PROLOGUE
The name’s Rackham. Cap’n Quinn Rackham. But I’m ‘ereafter
known as Cap’n t’ yer, capisce? Good, I don’t need no landlubbers gettin’ a
whiff of me name. I’ve got m’self into enough trouble t’ sink ol’ Willie’s
steamboat as it is without yer rattin’ on me an’ all. Better keep this little
conversation between us two, ‘mm?
Anyway, now that’s over with, I’ll offer me condolences now
if yer’d like. Y’see, I’ve spent me whole life at sea, an’ the air don’t do me
brain much good. Me memory’s a bit ‘azy now - what? No, I’m not just “getting’
old”, yer cheeky little riff-raff! I might be goin’ a bit grey ‘round the
edges, but it don’t make me any less of a pirate now - Neptune's tail no! Anyway, this
could take a while, best take a perch on the ol’ aft ‘ere – it’s alrigh’, won’t
break or nothin’! Nice boat, ain’t she? She’s me little beaut she is, buil’ ‘er
with me dear ol’ man back when I was just a wee sailor’s boy. Pretty decent,
eh? I call ‘er Sandra, Sandy fer short, after me mam. She’s six feet under now,
poor thin’, but she did run many a tight ship in ‘er time. Bit of an
inspiration really in our part of the waters, shame I turned out… well, like I
did. I was an only child, raised by me parents on our boat. Me dad loved ‘avin’
me around, in fact, we still go on our weekly fishin’ trips t’ this day. Me mam
though, she never was keen on me. Said I wasn’t up t’ the standard of the rest
of our crew. Always did get pissed over that – me own mam sayin’ I wasn’t good
enough fer ‘er ship? ‘ah! Well, got me own crew now ain’t I. Or, I did ‘ave…
I guess I better fill yer in on me lovelies before I go into
all that though, I tried tellin’ me dad but I think I made ‘im a bit muddled,
better not do the same t’ yer now! Right, well, me first in command, that’d be
Shawn. Bit of a simple one is our Shawnie, right lanky fella’ with ‘air lighter
than ‘ay an’ eyes bluer than the ocean we sail on. ‘e means well though, always
gets shit done. Well, when ‘e remembers t’ that is. Can’t blame the guy I
suppose, forced t’ grow up alone on some deserted island until I found ‘im. ‘e
was only fifteen, still a kid at the time an’ ‘ad no clue where the ‘ell ‘e
even was, let alone ‘ow ‘e got there. Said ‘is parents left ‘im there as a
little ‘un, taught ‘im ‘ow t’ start a fire an’ spear meat an’ left ‘im t’ get
on with it. I felt sorry fer the lad back then, so I took ‘im on me ship an’ on
me ship ‘e stayed, even though ‘e’s pushin’ ‘is mid-thirties now. ‘e was as
sprightly as a teenager, three sheets t’ the wind, without even ‘avin’ a God
damn drop of rum. I swear, that fella
could jump overboard an’ swim t’ the nearest island – an’ don’t think ‘e ain’t
tried.
I feel quite sorry fer
‘im really – ‘e might go ‘round the ship sayin’ ‘ow much ‘e cares about all of
us an’ ‘ow we’re ‘is family, but it’s nothin’ special. Not like real family. ‘e ain’t got no wife, no
kids, no memory of any other family aside from ‘is parents who’ve scarred ‘im
fer life. Well, ‘e does ‘ave that damn little mongrel of ‘is, Talty, the ship’s
‘royal mascot’. Although nowadays ‘e can’t get offa’ ‘is fat arse t’ guard
anythin’ aside from ‘is bowl. The lad ‘imself ain’t much better, or so I’ve
‘eard. ‘is memory ain’t improved in the slightest an’ ‘e’s just got this mardy
look on ‘is face, nothin’ like what ‘e used t’ be. I know somethin’s up, but I
daren’t ask what. Not just yet.
Right, who’s next? Better be Kenny, I suppose. Kenny was our
engineer, when ‘e wasn’t fuckin’ about in the ship’s ‘old that is. ‘e spent
most of ‘is time down there, inventin’ one thin’ or another, ‘alf of it was of
no use t’ us but ‘e still insisted on keepin’ it all. No wonder we sank so fast…
Eh, I’m gettin’ ahead of m’self now. Anyway, yeah, Kenny. ‘e’s
the eldest one of us, almost in ‘is sixties now. Yer wouldn’t think it though,
the amount of drinks ‘e knocks back in one go an’ the trouble ‘e gets ‘imself
into. I’ve ‘eard ‘e’s slowed down with that though, prob’ly fer the best
really. God knows ‘ow ‘e kept goin’ on but ‘e did, gettin’ up at the crack of
dawn just t’ see the sun rise. ‘e said it was the best time fer fishin’ and true
t’ ‘is word ‘e’d always ‘ave a bucket load of fish by the time we woke up. ‘e’s
a dab ‘and at cookin’ too, God knows ‘ow the rest of us aren’t as bi’ as balloons.
Kenny was, well, ‘e insisted ‘e was just “cuddly”, but ‘e was fine with that.
Prefered sittin’ on ‘is ass all day than gettin’ up and exercisin’ anyway.
Kenny ‘asn’t changed a bit in that sense. Only now ‘e doesn’t want t’ get up at
all. Although no matter ‘ow ‘ard ‘e tries now, it’s all a waste of time anyway.
Eh, movin’ on… J.C.? ‘e’s a funny one, is our J.C. T’ this
day I still don’t know ‘is actual name, though ‘e insists it’s Joe Cool. ‘e
would though. ‘e’s a proper womaniser, tryin’ out line after line on all the
busty sea wenches. Most of the time ‘e just gets shot down faster than a ball
out of our cannon, but when it works… well, we don’t ‘ear the end of it. I
swear there’s somethin’ fishy about the bloke though. I dunno what it is…
refuses t’ remove ‘is sunglasses apart from when ‘e’s sleepin’ (an’ God forbid
if you disturb ‘im), insists on dockin’ every few weeks so ‘e can buy some new
jeans (“gotta keep in style, eh?”) and refuses t’ accept ‘is premature baldness
is down t’ anythin’ but the “unorthodox arrangement of the air molecules when
we’re out at sea”. God knows what goes in inside ‘is ‘ead. Still, e’s a useful
fella, got a good eye fer direction an’ whatnot. Was always the mellowest of
the lot too, endin’ any tiff in seconds just by lookin’ at us and forcin’ a
beer in our ‘ands. ‘e did like ‘is beer. Liked most things really, apart from
the ‘uge storms that sent waves cascadin’ over the edge of the ship – and all
over ‘im. ‘e’d swear like a sailor and ‘ide away, ‘elpin’ Kenny with ‘is latest
gizmo or listenin’ t’ the radio with Shawn or findin’ Mona and givin’ each
other manicures. All that changed in ’92 though. ‘e ‘ated every single one of
us, refusin’ t’ speak t’ us ever again. All because of what ‘appened t’ Mona…
Ah, Mona. The only one with ‘er ‘ead screwed on properly.
Kept all of us in line yer know, makin’ sure we didn’t do anythin’ too stupid. She
ain’t borin’ though, far from it. She’s a red-’eaded, cigar-smokin’,
beer-chuggin’ empress of the ‘igh seas. Bit like Kenny, really. Then again, she
is ‘is great-niece, what would yer expect? She was sent t’ live with
great-Uncle Kenny back in the late eighties, when she was only fourteen. Wasn’t
the feminine little darlin’ ‘er old man wanted, said she was a disappointment an’
she needed t’ learn some old-fashioned manners. Kenny became ‘er guardian after
that. ‘er old man never knew ‘e was a pirate - an’ ‘ell, our boat was no place
fer a girl t’ grow up – but ‘e didn’t ‘ave much choice. She was on our boat
within a mere few ‘ours, tellin’ us we were pathetic old men who ‘ad no lives.
Luckily fer us she soon shut ‘er mouth after the “shark attack”, although she
still never learnt those manners ‘er dad wanted ‘er t’. In fact, she ended up getting’
tips of J.C. instead of the other way around, ‘im ‘elpin’ ‘er t’ fake tan legs
without it smudgin’ or somethin’ in return fer ‘er ‘elpin’ ‘im pick up women.
Worked like a charm – they all cooed over the little red-’eaded teenage pirate.
She still never let ‘er guard down though, never let anyone mess with ‘er.
Except they did. Five years ago t’ this day, we were
fightin’ the toughest, roughest gan’ I’d ever seen. They weren’t nice guys,
more like the pirates yer ‘ear about on the radio, wanted fer sedition an’
kidnappin’a n’ molestation. An’ that’s what they did. Took ‘er away in exchange
fer a ransom note, getting’ us t’ give up all we ‘ad in exchange fer ‘er safe
return. But it wasn’t safe. Not in the slightest. We thought we were clever. We
thought we could get ‘er back in one piece an’ still keep everythin’ of value
tucked away safely in the ‘ull of our ship. It didn’t ‘appen though. They tore ‘er
apart, sawin’ planks an’ ‘ammerin’ away at me beauty until she collapsed,
forcin’ us t’ abandon ‘er with nothin’ but the clothes on our backs. No riches,
no memories, no Mona. They didn’t let ‘er go fer weeks, months even. We tried t’
rebuild Sandy, thinkin’ we could fix every splinter an’ paint over the cracks an’
find our little girl. But that didn’t ‘appen either. J.C. became distant,
givin’ up an’ sayin’ it wasn’t worth it, our boat was junk an’ we’d never find ‘er.
I think ‘e blamed me – ‘e upped an’ left a few days later, tellin’ Kenny ‘e was
gonna forget ‘e ever set foot on the dirty ship. Kenny said ‘e needed a break,
goin’ into retirement because ‘e couldn’t take anythin’ like this ‘appenin’
again. ‘e went back t’ ‘is old street, my
old street. The street where me dad’d pull in every few months t’ replenish our
stock, see ‘is old friends, let me see what dry land was really like. I could
go back if I wanted t’. Take Shawnie with me. ‘e was the only one who stayed
with me through that, like I did all them years ago when I found ‘im on the
island. ‘e might not ‘ave been there all the time, but God damn, ‘e knew me
better than anyone. We could just… go. Leave Sandy be an’ get a real search
party t’ find Mona. Shawnie liked the idea. Prob’ly too much. ‘e left there an’
then, said ‘e’d find us somewhere while I sorted the boat an’ wait fer me t’
return. ‘Cept I never did. I lied t’ ‘im, carried on buildin’ Sandy instead, ‘oled
up in some abandoned warehouse near the shore we’d washed up on. Weeks went by,
months. I forgot the world even existed in all ‘onesty, ‘till Shawn came back
that is. ‘e looked ‘alf-dead ‘imself but that wasn’t the emergency ‘e was
squealin’ about. No, this was somethin’ far, far worse…
Character Images
*Character's names and appearances are subject to change. Quinn, Kenny and Mona are likely to stay the same. J.C. needs new hair, sunglasses and possibly darker skin. Shawn will probably be completely remade at some point because I made him when I was half asleep and I couldn't give a toss at that point.*
