
The captain's neutral expression turned into one of mild amusement as he tried to make out whether the words were genuine or nervous flattery. He answered, pride coloring his tone, "She can go about 8 knots on a fair day. You'll never see a finer nor faster ship in all Europe."
"Europe?!" started Tweak. Now she could place his foreign accent. She supposed her Southern drawl must be equally as foreign to him.
She peered back at the ship again, her eyes searching and calculating. There was a flash of challenge in her gaze as she crossed her arms and stomped her foot determinedly. "I know someone who can make her the fastest ship in the world."
~~~~~~~~
Barnacles followed the young woman, quite astounded by this turn of events. She was certainly a spirited lass, although he could have already made that out from the fact she was traipsing around the docks dressed in man's clothes.
She took him to a family-owned business of shipbuilders, the Reaver's. The family was obviously off-put by the presence of a pirate, however, after some cajoling and assurances on Tweak's part, they acquiesced to her plans. It appeared they had the same zeal as her for their work.
As they bustled away to gather supplies and prepared to pull the Octopod into the dry dock for repairs, Barnacles had a moment where he was once again alone with the woman. "They called you Tweak?"
"Yes, sir," answered the young woman shortly, fiddling with corner of the blueprints she had drawn up. Her name was unusual but gave little clue about her identity. She knew he was prodding her but she wanted to remain ambiguous in his eyes. Although, he'd clearly discerned something about her already. "And you're...?"
"Captain Barnacles." He could see that his name held no significance to her. "You seem to know a lot about ships," observed Barnacles, greatly impressed by her detailed sketching of his ship from pure memory and her proposed improvements.
"When ya hang 'round a shipyard, ya tend to pick up a thing or two," shrugged Tweak modestly. "Don't think my Pa'd approve of it as my career."
"Why not?"
Tweak almost gave herself away, just barely catching herself and answering vaguely, "'Cause I'm— he just wouldn't."
"Because you are a woman?" questioned Barnacles, finishing her sentence for her. Her head jerked up in surprise, and he chuckled. He had considered allowing her to continue her ruse and simply compliment her work in hope to subtly coerce her to further display her unique skill set, but Inkling had very much taught him the value of honesty, even in their dishonest line of work. Therefore, he explained his true aim to her.
"Yes, I can tell. I am not a Captain for my lack of understanding. The only thing I take interest in is your abilities," he said, trying to put her at ease, and motioned to her drawings. "To be quite honest, I find myself in need of a new crew member, and it seems that fortune has smiled upon me. My old girl is in quite the rough shape as my old bosun disembarked right before we crossed the Atlantic. You seem to know her as if you had built her with your own hands from just one glance. You have remarkable talent that would be wasted if gone unused."
"But you're pirates," hesitated Tweak.
Though she felt greatly flattered that he had taken notice of her expertise and her heart fluttered with longing, she searched the giant of a man before her for any sign of deceit or ulterior motive. She wouldn't rush headlong into danger, but she didn't find any malice in the Captain's clear, steady gaze.
"Yes, we are buccaneering brigands. We make our living by taking from others," acknowledge the Captain at once, "but I do not run a crew that lives off of the misery of others." He nodded his head at her cap. A spark of challenge lit his eyes. "And I would not want to ask this of you as your true self, Tweak, unless I meant it entirely. You are a woman who craves a life at sea. I can offer you that."
After thinking it over and coming to the firm conclusion that this pirate was being remarkably truthful, Tweak gave her reply, "And I can offer you the best maintained pirate ship on all the seven seas."
There was quite the stir when Barnacles first introduced Tweak to the crew, naming her as the new bosun. The first new crewman accepted onto the Octopod during Barnacles' captaincy and it wasn't a man at all but a woman?! To those dissatisfied and questioning their Captain's authority, he boldly invited them the option of abandoning ship. A few lesser crewmen left in the belief that inviting a woman onboard was equivalent to inviting calamity.
The longtime carpenter of the Octopod worked closely with Tweak during the repair period. He realized her skill was undeniable but he chafed under the idea of being under a woman. So fragile was his pride that he attempted to bully and intimidate Tweak, going so far as to whisper lies to his fellow mates that she had earned her way onboard via licentious means.
He quickly found that Tweak not only possessed a fair amount of engineering knowledge but formidable fighting skills. She could deal out blows just as well she could take them. His bruised ego matched his bruised ribs and broken nose as he was sent packing from the Octopod via Tweak's fists.
Captain Barnacles allowed her to fight her own battles and forge her place among the crew herself. He knew he had chosen right when she refused to be cowed or take disrespect from anyone. And for that, she was named bosun and carpenter.
Tweak appreciated the sentiment but she had almost forgotten that he was still a pirate captain who could be as ruthless as any other man when an outsider came against his crew. He had not been named the terrible Polar Bear Slayer for nothing she learned.
"What do you think yer doin', young lady?! You've always been nothin' but trouble, but this is too much!"
Tweak froze in place. Her Pa's angry words were like ice down her entire spine. She slowly turned, finding her furious father standing on the Octopod's deck.
Father and daughter exchanged sharp, disdainful words and curses in front of the entire crew. When cruel words would not convince Tweak to return to her lot in life under his roof, he moved to grab her wrist and force her to return with him. His other hand reeled back to strike her for such insolence. Tweak had shown she could fight, but there was that small part of her so used to his mistreatment that refused to strike back against her Pa.
Captain Barnacles arrived on deck. His eyes were like ice as he threw her father just about clear across the deck. He ordered the old man from his presence and warned him that he'd lose his hands should he dare to touch any of his crew.
"You're no daughter of mine!"
When the man unwisely tried to bite out a last word before he turned tail and flee, Barnacles sent his fist crashing into his cheek.
As her father whimpered and nursed his well-deserved wounds, Tweak spat at her father and declared in no uncertain terms that she belonged to the crew of the Octopod. She matched Barnacles' stony expression as they sailed away from PortMiami. Smoke billowed in certain places of the harbor she had once believed to be home, symbols of the wrath of Captain Barnacles should one ever be so foolish as to threaten his crew.
Notes:
I am so sorry for making Ranger Marsh out to be a terrible father in this AU.
Chapter 4: A Pirate’s Life for Me
Chapter Text
Kwazii had always been a scrappy wisp of a boy, although his time marooned on this forsaken island had made him even leaner. Like every other day since he had arrived on Parrot Island, he turned his deep amber eyes out to the vast ocean, scanning for hours on end for anything of note. He sighed as his view remained the same as always, just an endless horizon stretching out to the unknown.
He hopped down from the wide branch he had deemed his "lookout platform" and languidly stretched, thinking over what he could do next. Once he had conquered the basics of survival such as food, water, and shelter, there was precious little else to do. He had easily located the hidden treasure buried in the eye of the distinctly shaped island. His mutinous crew, the fools that they were, hadn't even tried searching for it themselves before dumping him here with little more than the clothes on his back.
He checked on his sizable stash, turning the gold and jewels over in his hand before letting them fall back into the pile. As they clinked uselessly together, he couldn't help but frown bitterly at the shiny knick-knacks. A lot of good the riches could do him now. They couldn't buy him a shiny new vessel.
A thickly accented voice cut through the sounds of the island. "This seems to be quite the easy steal, yes, yes."
Kwazii's head snapped up and he was on his feet in a flash and running toward the first sound of human contact he'd had in months. In hindsight, perhaps his greeting could have been a lot more peaceful had he not jumped out of the bushes like some feral animal, shocking the small scouting group half to death. The wiry man just barely avoided having his head lopped off by parrying a surprised swipe of a blade with his own rusty cutlass.
"Oi, no need for that, mateys!" cried Kwazii, retreating out of reach.
Clarity followed by disbelief settled into the eldest of the scout's eyes as he took in the boy dressed in rags. The freckles that dotted his cheeks stood out against his weathered skin. Natquik's attention was quickly drawn to the primitive patch cut from leaves that covered the boy's right eye. The barest hint of pink scar tissue peaked out from beneath it.
In the moment of calm, Kwazii also had the opportunity to analyze the intruders. Anger flashed through his countenance as he recognized them to be pirates. Although, it dissipated just as quickly as it had come as he realized they were not from the same crew that had cast him aside.
Realizing his options were slim, Kwazii attempted to straighten himself, putting on a superior air as he made a bargain. His voice came out sly and confident as he recognized he had something these men sought after. He would be leaving this island as a passenger and not a prisoner. "Hmm, I assume yer here for the buried treasure, aint'ya?"
"You assume correct, yes yes," affirmed the old white-haired man.
"I know where it is. You wouldn't wanna chase your tails all over this island pointlessly, so I'll cut ye a deal. I give you the treasure, and I get a ride on yer ship to anywhere I ask."
"Does it look like we run a passenger frigate to ya?" snapped one of the crewmen.
Natquik silenced him with a snap of his fingers, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he considered the ginger-haired youth in front of him. Clearly, he was a liar and desperate. As if Natquik and his men wouldn't be able to simply overpower him and take the treasure for themselves, no matter how cleverly the boy might have hidden it. However, the first mate was not so heartless as to leave the young boy stranded alone. He would allow Captain Barnacles to have the final say in his fate. He gestured to the boy to follow him back to the ship. Kwazii eagerly obliged.
"Who's captain here?" asked Kwazii boldly as soon as he was aboard the Octopod.
"That would be me," answered Barnacles, stepping onto deck.
Kwazii felt some of his boldness wilt as he took in the hulking form and seasoned scars of the Captain. However, that still didn't prevent him from drawing his cutlass and impetuously delcaring, "Well then, I, Kwazii, challenge ye to a duel for captaincy. By right of the Pirate Code, defend ye honor."
Natquik gasped, stepping forward in outrage. "This is how you repay my mercy?! I could have slit your throat and just been done with it."
"As if ya could!" hissed Kwazii. "Me last crew tried that before deciding I be too much trouble for the effort. All they got was me eye!" He jabbed a finger at his crudely made eye patch.
"You're quite the arrogant one, aren't you?" noted Barnacles calmly, shifting the boy's attention to him again.
"I prefer the term confident," clarified Kwazii, angling the tip of his blade provokingly at the captain. "Now, will ya fight me or are ya too much of a coward?"
Natquik's hands flashed to his cutlass, ready to take care of the nuisance himself, but Captain Barnacles drew his weapon first.
"Very well. I, Captain Barnacles of the Octopod, accept your terms," assented the Captain.
No sooner had the words left his lips did he find himself fending off an impressive flurry of attacks. Clearly, Kwazii had been hoping to catch Barnacles unaware, but Barnacles had years of experience on his side and easily matched his strikes blow for blow. Surprise shone in Kwazii's amber eye as he realized that the Captain was far quicker than he appeared.
Throughout their duel, Barnacles remained stone-faced. Half his attention went into anticipating boy's next moves while the other half was dedicated to considering what he should do with the lad.
Something about his time on the island with no contact had made the boy almost feral with the need to challenge anyone accessible. Perhaps that unruliness was what had gotten him kicked from his last crew, though Barnacles was doubtful. He deduced it was far more likely that Kwazii held resentment for his past pirate crew and held very little trust for this new buccaneering band that had recently shown up on his island but had precious few options if he wanted out. Barnacles could clearly see the from how the boy nimbly weaved through the rigging that he knew his way around a ship very well.
Kwazii circled Barnacles, keeping the Captain always in motion. His amber eye flickered back and forth as he searched for an opening that the large man would not allow him. To make up for the difference in height, he would leap atop cargo or climb up the ratlines to rain down blows on the Captain. When his opponent fended him off well and seemed to be gaining the upper hand, then he would twist away in an impressive show of acrobatic flips.
Although, no matter how well Kwazii adapted to his fighting environment, the Octopod was Barnacles' ship and he knew her far better. When Kwazii impulsively darted forward when the Captain baited him out by turning his back on where he positioned himself, the Captain swiftly severed the lines holding the gaff sail. This caused the boon to swing wide right into the path of Kwazii.
The spry boy was quick enough to duck out of the way, but the momentary glance away was all the opening that the Captain needed to close the distance between them and land a solid kick to Kwazii's ribs that sent him sprawling across the deck and knocking the wind from him. His rusty cutlass was knocked from his hand and went clattering across the deck far out of reach.
The crew roared with applause for the unexpected bout of entertainment and their Captain's victory. Kwazii slowly sat himself upright and lowered his head, accepting his fate. He had taken a huge gamble and lost.
"Get up," ordered Captain Barnacles.
Kwazii's good eye was flooded with disbelief as he slowly got to his feet, watching as the Captain sheathed his blade.
"I don't know which crew you were a part of and I don't care. You are aboard my ship now and I don't adhere to dishonorable, ruthless means. I treat my friends kindly and give my enemies their due justice. So which do you wish to be, friend or foe?"
Kwazii stood in silent bewilderment. Was the Captain actually giving him an out or was it all a trick? If he was being genuine, then the marooned boy was beginning to feel rather foolish for acting prematurely and trying to takeover the ship by force. He was unlike any pirate Kwazii had come across in his few short years at sea.
"I dunno," he answered honestly, staring searchingly into the ice blue eyes of the unusually merciful Captain. "I didn't think you'd wanta be be friends after that stunt."
The corner of Barnacles' mouth twitched amusedly at Kwazii hesitation. He jerked his head toward the island, "Well then, while you show me where you hid away the treasure, I can explain just why I would make such an offer."
He didn't believe it was by fate that they had run across him in the middle of nowhere. He wished to confirm his instincts.
The wariness returned to Kwazii's gaze as he considered that the Captain was just using him to get to the riches, but found himself walking in step with the man through the vegetation after the Captain pointed out, "They aren't doing you any good here."
"So if yer thinkin' of flattering me, just know it won't work," cautioned Kwazii as he led the way to his stash.
"Do I look the type to kiss anyone's boots?" scoffed Captain Barnacles. "I offered you an out because I'd rather have such a fighting spirit at my side than coming for my throat. As hardy as you are, staying here is not an option for someone like you. For all your energy, a lonely, sedentary life on land does not suit nor satisfy you. While you're a part of my crew, I can assure you that you will never be abandoned and that you will have your life of adventure."
"Has anyone told ya that yer scarily good at readin' people, Cap'n?" asked Kwazii with a twinkle in his eye as he considered the Captain's words. He had offered exactly everything that Kwazii wanted in life.
More inclined to share about himself than before, he agreed and probed the Captain's ideals. Kwazii explained, "Y'know me last Cap'n tried ta off me fer mutiny. I wouldn't follow through with his orders ta sink a whole competing crew we'd crippled off the coast o' the island. Called me a coward, tried to end me, then left me here to rot."
"You're a far better man than him, and I believe you'll do just fine on the Octopod," assured Captain Barnacles, casting a significant look over at Kwazii. "And it seems my instincts were right. You've got something I value even more than your fast reflexes, a heart of gold."
"Cap'n Barnacles, I hope ye know that you've got yerself a loyal crewman for life," declared Kwazii, trying to keep his voice from shaking with emotion.
He didn't think himself the type to be swayed by empty words or promises as he was a man of action himself, but Captain Barnacles did not seem anything but genuine. Kwazii knew that from that moment forward that he'd follow this man into the depths of Davy Jones' Locker if he asked it of him. After living the majority of his life as a stray, he had finally found home.
Notes:
Bonus:
Upon returning to the Octopod with the treasure in tow, Barnacles was curious to see how Kwazii would assimilate into the entire crew, namely their more unique members. The discovery that seafaring apparently ran through his lineage was an added bonus.
"Cap'n Barnacles, I do believe you've got a woman aboard yer vessel," said Kwazii, stating the obvious as he was introduced to Tweak.
"And so?" questioned Tweak, arching an eyebrow challengingly. If this boy wanted to be knocked on his butt twice in one day, she would happily oblige.
"And I think me grandmum would've been proud," chuckled Kwazii. A crooked grin formed on his face as he extending his hand to shake hers heartily. "I guess ye are a rare breed of crew after all."
"And who was your granny?" questioned Tweak, curious as to why he would make such an odd comment.
"Anne Bonny. And me granddad were Calico Jack," revealed Kwazii proudly.
That had pulled a whooping laugh from Natquik who had easily warmed to Kwazii after their rought start. "So seawater is in your blood. Mark my vords, boy, you'll be standing in my place one day vith those spitfire ancestors."
Chapter 5: The Ship is in the Harbor Now
Notes:
No content warnings apply.
Chapter Text
Shellington realized that perhaps trying to steal from pirates was definitely on his top five list of stupidest moves by him, especially as he was a woefully amateur and uncoordinated thief. However, he seemed to have picked the right ship to stumble upon and attempt to rob in the Port of Aberdeen. He could not bite back a ridiculously giddy laugh as he laid eyes on the office that seemed to be stocked floor to ceiling with volumes upon volumes. He didn't think any seamen to be quite so well-read or at all interested in academic knowledge.
He should have just grabbed whatever appeared most expensive and high-tailed it out of there to make profit. To his detriment, he lingered to scan through the book titles that caught his interest, even going as so far as to crack one open to skim through the contents. He was so invested in his reading that he failed to make out the heavy footfalls drawing nearer.
The lock clicked open and the door slammed against the wall as an elderly man hurried in, barking at the startled thief, "Who goes there?!"
Shellington scrambled to gather up whatever was in reach–books, papers, and pamphlets– hoping that they were of some value. His eyes darted around the room, realizing that his only means of escape was blocked by the man in the doorway.
Adrenaline was doing wonders for him because instead being his normally mild mannered self, he set himself and charged at the man in the doorway, fully prepared to bowl him over in his bid to escape. Even if he had to make his living as a thief, he had no great desire to injure people in his illegal escapades. Another evidence of his inexperience was that he did not carry a weapon, but he had been hyperaware of the shiny cutlass hanging at the waist of the man who had discovered him. Knowing the man was a pirate with no option for legal recourse, Shellington knew getting caught would most certainly mean dire injury or even death.
Clumsy though he was, Shellington made use of his lanky form, barely managing to slip past the reach of the man whose reflexes were just a touch too slow. Once he sprinted out onto the deck, he practically considered himself scot-free as not a soul was in sight to stop his escape.
"Avast ye, scallywag! No one steals from me crew!"
Of course, this wasn't the first nor would it be the last time Shellington's spatial awareness failed him. That wild shout was all the warning he got before boots connected with his back, sending him sprawling. Papers went flying everywhere as he tumbled the rest of his way down the gangplank. Not even bothering with trying to steal anything anymore and more interested in getting away alive, he tried to spring to his feet and sprint away. He didn't get very far.
With a theatric twirl, the ginger-haired pirate who had accosted him dismounted from the rope he had used to swoop in and kick him off his feet. He landed neatly on his feet and drew his cutlass, bristling at the roughened up thief.
Shellington held his arms up in surrender, immediately knowing he was outclassed. He may have had the pirate beaten in the height department, but he was not about to test his lackluster combat skills against a young man around his age with that challenging gleam in his good eye. Certain that the heartless seaman would simply skewer him on spot, he began to beg for his life.
"Oi, matey. Talk slower! I can't understand a word you're saying," cried Kwazii as he tried to make sense of the fast-talking thief's Scottish accent.
When the brown-haired man simply blubbered onward, the first mate rolled his eyes and moved his blade against the thief's throat. That shut the thief up rather quickly. He couldn't help but wonder if Natquik, the former first mate of the Octopod, had to deal with such ridiculousness.
While Kwazii still had the tendency to act before thinking, his time as his Captain's number two had evened him out just slightly and he wasn't one to dole out punishments without the Captain's orders. He gestured for the intruder to return onboard the ship. "Up ye go again. We'll let the Captain deal with ye."
Shellington's knees were knocking together so badly that he hadn't the slightest idea how he even made his way back aboard the ship. When he was met with the scarred face of the Captain, his knees actually did give out. He had always been rather tall, but he lacked the muscled width of this imposing pirate. He found that he couldn't meet the Captain's icy stare for more than a few seconds.
"I'm sorry! I didnae mean—"
"You mean you're sorry you got caught," corrected the Captain in a deep, bitter tone. His eyes narrowed as he considered what to do with this thief. It was a blow to his ego that the likes of a scraggly, bumbling bandit even accomplished half a theft attempt.
"Yeah, what be goin' on in that head o' yours that makes ye think ye can steal from pirates?" piped in Kwazii.
"I dunno. I- er, I saw an opportunity and I took it. How's that much different from what you do?" answered Shellington honestly, offering a question of his own.
The one-eyed boy tilted his head, considering his words. "Y'know, he makes a fair point, Cap'n."
"The difference being you got caught. I don't take kindly to those who cross us," growled Captain Barnacles. "How about we take the Octopod a ways offshore and see if this thief is a better swimmer than he is a runner?"
"Wait."
A word from Inkling halted the Captain's judgment. Although his time at the Octopod's helm was long over and whatever Barnacles commanded was the final word, he still held significant sway within the crew.
"Out of all the objects onboard, you went after the books. Why?" probed Inkling, adjusting his monocle to get a better look at the young chap down on his luck. "I believe we have the finest wine stolen from an Italian merchant and spices from a foreign market, which could be sold at a far higher price, and yet you still went after my dusty old collections."
Shellington couldn't stop a self-deprecating chuckle from falling past his lips. "Well, I'm sure you kin tell I'm not a very good thief, and believe it or not, I was a studious lad 'fore life took a turn. I guess that carried over to my new trade."
"And how did life take a turn?" prodded Inkling gently.
Shellington felt his eyebrows knit together in an expression of deliberation. Why were the pirates he had just tried to steal from questioning him about his life experiences? "I lost my scholarship and got expelled from university."
Now he was prepared for the next probing question. "Why?"
"I gravely injured someone," admitted Shellington. His hands stopped fidgeting and any expected expression of guilt vanished from his face, changing to a solemnly unrepentant visage.
Murmuring broke out among the gathered crewman at the first sign that this amateur thief had some backbone to him.
"He hurt my sister. I don't regret it," asserted Shellington, finally gathering the nerve to meet the Captain's cold glare.
Perhaps it was his wounded pride talking, but Captain Barnacles wasn't about take the Scotsman's story at face value, even if his instincts were telling him the man was being completely sincere.
"If you are telling the truth, then take us to this sister of yours so I can confirm your story," demanded the pirate Captain. Seeing the spark of alarm race across the thief's features, Barnacles allowed his tone to soften just slightly as he assured, "You have my honor no harm will come to her."
"I'm not sure how much your 'pirate's honor' means to me. You must be daft if you think I'm letting you anywhere near my sister," sneered Shellington defensively, uncaring if his brash words further inflamed the Captain's ire against him. He wouldn't agree to anything if ensuring his safety meant endangering his sister's.
"Now see 'ere," spoke up Kwazii, bristling on his Captain's behalf. "Cap'n Barnacles be the most honorable pirate in all the seven seas. If he says we won't hurt yer sister, we won't." A split second glance and half a nod of approval was all it took for understanding to pass between the first mate and his captain. "'Sides, the Cap'n here knows what it be like to have a sister to care fer. That's how he got started in the whole pirate business in the first place."
Shellington's entire perception of the roughened pirate changed in an instant. He might not have been the best at reading people, but he generally had a good idea if they were lying. To his surprise, these buccaneers were being completely honest with him. He found himself once again questioning why they hadn't murdered him on the spot and been done with it. Not that he wasn't grateful for still being in one piece, he was just confused.
Reluctantly, the thief agreed to introduce his sister to the pirates on the condition they wait until nightfall when she was done with her work as a laundress. At least she had managed to find a more respectable occupation than he. His brief stint during the daytime as prisoner gave him a better look at the dynamics of the Octopod. The crew was unlike any other he'd witnessed before.
Under the watchful eye of Inkling, he was made to clean up the mess he'd made of the study. Once done, the elderly man had surprised Shellington by inviting him to read with him. The Scotsman tried and failed to keep his outward excitement to a minimum. However, he got the impression that Inkling rather appreciated sharing his vast collection and knowledge with someone who had a keen interest in learning.
When the sky darkened and Shellington was sure his sister would be home, he hesitantly lead the Captain to his humble abode. On the way, he tried to break up the pressing quiet by asking, "You have a sister? What's her name?"
His muddy brown eyes stayed intensely focused on the Captain's scarred face, searching for any signs of deceit but only finding a distant fondness warming his features. "Bianca." The Captain's pale eyes met Shellington's with a mix of wariness and curiosity. "And yours?"
"... Pearl" revealed the thief after a moment's hesitation as he stopped in front of the door to their shoddy home.
"Oh, Shellington!" cried Pearl, rushing up to her brother but pulling up short at the sight of the giant of a man looming behind her brother and the cringing expression of guilt adorning her brother's face. She always feared he'd fall in with the wrong crowd or get caught one day. She backed away, her weathered hands resting protectively on the noticeable swell of her stomach as her brother stepped forward to comfort her. "What's going on?"
A brief once over of the room and the condition of Pearl was all it took to assuage Captain Barnacles' simmering anger at the slight of the Scotsman's attempted robbery. The fact that he instantly recognized them to be twins, sharing many of the same features, only served to further soften his heart. For just a moment, he saw himself in Shellington's position and Pearl in Bianca's, understanding the deep desperation that came with wanting to provide for family.
Thus, Barnacles offered the Scotsman a place in his crew. He couldn't promise it would be anymore honorable than Shellington's career as a thief but it would most likely be more lucrative and he could guarantee that Pearl would not be left wanting.
A wide, disbelieving grin broke out on Shellington's face. He couldn't think of a better ship he could've have tried to steal from. The Captain had shown him mercy and given a golden opportunity to a man down on his luck. Shellington couldn't say he had much to give in return, except his top notch brain, but whatever skills the Captain required of him, the Scotsman would willingly learn. So long to the life of lonely thief.
Chapter 6: She Ran off to Sea
Notes:
CW: subtle references to internalized racism
Chapter Text
Dashi pulled her worn cloak tighter around her shoulders, keeping her face concealed in the shadows of its hood as she stepped into the grimy pub. The stench of alcohol, sweat, and salt hit her full force as she nudged open the rickety door to the establishment. As she weaved her way over to the bar, she picked up snatches of conversation from the weary, drunken seamen gathered at the tables, complaining of the massive storm that had sprang up out of nowhere overnight. She held back a derisive scoff. She predicted that tempest days ago based on the sea and wind patterns.
A part of her basked in her flicker of rebellion by coming out to the very place her parents strictly forbade her. It wasn't her fault their ostentatious estate happened to be tantalizingly close to a regular haunt for pirates. This was one of the few means of defiance she afforded herself.
"Hey, Ryla," greeted Dashi to the stout barmaid who had just been shouting orders to the staff.
"Oi, what's got my favorite Sheila feeling crook?" questioned Ryla, instantly catching onto the younger woman's despondency.
As the daughter of a wealthy merchant, Dashi was far from a regular face down at the pirate-infested docks, unsafe and improper environment and such. But whenever she was present, Ryla knew it was either because her adventurous spirit tempted her out or home became overbearing. Whatever the case, the experienced barmaid was always willing to treat the girl kindly and give her a listening ear.
Dashi explained her current plight. She really didn't want to be like the weepy maidens she read of in her books, but she couldn't help but feel like one now, more than ever. Complete with an arranged marriage to boot. Her family meant well, thinking it would do her good to settle down in comfort with a well-to-do Englishman. Her mother seemed particularly concerned with marrying her off. Dashi couldn't understand why her mother was so insistent upon denying anything to do with her Aboriginal heritage to the point of promising her daughter's hand in marriage to keep the family line "pure."
Her betrothed was over fifteen years her senior. In the handful of times she had met him, Mr. Barnet had been cordial enough if a bit boring in his expectations of her to be a loyal lapdog of a wife. She just could not imagine spending the rest of her days with him as a husband, but no one would hear out her objections.
"So run away," advised Ryla simply.
Dashi's chocolate brown eyes grew wide at her friend's unbothered response. She sputtered, "I-I can't just sail away."
Ryla had a daring twinkle in her eye as she leaned over the bar closer to Dashi. "And why not? Sell all those lovely paintings of yours. I bet you'll make plenty enough from 'em to buy yourself a ship." She gestured to the inebriated men spread about her pub. "And I bet you can sail better'n any of these men here. Your father taught you how, didn't he?"
That was true, against her mother's better judgment, her father had indulged her interest in nautical endeavors. Still, Dashi protested, her many etiquette lessons echoing in her mind, "It's not proper."
"Neither is you being here, but here you stand," remarked Ryla with an arched eyebrow. "I'm telling you, life's too short to be playing 'good girl' all your life. When opportunity knocks, seize it."
Dashi gave a sad, half-smile. "I'll think about it, Ryla. Thanks for listening."
Although born to powerful family, very seldom did she feel like she had much agency in her life. Deep down, she did yearn to run and leave this stifling life behind, to be as free as the breeze on the seas. Maybe this new development was finally the kick in the tail she needed to take action. Maybe.
"Anytime," grinned Ryla.
As Dashi navigated the streets back home, she made sure to move quickly and confidently as if she belonged here. Any sign of meekness or hints of her wealthy background was just asking for trouble. This usually worked to keep people from approaching her and she'd never had any issues leaving, except for today.
She let loose a high yelp as she felt someone grab ahold of her ragged cloak. She whipped around frantically, finding herself staring up into the face of a very large and very dangerous-looking pirate. From the way the man's weary eyes widened, she could tell he wasn't expecting her to be underneath the hood.
The gentleness in his tone surprised her as he dipped his head and hunched himself slightly so that he wasn't completely towering over her. "I did not mean to frighten you. Can you tell me where we are? Our ship was caught in that tempest last night, and I fear we are far from our desired destination."
Dashi narrowed her eyes, trying to determine what she should do next. Her hands nervously fidgeted in the folds of her cloak, pulling it tightly over her finer dress underneath. The man seemed honest enough, that is, honest for a pirate. But what if it was a trick? What if his true aim was to pillage her family's estate? Surely he couldn't have known who she was.
"Please. My crew is ready to depart as soon as we have a heading," urged the giant of a man.
Against her better judgment, she began to converse with this strangely amiable buccaneer. "What was your original destination?"
"The Asian Islands."
"The Asian Islands!" echoed Dashi, unable to keep the astonishment from her voice.
The pale-haired man perked up, "You've heard of them. Are they far?"
Dashi nodded. "Very far. You're on the Southwest side of Australia, between Esperance and the Recherche Archipelago. The Asian Islands are far north." She motioned to the spray of islands in the distance. "You're kind like to hide out there."
The pirate narrowed his eyes, snorting offendedly. "My kind? And your kind no doubt enjoy the luxurious life of the mainland."
Captain Barnacles could see in the instant he had locked eyes with the petite Aussie that she didn't belong in a place like this. Although she had swiftly pulled her worn cloak tighter around herself, the glimpse of her was all it took for him to realize her higher status in life. Her dress underneath was of fine, light pink cloth, her tanned hands lacked the callouses of hard labor, and her hair appeared well washed, not oily and raggedy.
He watched in mild amusement as the young lady tried to hide her surprise by feigning ignorance. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that a normal lady of class would not be wandering through a place of ruffians. You clearly have far better manners and poise than anyone else around," observed the pirate aloud.
As if to prove his point, a man came stumbling by while making the idiom "swearing like a sailor" all too true. A few lumbering steps down the street and he doubled over to puke.
Dashi wrinkled her nose at the foul display, but quickly pulled her attention back to her troubles. Now that the he had recognized her as a wealthy individual, she feared what he would do next. Already, she was cautiously backing away. "So, what are you going to do with that information?"
A disgusted sneer appeared on the man's scarred face as he assured her, "I can promise you I have no intention of ransoming you back to your family for money, if that's what you're thinking. Only the cowardly hide behind the blood of innocents to obtain riches. I only needed to know our location. Now that I have that, my crew and I will be on our way."
Dashi hadn't interacted with many pirates in her day, but she was certain that this one was the oddest one she'd ever come across. She blurted, "You can't leave tomorrow."
"What?" Now the pirate's voice had taken on an icy edge. Clearly, he didn't like being told what he could and could not do.
"You'll run into another bad storm," advised Dashi, finding her courage in discussing things she knew. "Give it three days, and the weather will be perfect for sailing up north."
The pirate captain eyed her curiously, taken aback that she would know anything about sailing.
In response to his obvious doubt, she simply replied, "I know the sea and I know how to watch weather patterns."
Deciding to press his luck, Captain Barnacles challenged how she had learned such a skill and invited her to showcase it to him. When she didn't take the obvious bait, he dismissed her, "Fine. No doubt you have a comfortable life waiting for you at home. Don't let me keep you from it."
Dashi felt her breath catch in her throat as the strange pirate turned to leave. Whether she returned home or took the pirate's blatant offer, her life was sure to change. Whether she was the one enacting that change was a different matter altogether. Ryla's words were fresh on her mind, 'When opportunity knocks, seize it.' Was this her opportunity?
She called after the pirate, hesitantly offering, "Wait... I can chart a course for you to catch the best winds."
Before Dashi knew it, she was standing on a real life pirate ship, the Octopod. As soon as they entered the captain's office (she had come to find out his name was Captain Barnacles), a frazzled man snapped to attention and nervously wrung his hands beside a desk littered with charts.
"Captain, I am so sorry. I had no idea we—"
"All is well, Shellington," calmed the Captain, holding up a steadying hand. "It seems our accidental detour was not so misfortunate after all."
The Scotsman's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull when he took in the individual trailing behind the Captain. His jaw worked up and down as he seemed to struggle to form words, but to his benefit the Captain dismissed him and he hurried out of the room, red in the face.
Dashi set to business, sketching out a clear route to the north on a fresh piece of paper, grateful for her artistic skills. She could see the frantic scribbles of other people on the maps, no doubt from when the crew was caught up in that raging tempest.
As he oversaw her work, Captain Barnacles didn't ask, merely stating an observation. "You're a lady of adventure."
Dashi's laugh came out airily and almost wistfully, "Not often. Usually more in books and dreams than real life." Her voice took on a more sarcastic tone as she parroted her tutor, "Adventure and exploration aren't befitting a genteel lady of my station."
"But wouldn't you rather chase adventure than be running from home?"
The pirate's words were like a block of ice settling in her gut. Dashi paused in her plotting before she made an accidental streak through her work. "Who says I'm running?"
The Captain held his calloused hands up in appeasement. "Your business is your own, but most people content with their lots in life are not found slumming among roughened buccaneers." He made his offer, challenge and promise in his tone. "So, Dashi, lady of adventure, I must ask, will choose to sail with us?"
~~~~~~~~
Kwazii sidled up beside the Captain, lazily picking his ear with his pinky finger. His tone was dubious as he eyed the newest crewmate who was getting to know Tweak, "You sure she'll do all right at sea? She's, ah, quite the refined lady, innit she?"
"I do believe some refinement is needed for this lively crew," chuckled Inkling, humorously eyeing the first mate specifically.
"Everyone has a place here," answered Captain Barnacles simply. He knew that the Octopod needed her as much as she needed the Octopod.
Chapter 7: A Kid in the Caribbean
Notes:
CW: ableist remarks, allusions to slave traders
Chapter Text
Tunip, by and large, avoided people of all kinds. He had no family, not even memories of them to latch onto. For as long as he knew, it had just been him and his marine companions in this little slice of paradise in the Caribbean. The few people who did venture out to his tiny island treated the creatures there with contempt, so the young boy had little reason to believe they would treat him any better should they stumble across him hidden among the gnarled roots and vines of the jungle. But curiosity for the visitors occasionally got the better of him, and he would attempt to creep closer for a better view. They looked like him, almost.
A shrill cry broke from his mouth as he slipped from his safe perch on the mangrove roots. He fell into the water below with a resounding splash. As familiar as he was with his home, every so often he would misstep. Usually this resulted in no harm done, but this time, with strangers visiting his island, it brought unwanted attention to himself.
As he swam to the surface coughing and spluttering, the people were upon him in an instant, painfully yanking him up from the water by his long, unruly hair.
Exclamations of horror went up from the small band of men at the sight of the wild child.
"Looky 'ere, boys. We got ourselves a deformed demon!" bellowed the one gripping the boy by his dirty blonde mane.
The men had come for some hunting and restocking supplies before the final push to arrive in Jamaica. They hadn't expected a half-naked, bowlegged child to appear out of nowhere. In some patches, his skin was dry and scaly from sun damage and upon closer inspection, his pinky and ring finger were fused together.
There was some debate over what to do with him, but Tunip could not understand the people, no more than they could understand his words. He realized his instincts to stay far away from strange people had been right. They were cruel. Their hands offered no gentleness as they forced him onto their ship that reeked of waste matter and fear.
However, the men who captured him greatly underestimated his abilities, assuming that he would not even attempt to escape with his bent legs after shoving him into a dank, dark room. The young boy simply ambled his way to the side of the ship when no one was observing him and hoisted himself up and over the railing.
He bobbed up and down among the ocean waves, watching the nasty ship sail off into the distance. When he scanned the horizon, panic began setting in as he realized there was not a landform in sight, only the vast ocean stretching out before him. He randomly selected a direction to begin swimming in, blindly hoping that he would reach his island again.
Although he was a relatively accomplished swimmer, there was only so far and so long he could stay afloat before exhaustion overtook him. His muscles spasmed with fatigue as he resignedly stopped trying to desperately paddle toward anywhere. He floated on his back to conserve energy, wearily fearing that the ocean would pull and claim him. That, or the many sharks that roamed the ocean would tear into him first.
~~~~~~~~
From his vantage point in the crow's nest, Shellington's sharp eyes locked onto the small speck drifting towards the Octopod as she skimmed through the Caribbean Sea. At first he thought it was simply debris in the water, but when peering through his spyglass, his stomach did a sickened turn as he realized it was a body. To his surprise, the person appeared to still be alive and was beginning to kick and feebly stir up the waters.
Shellington didn't waste a moment more, clambering down the rope ladder and narrowly avoiding getting himself tangled up in his haste. He did end up misstepping somewhere close to the bottom and ended up falling the rest of his way to the deck. He landed with an awkward clatter but quickly scrambled to his feet and darted toward the railing.
From her spot at the helm, Dashi eyed him incredulously as the Scotsman tripped over himself as he stripped off as much gear and clothing he could before wordlessly diving over the side of the Octopod.
Beside her, Kwazii appeared equally as flabbergasted as he confusedly called out, "Um... man overboard?"
~~~~~~~~
At the sight of another ship, Tunip tried to convince his limbs to move and get him as far away as possible from the floating vessel. Despite the boost of fear he felt as he heard something or someone else splashing into the sea behind him, he wasn't very successful in moving. With how exhausted he was, he could feel his body giving out and dipping below the waves.
However, just as he was contented to sink into the depths below, lean arms wrapped around his torso and pulled him to the surface. The next few moments were a blur of action and terror for the young boy. Although he struggled to escape from the stranger's hold, he could not slip away.
The soggy pair were pulled out of the ocean with a rope cast from the side of the ship and the one who met them once they were on deck shouted with a choked exclamation that quickly changed in tone, "Matey, what was— is that?!"
Tunip gave up trying to run away and simple sat there in a befuddled heap, still in the hold of his rescuer. Once convinced Tunip wouldn't try to flee, Shellington let go and finally got a good look at the boy he had saved. He supplied, rather unhelpfully, "That's a child."
"It's—" Whatever the first mate was about to remark was soundly cut off.
"Kwazii!" reprimanded Dashi sharply as she hurried over to the commotion. She held out towels for Shellington and the boy. "What have I been trying to teach you?"
"'If I can't say anything nice, then I shouldn't be saying it at all,'" droned Kwazii. He looked at the sea soaked child then at Dashi's challenging stare and dutifully dropped whatever comment he had and announced instead, "I'mma go and get the Cap'n."
Tunip remained frozen in his spot, taking in the only other people he had ever interacted with. Their words made little sense like the ones before but at least they weren't pulling him this way and that with a bruising grip. The tall one who had hauled him from the sea had had a secure grip but not unkind. The young boy squirmed under the way he was being looked at currently with unbridled curiosity, but not the same kind of curiosity that the others had as though they wished to tear him to pieces.
Despite the earnest smile on the tall one's face, he pulled back mistrustfully when the man went to guide him elsewhere and held his towel up like a mini shield. Instead of forcing Tunip to go where he pleased, the man patiently uttered something and motioned again, mimicking the action of putting on clothing. Shellington offered his hand for the boy to take. Tunip hesitantly placed his hand in the older man's, following him belowdeck with his uneven stride.
Tunip was practically swallowed in the smallest pair of clothes found onboard but didn't seem horribly uncomfortable even if he had to tie back the sleeves and pants so he could move properly. Already, he was beginning to feel at ease among these people even if he could not fully understand what they said, their actions spoke volumes on their behalf.
When taken to the galley, Tunip shocked Shellington by running over to their stores, pulling out a large turnip, and taking a hearty bite from the unwashed vegetable. Shellington had been hoping to find something leftover food that Tweak had prepared (her dishes were the closest to edible) to feed the boy, but he figured that at least he seemed content with whatever.
Tunip was still contentedly munching on his root vegetable when two new someones stepped into his view. They both had white hair and intrigued expressions. The largest of the two addressed the young boy in a deep soft tone despite his intimidating physique. Tunip chattered in response.
"What language is that?" asked Barnacles, casting a questioning glance at Inkling and Shellington. Both learned men appeared to be at a loss.
"I'm not quite sure, Captain," said Shellington with an interested tilt to his head, appearing very eager to figure it out though.
"Well, regardless, we'll drop him off at our next stop," ruled the Captain. "A pirate ship is no place for such a young boy."
"Aye, Captain." When Shellington had first agreed, he was horribly unprepared by how fast he and Tunip would become friends.
Tunip's curiosity did cause him to shadow a lot of the crew but the majority of his time was spent acting as Shellington's shadow. The Scotsman seemed to enjoy babbling absentmindedly as he went about his tasks and having an attentive audience member. Tunip managed to catch on quick to understanding language under Shellington's lengthy, excitable tangents. In turn, Shellington became attuned to understanding Tunip quite well. The boy was eventually able to articulate that his name was Tunip, which seemed to highly amuse Shellington, given the boy's affinity for eating turnips raw.
However, the Scotsman's excitement as he spoke seemed to dim the closer they got to their destination. Tunip was confused why Shellington's smile would drop and he could hardly seem to maintain eye contact. Determined to remedy that, the young boy snuck to the galley because food always cheered him up. He wavered between offering a simple turnip or something more extravagant. He decided to try his hand at food preparation.
To Tunip's delight, Shellington lit up at the simple dish he had made and immediately went to proudly show the rest of the crew.
"It's very good," acquiesced the Captain. He was quick to remind the Scotsman of his duties, "But, we make landfall tomorrow. Shellington, don't forget Tunip is meant to disembark."
"Aye, aye, Captain" agreed Shellington dejectedly, shooting a guilty glance to Tunip. He had done his best to express that Tunip's stay onboard was supposed to be temporary, but he wasn't sure the little lad quite grasped that. He wasn't sure his heart quite grasped that fact either.
"Shelly-do, what do?" asked Tunip as he stuck close to the Scotsman in the unfamiliar hustle and bustle of the city. They were approaching a large building. Tunip couldn't read the words above the imposing archway, but he could hear the squealing shouts and chatter of children coming from within.
Tunip frowned as he noticed moisture gathering in Shellington's eyes as he explained Tunip was supposed to stay here and not go with him. After a hug that was much too brief, the lanky pirate turned on his heel and rushed away, leaving a very hurt and confused boy behind.
However, Tunip didn't remain lost and confused for long as a familiar ginger-headed man peeked from behind the corner with a Cheshire-like smile and a beckoning hand.
"Kwazii, you didn't," gaped Shellington, staring wide-eyed down at the young boy he had grown to love like a son and just parted from on the doorstep of the orphanage. Despite his disbelief, he didn't hesitate to fall to his knees and wrap the young boy up in a tight hug.
"I did," grinned Kwazii unashamedly, watching with a soft eye on the scene. "I think we all know it just wouldn't be the same without the little tyke onboard."
At the sight of his Captain stomping towards them, the first mate's confidence wilted a little. It wasn't often he explicitly disobeyed direct orders from his Captain.
Tunip, sensing the mounting tension, wriggled free from Shellington's embrace and stepped forward, chirruping, "Tunip fam-ily." He stretched out his arms and held them up as if to encompass the Octopod and her entire crew.
Captain's annoyance at being disobeyed flagged considerably as he stared into the wide earnest eyes of Tunip. It was not as though he could refuse such a simple, striking statement. If Shellington could find a place for the odd little boy in his heart, then Barnacles could find a place for Tunip on the Octopod.
Chapter 8: A Sailing I Will Go
Notes:
CW: abuse and descriptions of blood and injury
Chapter Text
If someone needed a doctor to deal in discretion, Peso's boss was open for negotiation. Dr. Cortés accepted all sorts of clients, willing to keep quiet provided that the clients were desperate enough to pay an exorbitant amount for his silent services. Yet, because they served mostly lowlifes, their high prices still remained cheaper than any of the more professional medical facilities in the area. Something about serving the people from less than honest walks of life had caused his business standard to drop considerably. Peso couldn't help but always cringe inwardly at supplying subpar healthcare for a sky high cost.
Still, Peso kept at this line of work because what else was there for him? He had a bright mind and a tender heart but not enough money or connections of his own. The medical field called to him and he was willing to put forth the effort, uncaring of his patients' statuses in life, so long as those under his care left in a better state than when they came in. He considered himself fortunate enough to have even found a doctor who was willing to take his young self under his tutelage.
"Sorry, sorry," apologized the young, dark-haired Chilean as he scrambled to pick up the tray of surgical utensils that had accidentally slipped from his grasp, ducking a harsh slap to the back of his head.
Dr. Cortés glowered at him, muttering angrily under his breath, but thankfully made no more movements to harm his apprentice. He may have been in the business of healing, but Peso knew better than anyone that his hands could bring just as much pain.
If he were braver, Peso supposed he would strike out on his own and set up his own medical practice where he could help people on his terms with a much higher standard of care. But he didn't have that kind of money, and his mind treacherously whispered that he was far too young, inexperienced, and unassertive to make anything of himself.
He glanced over the appointment roster for the day, knowing that the sparse listings were deceptive and the clinic could easily fill with multiple walk-ins despite their limited staff. Dr. Cortés never turned down the opportunity to make money.
The front door to the clinic burst open, and Peso had to work to keep the tray in his hands from falling from his hold again. A band of haggard, roughed up sailors that he immediately recognized to be pirates filed into the tight reception area. The young black-haired man gulped as he hurried by, nervously explaining, "W-we will be with you shortly, por favor."
Before he could retreat to one of the back rooms, a cutlass sliced the air before him and lodged into the wall. He let out a small shriek, stopping dead in his tracks. This is what he had feared. The dangerous, desperate types that the doctor liked to cater to often had short fuses, never liking to hear "no" or "wait."
The largest man of the group—the Captain, Peso assumed—loomed over him. Flecks of blood stood out stark against his snow white hair and his eyes were narrowed into dangerous slits, seemingly pinning Peso in place. He ordered in an urgent, harsh tone, "Get your boss. We won't wait."
In his moment of fearful hesitation, Peso got a better look at the raggedy company the Captain commanded. They were a small bunch and definitely strangers to the shores of Chile who had obviously run into some sort of scuffle. Someone wrapped in a cloak shadowed the group, standing near the entrance. A lanky fellow and a ginger-haired man who was alarmingly covered in a large amount of blood leaned heavily against each other. Peso wasn't sure whether it was his or someone else's but that was enough to remind him that regardless of who they were or how rough of character, this was a medical emergency and he was inclined to help. With wobbly knees, he scurried to the back to inform the doctor who was delighted at the prospect of charging a ridiculous amount from these desperate buccaneers.
"I deal in discretion, Captain. No need to worry," assured Dr. Cortés in a wheedling voice as he pocketed the fair sum that Barnacles had hefted over.
As the doctor led the pirates to an ill-lit but more secure examination room, he snapped to his apprentice, "Get my instruments. Vamos!"
Peso, though sometimes anxious and high-strung, snapped to it with efficiency as he gathered everything the doctor required. He quietly made his rounds to each patient, gathering information on what injuries were most urgent and what could wait. He expected the pirates to be like any other roughened characters that came through the clinic's doors but was surprised to find them refreshingly different.
The first marked difference became apparent when he tried tending to the Captain first, but the large man simply waved him off with a hard glare, telling him to help his crew first. Peso could tell from the Captain's labored breathing that he must be in pain somewhere and reluctantly obeyed but not before casting a final worried glance at the man and his selfless act. How strange. Usually the leaders of any group demanded they be seen first and receive the best care. A nervous sweat broke out on the young Chilean's face as he tended to the others, feeling the Captain's observant gaze locked onto him.
Dr. Cortés demanded that he aid the Captain first, despite his wishes, so while the doctor was preoccupied with that, Peso moved to the most urgent case, the blood-soaked, one-eyed pirate. Regardless of whose blood it was, Peso expected this pirate to be a vengeful, dangerous man. But when he met the pirate's pain-clouded eye, he was surprised to see a young man who couldn't be that much older than himself.
This was no violent person who attempted to crack a smile, despite his many injuries. "'Ello there. You seem like you know how to patch me up."
Peso ran through his normal spiel, partly for his nerves and partly to get his thoughts in some sort of order. "I'm Peso and I'm a medic. I help anyone who is hurt or sick."
"Definitely hurt," confirmed the pirate wryly in his thick accent.
As Peso worked to clean around the wounds to better observe them, he was taken aback to find that beyond being friendly, the pirate, Kwazii, was quite a chatterbox. His rambling offered the medic embellished insight into how Kwazii managed to accumulate such injuries. Apparently, a fierce fight had broken out between rival pirate crews when Kwazii's crew sailed through their territory. He even explained how his friends, Shellington and Tweak, had gotten roughed up during the skirmish.
Shellington obtained some minor abrasions, but his most significant wound was his left leg. The poor guy had been stabbed in his calf with a dagger as a last dying act of revenge of his opponent. To add insult to injury, a barrel had been knocked loose and smashed into that same leg not long after.
Tweak, who had removed the hood of her cloak, revealed impressive swelling on the side of her face that was sure to leave a nasty bruise in a few days. She commented that the other guy looked a whole lot worse and Peso gulped, suddenly understanding why this maiden fell into the company of pirates. She certainly was as spirited as the rest. Peso had to admire her bravery.
Kwazii bragged that it took nearly ten men to hold him down and Peso almost believed him. That is, before he noticed Tweak shaking her head and Shellington holding up three fingers. Nevertheless, even taking on three men and surviving was not an easy feat. Kwazii's injuries were a testament to that.
Once done cleaning around the wounds, Peso got a better view of the deep lacerations marking the pirate's body. Some were still oozing blood. The young medic pressed the antiseptic-soaked rag against a deep laceration that ran across Kwazii's shoulder. He usually found it best to simply go all in without warning, because although many men tried to talk big game, most still flinched and wriggled when he pulled out the antiseptic. Thus, he didn't give the pirate a chance to pull away.
"Yeow, matey!" hissed Kwazii, jolting a good distance into the air.
"Sorry, sorry," apologized Peso profusely, ducking away should any limbs come flailing angrily in his direction. He could feel the doctor's and the Captain's cold stares into his back.
His hands had a noticeable tremble to them as he picked up his suture material and began to mend the deep cut. If Kwazii noticed the way his hands shook, he didn't comment on it and merely braced himself for when the needle pierced his skin, unable to disguise a pained wince.
Peso was so focused on watching his patient for any signs of retribution that he failed to notice the senior doctor's fist angrily flying at the back of his head. The blow landed hard and Peso crouched low, bracing himself as Dr. Cortés cursed him out in Spanish.
Though desperate clients who could pay were his favored clients, that didn't mean the doctor wasn't very much aware of the risks involved with treating volatile patients. He was vicious in enforcing client appeasement of the highest order because one wrathful client very well could snap and kill them all. The doctor wouldn't have bothered to close the wound at all, but Peso wasn't one to skimp on healthcare.
Despite expectantly bracing, no more blows rained down on Peso and instead, the room filled with the sounds of the pirates shouting. They were defending him? That was the last thing he expected them to do.
Before Peso could barely blink, he found himself being hauled to his feet and ushered out the doors of his clinic. The familiar houses and streets of his home whizzed past. He was vaguely aware of more shouting and commotion cropping up as the pirate crew made a break for the harbor, considering momentarily that his angry boss had probably informed the law of their presence. Well, there went his job.
~~~~~~~~
Usually, Captain Barnacles liked to make his escapes with a little more finesse and without dragging some poor bystander along, but with the law enforcers on their tails, that couldn't be helped. So far, this visit to Chile had been a waste.
In the harbor, Dashi already had the Octopod ready to go at a moment's notice. It had been a bloody fight getting into harbor and Barnacles suspected that it would be quite the battle trying to escape the harbor again with the territorial gangs patrolling the shores. They piled onto the ship, ready to fight foes on their bow and aft.
Even in the chaos erupting on all sides, the pirate Captain took note of how Peso's desire to help overruled any fear that tried to force him to stay hidden. He tended to any crew member that was in need of medical attention, regardless of the fights breaking out across the deck. And that, gave him hope that perhaps this ruinous destination had held a treasure for them after all and that the timid medic he'd accidentally dragged with them was of more value than he first thought.
"You are now the senior doctor of the Octopod," announced Captain Barnacles once they were safely out to sea, observing with a neutral expression at how big Peso's eyes got.
"Senior doctor!?" exclaimed Peso, confused as to whether his voice carried something more akin to excitement or doubt. "But I haven't even finished my training to become a regular doctor!"
"Eh, you know more about patching us up than all of us combined," encouraged Kwazii.
Barnacles nodded, "Besides, whatever you don't know, I'm sure you'll learn in time. From what I just saw, I trust your instincts." However, gracious as always, he left room for the choice to be Peso's alone. "That is, the position is yours if you want it. Or, you may return."
Peso bowed his head, a small smile on his face, but feeling rather self-conscious. He did not know or care very much about this strange pirate crew yet, only that they were in desperate need of his skillset. Despite his anxiety nagging at him, he replied with determination written across his face, "Then I hope I do not disappoint, Captain."
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