Patrick stomped her foot. “I’m wanting to climb the mast.”
The huge, dark-skinned pirate folded his arms, causing the tattoo of a scantily clad wench to dance with the flexing of his bicep. “Cap’n says no.”
“Captain’s not here, so I’m commanding.”
A flash of humor flickered in the man’s eyes, but he neither responded nor budged from where he stood blocking the rigging.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Now.”
“No.”
“I’m the captain’s son, so I’m commanding! And I’m wanting to climb the mast.”
He snorted. “This be not a monarchy; we vote for captain. And none here will vote for a tiny scamp whose head reaches no higher than my knee. You came aboard only three days past and you’ve spent half that time retching in your cabin. You command no one here; yourself included.”
Patrick growled and threw her whole body against his leg. He stayed as firm as a mountain, his hands encircling her upper arms to steady her when she would have flown backward. Patrick shook off his hold and drew her tiny pistol. “Move or I’ll be shooting ya.”
“Go ahead. Shoot me.”
Doubts stirred within Patrick. She glanced between her child-sized weapon and the man’s challenging grin. The pistol began to shake. “I’ll be shooting ya,” she repeated, her voice little more than a whisper.
He nodded. “Yes.”
Patrick hesitated. She’d done enough target practice to know her pistol, though small, was fully functional, but she’d only ever shot leaves, and tree trunks, and the like. Once, she’d shot her mother’s shoe – when that esteemed woman wasn’t wearing it, of course. This was different; Liam was a person. She lowered her pistol and glared. “I’m wanting to climb the mast.”
“No.”
Spinning on her heel, Patrick stomped all the way to the hatch before she remembered her mother’s lessons in manners. She returned to Liam and bit out the word please.
His brow furrowed. “You think I’ll let you climb the mast against the cap’n’s orders because you said please?”
Patrick instantly regretted her momentary humility. She pulled her pistol and shot him in the leg. Liam howled even as he dropped into a crouch to inspect the tiny hole in his trousers. “You shot me!” The anger in his gaze warned Patrick to escape while she could.
Dropping her pistol, she jumped up onto a nearby crate, using it as a steppingstone to hop onto his bent back and swing herself into the shroud before he could stop her.
“He bloody well shot me,” Liam growled. Patrick stopped climbing some feet beyond his reach and watched the scene on the deck below her.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t tell him to shoot you,” another of the pirates pointed out.
“But… but he actually shot me.”
“Who was shooting ya?”
Patrick cringed at the sound of her father’s voice, instinctively scurrying upward. The sound of blood rushing in her ears blocked out all other activity and she didn’t stop her ascent until she’d reached the crow’s nest. Unfortunately, once there, she realized her arms and legs were too short to allow her to safely climb inside. She wrapped her arms around the ropes of the shroud and glanced down.
Her father was just then picking up her discarded pistol and she watched him slowly turn it over in his hands, his eyes calmly rising to meet her own. He headed for the shroud and began to climb.
There was nothing Patrick could do but wait while the blood turned cold in her veins. In a matter of minutes, her father had plucked her from the relative safety of the shroud and set her in the crow’s nest, climbing in after her. Patrick’s eyes blurred as she stared at his large, booted feet.
“Never was I seeing a boy so young fly up the rigging as ya were doing, Pat. Ya were making me proud to be yer da.”
Patrick’s eyes shot upward to her father’s wide grin. “I was shooting a man.”
“Liam?” Her father laughed. “He’s been challenging every man on this crew to be shooting him these two years past. Perhaps he’ll be thinking twice ere doing so in future. Besides, the ball from yer gun is too small to be giving him much pain.”
“Yer not angry?”
Her father frowned. “Would yer ma have been angry?” he asked, heaving a sigh before Patrick could even nod. “Yes, she would’ve been angrier than the devil in winter. I’m supposing I’ll have to be taking over teaching ya now that she’s gone.”
Patrick watched her father glance around helplessly and scratch his head as though deciding what to do next. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are ya understanding that shooting yer crewmates is wrong?” His expression lit up at Patrick’s quick nod. “Well then, that’s that. Now, ya’re needing a reward for reaching the crow’s nest so quickly on yer first go. I’ll be holding ya up to take a piss on those below. How’s that for a reward?”
The excitement left his eyes when she shook her head no. It was obvious from his reaction he’d thought she’d jump at the offer to douse an unsuspecting sailor with her urine.
“Are ya sure?”
Patrick shook her head again. Even if she hadn’t been trying to hide the truth of her sex, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to do that. Her father shrugged.
“Well, no use in wasting a morning’s ration of rum.”
Patrick gripped the edge of the crow’s nest with both hands and peered over the edge. She couldn’t see the ones unlucky enough to be in range of their captain’s aim, but could make out several others in the bow who were doubled over, laughing at their crewmates’s shouts of outrage.
None, however, laughed louder than her father.
The End
***Little Patrick is all grown up – and surprisingly civilized considering her childhood among pirates – when she takes her first command in Hard to Starboard.***
