The Noble Pirates Read Free

radio someone, anyone.
    “Get back below!” he yelled at me as I rushed to the metal railing and puked up a combination of hard alcohol, Bahama Mama, and chicken fingers. I wiped my mouth and looked at him, shaking my head. The rain felt good, and I wasn’t just about to go back down there. He yelled a series of incoherent curses at me, saying something about the compass not working.
    As the cabin door began to push open – probably by the passengers who didn’t want to sit amongst the heat, sweat, and vomit – Bryan kicked it shut forcefully, leaning against it and padlocking it with one swift movement. “No one else is getting out of there until this storm is over,” he yelled angrily, flashing a look at me.
    I lay down on the slippery deck, gripping the railing with one hand. I just wanted it to stop. I would do anything for this feeling to go away. Anything. I tried to roll on my back, but my backpack, which I had so cleverly strapped on over my life jacket, prevented me from doing so. I didn’t have the energy to tear it off, so I just lolled on my side, my hair matted to my face, looking up into the most frightening sky I’d ever seen. The clouds reached down to the sea like ghostly hands, illuminated from behind by an unearthly glow.
    Suddenly the boat lurched violently. I felt my skull crack against the fiberglass hull, my body thrown like a ragdoll into the air. I’m not sure if I screamed. I’m pretty sure I didn’t, considering I couldn’t even get up the energy to flail or grab for something. I tasted salt water, felt it burn my eyes. It filled my ears and nose, pulled at my limbs.  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tell which way the surface was. The life jacket and backpack pulled in opposite directions, one dragging me down, the other trying to break the waves, both riding up around my neck. I shook my head in distress, and the backpack covered my face. Suddenly, death seemed like a welcome reprieve to the sea sickness, to the battering of the sea. My head hit something hard again, and the next thing I saw was my daughter Sophie’s face when she was four or five months old, smiling her toothless smile, her chubby hands reaching for me...
    Take good care of her, Jake. I love you both.
    Chapter Three
      My first conscious thought was: I hate boats.
      My head pounded, just at the crown. Illogically, I wondered if there was a hole in my skull. From the neck down, I was submerged in cool water, and waves tugged at my body rhythmically. Sunlight lit the inside of my eyelids to a bright, veined pink and warmed my face, which was pressed against the smooth nylon of my life jacket.
    Was I dead? I tried opening my eyes, but it felt as though they were welded shut. I wanted to rub them, but wasn’t even sure I knew how to move my hands. Hell, for all I knew, I didn’t have hands anymore. I thought idly about sharks as I bobbed about, wondering if anyone would find me, and if not, how long it would take to die. Slowly, I was able to crack open my eyes. From between the strands of hair that wrapped across my face and stuck to my parched lips, I could see a blurry blue sky with scattered clouds above, and nothing but sea stretching before me. Water sloshed around in my ears, and I could barely hear anything over the roar in my head.
    Was my death to be prolonged? Would I die slowly at sea, with various sea creatures nibbling at me like an open buffet? I tried to moan, but no sound came out of my mouth. What had happened to Sky and Tanya? To everyone else on the catamaran? Were they okay?
    Then I heard it. Gurgling water, and a distinct creaking. I saw the shadow it cast on the waves before I saw the dark hull, painted with a stripe of black. The ship was approaching, and while I wanted to call out for help, I could do nothing but wince at the pain I felt as I tried to move. I heard voices, and knew that I’d been found. Funny, how one’s brain works when water-logged and beaten to a pulp: I remember