Emerald Seas

There was a time when young Cutler Beckett wanted nothing more than to see the world and travel the seas. He dreamed of treasure, of maps unrolled across salt-stained tables, of sails snapping in foreign winds, of commanding something, anything, that belonged to no one but himself. A grand ship of his own, a title, a name remembered, that was his vision. Not freedom from work, but freedom earned through it. Not escape from duty, but control over it.

And yet, here he was, stuck to a rather uncomfortable wooden chair and sleepless at his desk in the rainy, cold, London where his quill scribbled onto some documents. Still chasing the future in ink and exhaustion.

He didn't even notice that his thoughts had drifted again until the ink blotched across the page. A thick black stain spread across the lines he'd just written. He exhaled sharply, annoyed, and threw the parchment away. Another page wasted.

It was already getting quite dark outside and he noticed the clock showed him it was ten minutes past midnight. Once again his workday was far too long and he felt his eyes were heavy and his fingers started to feel numb from all the writing.

But it was all worth it since he got assigned to a tour at one of the East India Trading Company's offices on one of the islands along the Spanish coast, Gibraltar.

This would be the journey of a lifetime and his first real business trip which made him feel proud of all the hard work he accomplished these past months. He had started out not long ago as a simple clerk, an office worker at the London East India Trading Company's headquarters, a simple job yes, but it was his biggest ambition to work his way up.

Cutler had arrived in London merely months ago. Leaving his home, his family and history behind. He had not simply left his birth town Somersetshire, he had fled it.

The Beckett house had seemed destined for greatness for outsiders, but it was a cold home. No love, no warmth. His father, Jonathan Beckett Sr., was a merchant but a cruel, rigid man who saw affection as weakness and discipline as legacy. He favored Cutler's older brothers, Jonathan Jr. and Bartholomew, who were dull but obedient, content to inherit the family name without question. Cutler, too clever for his own good, had always been different. He devoured books in Greek and Latin, charted trade routes for fun, questioned authority, and saw beyond the horizon his father told him to obey.

Only his mother and his older sister Jane, had ever shown him true affection. His mother's touch was gentle, her voice one of the few safe harbors in that house. And Jane, soft and endlessly kind, too kind for this cruel world, understood him in ways no one else did. It was from them he learned what tenderness looked like, what it meant to be seen. But they were not fierce women, not protectors, only quiet ones, and their love, though real, could not shield him the way a child deserved. They stood powerless under the shadow of his father, unable to stop the quiet cruelties that chipped away at him, year after year.

There had been arguments with his father, always, small at first when he was younger, then explosive as Cutler grew older. And now at the age of twenty-three, it had been enough.

In the heath of their fight his father had called him weak for dreaming, Cutler had called him a tyrant. The last words they exchanged were shouted across a drawing room like cannon fire in storm. He left that night without taking anything but what fit in a satchel. His father had cut him off entirely. No inheritance, no money, no prospects and no turning back. If the Beckett name meant anything now, he would redefine it himself. Cutler would not return crawling. He would rise through merit, and he would make the world remember him.

The week passed slowly as it always does when something grand and exciting is waiting for you. But the day finally arrived and Cutler made his way to the docks of London. It was once again a rainy and cloudy day and the streets were busy, filled with people on their way to wherever they were going.

From a distance he saw the white sails and the blue flags of the East India ships float and dance with the wind, the magnificent sea crafts being prepared for the journey. It was a cargo ship and carried spices. Once Cutler entered the docks he noticed the familiar smell of the fine spices in combination with the strong sea salt smell that made him feel at home so much.

As he walked up to the ship there was a harbormaster scribbling on a piece of parchment. He walked up to him and tried to make him notice his presence. But the man made no effort in noticing and Cutler coughed once to make him look down on him. It worked as the man dropped his paper down, slightly annoyed, and looked him into the eyes.

'What is it you're looking for, young man?' the harbor master looked down at Cutler, his eyes peeking over the edge of his half-moon formed glasses.

'Good day Sir, my name is Cutler Beckett, one of the office workers assigned to be part of the trip to Gibraltar' Cutler spoke brightly.

The man looked at him with a frowned face and pushed the small glasses he wore higher up his crooked nose.

'Aren't you a little young to sail with the Company, young man?' the harbormaster asked, his tone edged with impatience.

Cutler resisted the urge to sigh. He had grown used to this, mistaken for younger than he was simply because he hadn't inherited the tall stature most boys his age seemed to boast. But it was simply his height that often made people overlook the sharpness behind his eyes, his slight muscular build and strong jaw.

'I'm sure my name should be on the list, Sir' Cutler tried to sound polite while he waited in silence for a few moments as the man's finger slid down the pages, turned over a few, and finally at the very bottom of the last page stopped.

'Ah, there it is. Now move along!' the man pushed Cutler in the direction of the gangplank that led him to enter the ship without paying any attention to him once he climbed aboard.

Cutler didn't feel the need to thank the man and noticed how he moved along to the next person awaiting his entrance. He heard the harbor master's voice turn from the cranky old man tone into that of a flatterer suddenly, seemingly now helping a man whom seemed to be an high ranked officer. But Cutler didn't pay any attention to it any further as he was already forgetting about it when he beheld the most beautiful and astonishing ship he had ever set foot on. The Lindesfarne.

He was determined to have one at least as magnificent as this one, one day.

Days at sea passed quickly, and Cutler felt at home on the ship, even though the work at the office was far from what it was here on the high seas. He mostly got the duty of scrubbing the deck and repair broken parts when needed.

Every now and then one of the younger men he worked with at the office in London made haste to one of the bucket's on board or to the rail of the ship, to release the already poor meals they got served three times a day.

They were no men for the sea or just had never sailed in their young lives. Cutler didn't suffer from the restless stomach the young men were complaining about all the time. No, he had real sea legs and enjoyed his time on the ship apart from the hard manual labor.

The burning sun, on the other hand, was what made it killing. But Cutler didn't dare and want to complain what so ever and was determined to complete this journey.

There were a few occasions when one of the Luitenants would pass him a compliment on his knowledge of the ship in one of the conversations he had with his offices colleagues. He felt proud to receive it and it only made him more driven.

Cutler was a smart man, and in any conversation with him that was noticeable. Also, he himself knew this very well and sometimes used it to his advantage.

One night the ocean felt rough and restless. There were thunderstorms high in the clouds like the ancient gods were fighting, the waves were as tall as buildings, reaching for the sails that looked like they could be ripped off and fly away any moment.

Sailors up deck were busy securing every rope and mast while making their way through the waves that crashed upon the deck with the loudest bang one could imagine water to sound like.

Cutler was inside assisting the sailors, along with the other young men of the office, anywhere they could. The ship made unexpected movements and tossed a lad every once in a while to the other side of the corridor on the upper deck. Cutler held himself steady against the sudden movements of the waves and heard the captain of the ship shout to the sailors and lieutenants on deck.

Suddenly Cutler heard something, and he believed his ears betrayed him.

Did the Captain say anything about another ship in sight with colours that might mean trouble?

He decided to make way to the deck. Not thinking about whether this was against the orders of the Captain he figured the men were too busy with the situation anyway.

Cutler opened the door to the main deck and made way towards the group of Lieutenants and the Captain who were in a heated discussion. Cutler winded his ears as if he could follow the conversation with all the noise the thunder and the heavy rain caused. He heard the Captain now scream to get above all the sounds of nature, Cutler stiffened and stopped walking nearly reaching the helm of the ship. He didn't move an inch and tried to comprehend what he heard him scream.

Did he say pirates?

As he tried to reach for the balustrade of the deck, trying to make himself stand straight again, he looked to the side of the ship where suddenly the other ship was noticeable through the thick fog. He searched for the flag to see what kind of ship it was, as his eyes managed to find it he froze again.

The Captain was right, there it was, a big black flag with a skeleton, holes in it everywhere.

This was the first time Cutler ever laid eyes on a pirate ship and he couldn't believe this was happening.

All of a sudden out of nowhere he heard the loudest bang he had ever heard. The wood of the ship was cracking and getting destroyed by an object so heavy. He heard the center mast of the ship crack and soon more cannonballs followed.

Cutler had to dive down onto the deck and placed his hands on the back of his head, covering it so the pieces of wood wouldn't fall on top of it. He soon stood straight from the ground to make his way to the Captain to see if there was anything he could do, but it all went so fast. He looked at the place where the Captain and Lieutenants were discussing a few moments ago and they were gone.

He saw some men bleeding and crawling on the ground. He tried to help out but for most of them, it was too late.

Then after what seemed forever the cannonballs of both ships stopped. Cutler had managed to shelter himself along with some men still alive.

Where the sailors, commanders and officers had done everything they could to shoot this damn pirate ship to the bottom of the ocean, now it was quiet.

Too quiet.

Even the sea had stopped raging and the silence made Cutler's ears creak. There was a high tone beep in his ears that would probably be there for least some days. But that was least of his worries.

The few men left alive were gathering around and out of nowhere, there was a loud bang. From what they could see there was a big shadow crossing from the pirate ship to theirs and all men waited in silence, knowing they were outnumbered by this sudden surprise attack.

It wasn't clear anymore who was from which rank since they all looked filthy and bloody from the battle. Hats, wigs were lost and coats were destroyed.

A big shadow formed into a man wearing a large hat with a dark purple feather that made him look even taller. Behind him what must have been the rest of his crew followed. Looking curiously to the men being surrounded, without sharing any words.

'Ah what a beautiful day for another trading ship to cross paths with..' the man with the big hat spoke, breaking the long silence.

The Captain of the Lindesfarne stepped forward, limping slightly, and looked the tall stranger square in the eyes.

'Who are you? Make yourself known!' he barked.

The man smiled, slow, theatrical.

'Oh, how terribly rude of me,' he said, sweeping into a mocking half-bow. 'Captain Christophe-Julien de Rapièr, at your most unwilling service.' He straightened, eyes gleaming. 'And you, I'm afraid.. are my guests of honor. Prisoners, really, but I do so hate the word prisoners. It sounds so uncivilized.'

Suddenly, to everyone's utter surprise of horror, the pirate Captain waved his hand and one of his men grabbed the Captain and slit his throat.

Some of the Company men stepped forward to try and stop him, but the other pirates lifted their weapons.

'For anyone of you making any move will await the same faith. You'll rot at Davy Jones' Locker!' the pirate Captain yelled, which made all the men keep their tongue.

After what felt like an eternity some of the pirates returned on deck from inspecting the whole ship. They made their way with everything valuable and expensive on the ship.

Cutler stood there in silence and couldn't believe what was happening. He wanted to do something so badly but knew that would cost his head.

'Now, I only want the youngsters. They make the best slaves' the Captain spoke while inspecting the crew of the Company's ship. The pirate crew did what was commanded and killed every lieutenant and older sailors still left. Cutler tried to reach for a sword from one of the lieutenants but was busted and caught by his arm.

Before they knew it they were standing on the large dark pirate ship that stank like rotten food and long out of date rum. Nothing like the fine smell of spices aboard the East India Company ships.

'What are you going to do with us?' one of the young men spoke bravely but looked frightened for his life.

'You're part of the goods that will make us rich' one of the pirates laughed, he looked at the lad and twitched his left eye, as if to scare him.

'You're planning to sell us as slaves?' Cutler stepped forward, his voice even, calculated. The pirate captain turned, looking down at him with an amused smirk, he was easily a head taller.

'Smart boy,' was all the Captain muttered.

Cutler didn't flinch. 'And you're under the impression this will end well for you?' he asked, eyes cold and clear. 'We will be found. And when we are, you'll be strung up by your neck with far less ceremony than you seem to prefer.'

A few of the pirates chuckled darkly, but Cutler's gaze didn't waver. He knew he was bluffing, but it was the only way.

'Shut it! And if anyone of you is as bold to cross me.. or if you cross me again like that. There will be consequences!' the pirate Captain yelled. He waved one of his orders again and the pirates took them to the brig.

The young men guided by three pirates got below deck where it was dark and wet. Cutler tried to look around in the dark to study the way out of here, just in case they would escape. He looked down at his black boots that were soaking wet from the floor and they made their way through the few inches of water here below.

There were two large cells that could contain at least six men each. The four men including Cutler were put in separated cells, two of the men in one and two in the other. He had no idea why but he figgered that the pirates guiding them weren't smart enough to have good a reason for it.

To Cutler's surprise, he noticed voices whispering when he walked into his cell and in the back, he saw a group of three people. One cloaked and the other two hooded in the shadow of the brig hidden so he couldn't see their faces, sitting on the ground, all looking over their shoulders, curious to whom the new prisoners would be.

'Enjoy your stay!' one of the pirates yelled and closed the door shut behind the men with a loud noise.

There was an awfully long silence.

Cutler and George, one of the other young men left he was paired with, watched their cellmates still staring. They decided to await for the three people making their approach, as they couldn't tell if they were trustworthy people or not. They didn't want any more trouble.

'Are you from the East India Trading Company?' Suddenly one of the men in the group of the three shadowed people rose from the ground.

'Yes we are.. who.. are you, and how did you know?' George asked questioning.

'I recognize your attire' the man spoke.

Cutler forgot they still wore their uniforms.

The man emerging from the shadows now standing in front of them wore a white wig, tricorn hat and a naval uniform which made him trustworthy, he was obviously a man of rank. He looked about ten years older than Cutler and George.

'I'm Lieutenant Greyer. I'm sorry to see you young men have fallen prey to those rogue scum as well..' the man smiled, but there was no humor behind it.

'Yes, unfortunately so, Sir.' George muttered.

'Maybe we can work together on getting the hell out of here, we can use some men force..' Lieutenant Greyer continued.

Cutler and George nodded simply but politely. Probably both impressed a man of such rank sought their help.

The other two figures stood up as well after seeing they were allies, not foes, and made their way to the men.

One of them emerged from the shadows and removed their hat as well.

'We have to be cautious though, we can't just trust anyone Dominic.' The low voice of the second man spoke strictly. 'We need to make absolutely sure she doesn't get harmed' he continued, concern laced at the end of his sentence.

Cutler thought his ears betrayed him again and the annoying beep in his ears still, didn't help with hearing properly either.

Did he say 'she'?

Meaning the ship?

No, that made no sense.

'We can only accept all the help we get offered.. we have no choice' Lieutenant Greyer whispered toward the other man, wearing the same uniform.

They were clearly of high rank, the other man was probably the same age as Luitenant Greyer, men that made something of their lives, Cutler thought.

'You're right.. we're in the same situation, where are my manners. I'm Lieutenant Brown' the other Lieutenant spoke hesitating with a tone that almost sounded sarcastic, like he still didn't trust the situation but went along with it. His dark eyes tried to show friendliness.

The other figure stood quietly among the men, a little more into the back of the cell, like it was wary of the newcomers.

The Lieutenants on their turn looked protective of the figure as it stepped forward to make itself known as the hood dropped down.

From beneath the hood of the silk cloak emerged a young woman, and for a moment, the room seemed to still.

Her hair, long, rich, and the color of burnished copper, spilled in soft waves over one shoulder, catching the light like fire trapped in silk. Piercing emerald eyes met the world with careful poise, their gaze alert but unafraid, as if she had long since learned the cost of being underestimated. She must be near her twenties.

She wore a beige colored gown, finely made, its fabric whispering of wealth and refinement. Draped over her shoulders was a dark green cloak of silk, the deep shade making her pale skin appear almost luminous. Her cheeks carried a rosy blush, and her lips, full, expressive, curved with a knowing softness that suggested wit beneath grace.

Everything about her, from the noble bearing in her posture to the unspoken strength in her eyes, spoke of someone raised among privilege. And yet, there was no trace of arrogance, her lips, almost smiling, held a quiet ease as she was introduced to those beneath her station, as though kindness came more naturally to her than pride.

Cutler didn't believe his eyes and was forgetting about everything around him.

He felt a flush of heat climb up his neck by her beauty, one that was rarely seen, it was pure and captivating. And Cutler couldn't deny the fact he felt attracted to her instantly, but he soon realized probably most men would be by her mysterious and intriguing appearance.

A woman aboard this hideous and dangerous vessel, how did she end up here for she did not belong here.

'My name is Katherina Florence' her soft voice spoke, making her name known..