Sons of the Tide (mlm)

Chapter 2: Moving Below Deck

Caleb

The lantern beside the door had burnt out by the time the captain unlocked it and swung it open. He shut the door with his foot and locked it, then crouched in front of him once again. Caleb could smell the alcohol in his breath.

He could just barely make out the captains features in the dark. "Are you drunk?"

Joseph chuckled, his breath hot against Caleb's face. "I don't get drunk."

His speech wasn't the slightest bit slurred, which suggested that was the truth. "Can you back up? You reek of alcohol."

He chuckled again and lifted his hand to tip Caleb's chin up. His fingers were rough and calloused, not unlike his own hands. "Then I won't be able to see your pretty face."

Caleb raised his eyebrows. God, he was drunk. He was just good at speaking while intoxicated, apparently. "Why do you want to see my face?"

He hummed, not removing his hand. "I need to see your reactions to my questions."

"Then light the damn lantern." Caleb hated the smell of alcohol.

He stood slowly and struck a match, then lit the lantern. Light bloomed from the door, though without sun coming through the small windows the cabin was still very dim.

He took the lat teen off the wall and placed it a few feet from Caleb, then crouched again. "You gonna cooperate this time?"

"Why should I?"

He smiled, his dark eyes catching the light of the lateen. "I hold back less when 'm drunk."

"I thought you didn't get drunk." Caleb watched his face, though it didn't change at his comment.

He shrugged and sat with his legs crossed, leaning back on his palms. "You saw right through that, there's no point lying."

"Fair enough." Caleb adjusted himself so he was mirroring Joseph's position, only his hands had to stay in his lap thanks to the chains. "Why are you so committed to knowing why Hawke wants me?"

"Because he deserves to die."

Caleb agreed, but it didn't explain why he hated him so much. What had the captain of the Red Wave done to piss him off? "What did he do, steal your gold and your woman?"

He'd meant it as a joke to try and get a rise out of him, but it worked more effectively than he anticipated. Joseph gripped his neck and got into his face, sobering up almost instantly. "He raped and murdered my wife, so you'd better watch your fucking mouth."

Caleb clamped his mouth shut. The way his eyes looked in the dark was almost animal like, primal with rage. His grip on Caleb's neck was tight enough that he struggled to breathe, but not enough to fully strangle him. He knew what he was doing.

Joseph shoved him to the ground and stood, picking up his lantern as he did so. "You forget I'm a pirate, Caleb. We aren't known for our kindness towards prisoners."

He was starting to get that. He kept his mouth clamped shut, not daring to piss off the captain even more. He doubted it would end well for him, especially since he was drunk and less in control of himself.

Joseph left him alone in the room, the lantern blown out so he had no light. He didn't know or care where the captain slept that night, nor did he think about it. He just sat in the dark with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

*****

The next morning, Caleb woke to water being dumped over his head. He'd fallen asleep sometime in the night, lying uncomfortably on his side.

The water was refreshing and welcomed, however. It cooled his skin as he took a deep breathe and opened his eyes. The first mate, Cecelia he recalled, was standing over him with an empty wooden bucket. "Morning, princess."

He sat up and shook the water out of his hair. She put her hand on her hip and looked down her wide nose at him. "Captain wants you awake. No food or water until you tell us what we want to know."

"Good luck. I've been starved for the past few weeks on that island, I'm used to it."

She raised one eyebrow. "Then perhaps I'll take matters into my own hands."

The way she said it, he doubted she meant anything other than harm toward him. Maybe her captain had told her what Caleb said to piss him off the night before and she wanted to get even with physical harm.

She unhooked his chains from the floor and took him out onto the deck. The crew doing their tasks all watched him with narrow eyes, no doubt cautious of his presence. He spotted Joseph on the upper part of the deck, looking through a spy glass at the horizon. He was yanked down a set of wooden stairs before the captain noticed his presence. 

Cecelia took him into a cell, blocked off with iron bars in the back of the first level below deck. She attacked his chains to a hook on the low ceiling, tight enough that his arms were suspended above his head, and closed the door to the cell. 

"You're going to have to get your hands dirty if you want me to tell you anything." He glared at her. "You'd hate messing up your perfect nails, wouldn't you?"

She swung her hand in a back-handed slab to his cheek with such force his head flew to the side. "Not at all."

He huffed a laugh and looked at her again. "Oh, I bet you like being on top, don't you princess? With all that try-hard violence just so you can impress mister bigshot up on the deck."

She drew a knife from her belt and spun it in her hand. "Enough."

"Why? Afraid I've got you and your pathetic pining for the captain figured out?"

"I play for a different team." She pressed the tip of the knife against a scar already on his abdomen. "Though I do enjoy when men beg for mercy."

He whipped his head forward in an attempt to smash him face into hers, but she was quick to move to the side and press the blade against his throat. "Try that again. I fuckin' dare ya."

She was quicker than her captain, but she was riled up easily. He just smiled down at her. "Maybe I'll get out of these chains and kill you before I go up onto the deck and shoot your captain with your gun."

She pressed the knife in harder, enough to draw blood. "You're lucky I was ordered not to use my own methods."

When she backed off and exited the cell, and spat at her feet. "Run back to daddy."

She ignored him as she walked off. He huffed, wishing he'd been able to get her to do something. It would've given him some sort of chance to do anything to get out of the damned chains. 

As she disappeared onto the deck, he swallowed dryly. The water from his cold wake-up was already beginning to dry, and his tongue felt like sandpaper. He wouldn't get any food or water until he talked, but he wasn't going to. Not unless he saw it as a chance to get away. 

Still, he doubted his chances were very high. Cecelia and her captain ran a tight ship, by the looks of it, and even if he got off of it, where would he go? He was surrounded by nothing but ocean or miles and miles and even he couldn't survive a night in the frigid sea. His options were limited, and he hated it. 

He just hoped he got away before Hawke came looking for him.