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That morning, Susan did something she hadn’t done since she’d become a mother; she left for the orphanage without Damian in her arms. It was a strange feeling, one she didn’t care for, but she cared more than anything about Adam spending time with their son. She kissed them both before she left - the soft, sticky baby munching his morning grapes, and the worn, stubbly sailor that seemed to subsist on coffee alone.
...Previous
That morning, Susan did something she hadn’t done since she’d become a mother; she left for the orphanage without Damian in her arms. It was a strange feeling, one she didn’t care for, but she cared more than anything about Adam spending time with their son. She kissed them both before she left - the soft, sticky baby munching his morning grapes, and the worn, stubbly sailor that seemed to subsist on coffee alone.
Adam hadn’t met many children in his line of work. He didn’t hate them, but he had no reason to like them, either. They just, existed. They were a fact of the world, a fact about which he felt completely neutral. But this kid - his kid. Right. That would take getting used to - was pretty nice, as far as babies went. He didn’t cry too much. He didn’t seem upset that a random man had wandered in to his life. They played blocks together. Then the kid took a nap. They ate some carrots. Then they played some more blocks. Adam figured he could get used to this. Mrs. Carruthers had shown him how to change a diaper, and had been a little surprised when Adam’s expression had remained passive throughout. He regularly had to evict new forms of life trying to take hold in the damp corners of a seagoing boiler room. A diaper was literal child’s play by comparison.
Mrs. Carruthers had gone out back to tend the garden, while the boys played with a little wooden trainset on the floor of the living room. Adam watched as his son drove the train mostly on the carpet, and not the tracks. He wondered briefly if he’d been that stupid when he was that age. Probably. They were related, after all.
Meeting the child that he hadn’t known he’d had was oddly less confusing than hearing a knock at the door. Carrots, fine. Nap, fine. But what was one supposed to do with a knock at the door of a house that wasn’t one’s? Mrs. Carruthers couldn’t hear it out back. The kid wasn’t about to leap up for it. He didn’t seem to have noticed it anyway. When the knock came again, Adam stood, crossed the floor, and opened the front door with a slight hesitancy.
When he saw who it was, he flinched, narrowing the gap in the door. Captain Weatherdecker braced his arm against it; he was half again as tall and broad as Adam, and had no problem holding it at bay.
“Hoy, Adam,” said the pirate. “Howzit?”
“Oh, uh, fine, Captain! Uh, Vesco,” he said, with a nod. He leant harder into the door as Vesco set his hands on his hips, revealing two pistols under his coat. “What, uh, what can I do for you?”
“You can start by lettin’ us in,” said Weatherdecker. “After that, we’ll see.”
Adam quickly glanced back at Damian, still occupied with his train. The captain surveyed the slice of the living room behind him.
“Well, uh, thing is, Captain, this is my, uh…friend’s place, maybe I could meet you somewhere—“
Weatherdecker shoved his way in, forcing Adam to stagger backwards.
“Vesco,” he growled, “keep a look out.” Then he closed, and locked, the door behind him. “Won’t be a moment,” he said cheerfully, to Adam. “I’m sure your friend won’t mind.”
The fireplace was a few feet to Adam’s right. Slow as he dared, he started to creep towards it, and the poker that stood by the hearth. Weatherdecker crept closer to him, in turn.
“Now, now,” said the pirate, “nothing to fear from me. I don’t wanna hurt you. What good would that do me? I want you to stay in good health, my lad. A man can’t work proper if he’s been beaten bloody. An’ if he can’t work, he can’t pay the people what need payin’.”
Too close, Adam realized, too late. He jolted, but Weatherdecker already had him by the front of his shirt with one hand, a knife in the other, pointed lower down. Nobody moved.
“Where is it,” growled the Captain.
“I don’t have it, man, seriously,” said Adam, his hands up. “Not here, not now, but I’ll get it to you, okay? Okay? Just don’t do anything crazy.”
“You’ve had years. Years’at you spent sailin’ the globe when you coulda been workin’.” He jerked his head, indicating the bewildered baby on the floor, watching them both in awe. “Fuckin’ some girl, looks like, ‘stead of earnin’ what’s owed.”
He pulled Adam in closer, almost in a hug, and brought the knifepoint to rest against a hugely sensitive part of Adam’s body. Adam tensed all over, staring straight ahead over the captain’s shoulder.
“I could make it easier for ya,” said Weatherdecker. “Wouldn’t have to worry about kids ever again.”
“Look, man I’ll get you your money, alright? You said yourself, no one needs to get hurt.”
“How do I know y’ain’t gonna fuck off again, huh?”
“I’m not! I’m staying a while, with the kid. I’m not going anywhere, I swear!”
“You swear, do you? You also swore you were just running to the john. Took us a good half hour to realize you’d jimmied the window. Here an’ now, your word’s about as good to me as a blind helmsman, son. I want a forfeit that’s better than your measly little promise.”
“Look, the only thing I own is the tug! I don’t have anything else to offer.”
“If I take your tin can, how’re you gonna work? Makes no sense, my lad. ’Specially since that piece o’garbage isn’t worth half the pot. No, I’ll need summat a bit more valuable…”
As he thought, his eyes wandered to the child on the floor, staring silently at him with a toy train in hand. Adam followed his gaze, and immediately tried to shove Weatherdecker back.
“No!” he hollered. “You fucking monster, if you touch him I’ll—“
His head was bashed twice, in quick succession; once against Weatherdecker’s fist, once against the hard edge of the brick mantel. Bells screamed in his ears. Silent, heavy flowers blossomed in front of his eyes.
He hit the floor with his face. He saw the captain’s boots through the field of petals, walking towards the toy trainyard. Moaning, he reached out an arm across the hearthrug, just before the world faded to black.
Mrs. Carruthers came back from the garden with a basket full of carrots and onions. She scrubbed off her boots on the back door mat, humming to herself. The weather was lovely. The sea air was fresh. Most importantly, the boys were getting along so well. She hadn’t heard a peep from either all afternoon.
She set the vegetables down on the kitchen counter, and paused. She listened for a moment. Quiet was always nice, but…this was silence. No blocks clacking together. No chirping from the baby. No squeaking wooden train wheels. She crossed through the kitchen into the front room.
Damian’s toys were there, with no Damian in sight. No Adam, either. She was about to call out, when she spied the pair of feet splayed out beside the fireplace.
Mr. Airedale kept a careful eye on the shore that afternoon. There would be no time to waste. As soon as the captain and Mr. Vesco returned, they were to set sail. He had delayed high tea to keep his watch; not only that, but the men were restless and out of sorts that they had not been allowed ashore. To a man, they were eager to be on their way.
The first mate raised his spyglass at the sight of a tiny dot drifting from the beach; he lowered it quickly.
“Mr. Tiller,” he shouted, “prepare for departure.”
“Aye, Tim!” called back a chipper voice somewhere in the rigging. Men started to move on the deck below, some climbing the masts to assist Mr. Tiller, some readying the hoist for the dinghy. Mr. Airedale made his way through the bustle, looking very much like a ship himself, drifting calmly through restless seas.
He waited patiently by the hoist as the men hauled the dinghy out of the bay and secured it to the railing. Mr. Vesco hopped out before they’d finished, apparently in the middle of a conversation with Captain Weatherdecker.
“…rations to hand out, stores to count - a kid don’t enter into it. It’s not happenin’, cap’n.”
“Vesco, it’s a fuckin’ order.”
“Fine,” sighed the quartermaster. “I’ll look after it, an’ you can keep the inventory ledger. You CAN read, can’t you?”
“You gettin’ smart with your captain, boy?” growled Weatherdecker.
“Smart with you? That wouldn’t be fair.” Vesco remarked to Airedale. He turned and touched two fingers to his forehead in a half-salute. “Toodle fuckin’ pip, fuckhead.”
Mr. Vesco disappeared in the direction of the officer’s cabins. Mr. Airedale turned to the captain, silently, awaiting further information. Weatherdecker picked the further information up off the floor of the dinghy and clambered over the railing with it in his arms. Mr. Airedale raised an eyebrow as he approached.
“A baby?” he queried. Weatherdecker held the child out towards him without a word. The first mate studied it up and down as if it were a very poor specimen of show dog. It stared back at him in rapt clueless wonder. Then he looked at the captain, asking a thousand silent questions.
“Here,” growled Weatherdecker, when the hint was not taken. “Keep it fed. I need it alive.”
“Is it yours?” asked Airedale.
“No, gods no.”
“Well whose is it, and why do you have it?”
“It’s collateral.”
The first mate’s expression did not change. He blinked once.
“You took a baby as collateral?”
“Din’t have anythin’ else worth holdin’ on to.”
“You took a baby as collateral.”
“Look, ‘e owes me a lot.”
“You took a baby. As collateral.”
“Yeah I did, Tim, an’ you better take good care of it so’s I can get my money. Here.”
“I’m not a nanny,” said the first mate, as the child was thrust at him. “And you took a baby as collateral.”
“I gave you an order,” said the captain.
“I ignored it. You took a baby as collateral?”
“I don’ have time to look after it. Here.”
“Neither do I. You took a BABY as collateral.”
“Fuck’s sake,” growled Weatherdecker, gathering up the child in his arms. “Some crew you are! Lousy bunch o’ mutinous bastards…”
He stormed off in the same direction as Mr. Vesco. Mr. Airedale watched him go with a mild twinge of concern. Then, he felt a stronger twinge for tea.
“Mr. Tiller,” he shouted, “sails at the ready.”
Adam awoke to the sound of women’s voices. He could hear the tone, but not the words. Something wasn’t right. He opened his eyes, slowly; the light stung at first. He blinked the pain away and tried to sit up. He’d been wrangled onto a sofa in his blackout state.
Hands grabbed his shoulders. A face appeared in his vision, blurred and swimming. He knew it…he knew this woman, what was her name again…
“Adam?” she shouted. “Adam, are you alright? Where’s Damian?”
Damian? he thought. Never heard that name before. Who the heck is…
He sat up suddenly, looking frantically around the room, but his brain could not keep up. Feeling returned all at once. The dizziness, the pain in his temple and the base of his skull, the fuzzy vision. He started to slump back down, but Susan held him up.
“Adam, can you hear me? Say something. Say anything!”
He squinted unsteadily at her. “Susan,” he breathed. That one word exhausted him speechless.
“What happened, Adam? Where’s Damian? We can’t find him anywhere!”
With shaky arms and unsteady feet, Adam hauled himself off the sofa. Susan tried to support his weight; Mrs. Carruthers hurried over to help. They guided him where he seemed to want to go: one of the front windows overlooking the bay. He leaned against the sill, eyes fixed on the distant horizon.
“Dear, we need to know what happened,” said Mrs. Carruthers firmly. “Do you remember?
He heard, but he kept his eye on the ship. Still a ship, and not a dot, thank goodness, but it was moving fast. He raised a hand to the glass, and stuck a few trembling fingers to it. He wanted to say it gently, but there really was no gentle way to say:
“He’s been…taken. Kidnapped. By pirates.”
“What?” breathed Susan. “How? Why?!”
“It’s this guy, I…I owe him money. He came looking for me, and, I offered the boat, but he wanted more.”
Susan covered her mouth with her shaking hand.
“Oh my god,” she choked. “Where are they going!?”
“I don’t know,” said Adam, “but I’ll find out.” He tapped the window, drawing her attention to the bay. “That’s his ship out there. I’m going to tail them as best I can.” He set his hand on Susan’s shoulder; she grabbed him urgently by the arms. “Get the police. Tell them they want Richard Weatherdecker. Wouldn’t be surprised if they know him already.” His awkward unsteady kiss turned into an awkward unsteady hug. “I’m sorry, Susan. Please don’t worry. We’ll get him back.”
He let her go, staggering past Mrs. Carruthers, out the front door. Susan watched him, stunned. Her chest felt as if it had shrunk by inches. She could hardly breathe. Hands alighted on her shoulders; she looked up into her mother’s eyes. Her own shone with tears.
“Oh my god, mom…” she whispered.
“Susan, this is what’s going to happen. I am going to the guardhouse as fast as I can to tell them everything Adam just said. I’m going to spread the word far and wide to be on the lookout for a little boy. Then, I’m going to tend the garden, keep the house, and help the misses at the home until you come back.”
“Come back from where?”
“You are going with Adam, dear. If you stay you’ll be worrying yourself sick and I’m not having that. Sitting at home wringing your hands is not the way I raised you. Get out there and show them what happens when they cross the Carruthers!”
Susan inhaled deeply; she stood straight, and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“You’re right,” she sniffed. “You’re right, mom.” Her brow furrowed. Her lips tightened. “They took my baby, they have to answer to me!”
Mrs. Carruthers kissed her daughter on the cheek. Susan took a moment to hug her tightly. Then, she ran, her frozen shock melted by an all-encompassing rage. She would not worry; she would burn.
Adam had already started the engine by the time she reached the boat. She hopped over the railing just as he ran back up the stairs from the boiler room, nearly colliding with her. He caught her by the arms in a flurry, spinning her slightly on his way past.
“Susan, what the-? What are you doing here?”
“I’m going with you,” she said, brooking no argument. Adam tried anyway.
“Susan, no, you’re not. These are pirates we’re talking about. It’s too dangerous!”
“Dangerous? Oh, it’ll be dangerous for the men that took my baby. It’ll be extremely dangerous for you if you try to stop me.”
“I’m already risking my neck, Susan, I’m not risking yours!”
“You don’t get to decide how I use my neck! Start this boat! We’re going! Together!”
He broke away from her glare to glance nervously at The Ship. It had already shrunk since he’d looked last.
