Guten Morgen, Leute! So, for this week’s Short Story Thursday, I thought that I’d share this one called “Stand on Both Feet” that I wrote a little while ago. It’s a pirate story so it’s even more fun if you read with a pirate voice! It’s got a lot of weird Pirate vocab and lots of Pirate name-calling and insults so it’s quite a bit of fun, I think! Anyways, enjoy!
Stand On Both Feet
“What say ye to that, ye sniveling bilge rat?” Nathan hisses at me, throwing me swab across the deck.
Rolling me eyes, I get to me feet and grab the swab, angrily scrubbing the deck. “Ye’ll get what’s coming to ye.” I growl at ‘im, hoping with all that’s in me that the long-legged seaworm’d bowl over with scurvy and topple off o’ the stern.
“Mullins!” Cap’n hollers. “What brand of seaworm are ye to put me pot of grog in the galley? Ye were s’pposed to deliver straight to me! Ye are of the knowledge that the wretches that ye call shipmates always go ‘bout swiping me pot of grog if ye place it in the galley!” he thunders at me.
Freezing in me scrubbing of the deck, I think back. I did bring the pot of grog to the good Captain. He was out cold, aye, he was. “Aye, Cap’n. Bring you the pot of grog I did.”
“Then why does Nathan here say that he found it in the galley?” Cap’n demands. “Well? Are ye dumb, girl? Ye can speak, can ye not?”
Nathan. The bloodsucking wretch twas out to get me all along. “Aye, I can speak. A long shot better than this mutineering sack o’ bones.” I sneer, looking at Nathan.
“Mullins, girl or no, yer a mighty waste of space on this ship if all ye can do is point yer finger at yer shipmate. If ye prove to be trouble, I shan’t hesitate to string ye up from the yardarms, ye hear me?”
“Aye, Cap’n. Me apologies, Cap’n.” I stutter, suppressing me want to pull up yet another excuse.
“Nathan, ye ol’ buffoon, yer to stop distracting Miss Mullins ‘ere, ye understand me? Well, speak up, boy!” The “Miss” particularly bites.
“Eh-wot? I did not get in ‘er way, Cap’n! Ye know how Mullins is, sir! Always dreaming!” he confidently says and the Captain sneers at the both of us.
“He’s a hornswaggler, Cap’n! Aye, that’s what he is!”
“Ye both better stop your clatterwacking, lest I make ye both taste me steel!” Cap’n hollers back. “Now ye get to hoisting the main sails, Nathan, we be turning too hard over the starboard.”
Cap’n disappears as ‘e heads back up to the Quarter-deck.
Nathan, temperish lad that ‘e is, refuses to let me blame go. “I toil all day, yet ye accuse me of bein’ distracting? I’ll ‘ave ye know me skills at swordplay be splendiferous! To arms!” He spits at me. The scoundrel be challenging me to a fight!
Cutlass in hand, I sneer at the hen-hearted numbskull. Me cutlass is dainty ‘n small (Cap’n always said me frame wert too weak to s’pport a proper cutlass). “Yer a coward, Nathan. A downright coward, sir.” I sneer. “Me cutlass is practically a needle and ye thunk to challenge me to a fight! Well, I’ll have ye know, ye scurvy-necked, bilge headed cabbage, I won’t be givin’ up! Ye hear me?”
“Step lively then, Jenny.” He chuckles, me first name a joke on ‘is lips. “I haven’t got all day, ye ignorant scoundrel. Cap’n may’ve taken pity on ye when ye wert young, but every belly-aching turnip on this ship is of the knowledge that yer nothin’ but a pitiful landlubber.”
“Nay. Tis you who be the landlubber, Nathan.” I seethe at him, lunging at him, cutlass in hand.
Touchy as gunpowder as ‘e is, the fool’s not on guard and me cutlass nicks his arm. “Set yer lamps on this, ye sniveling wretch!” I scream, kicking the fool back, his back a-hitting the stern. “It’s to the brig with ye!” I snarl and shove me cutlass at his throat.
“Don’t ye get underfoot of me plans, Mullins.” He gasps out.
“What plans be those?” I sneer at him.
“Our Captain’s n-n-nothing but a disgrace to Davy Jones’ Locker!” he guts out, choking as I push the blade harder at his throat. A trickle of blood drips down ‘is throat.
“I should string ye from the yardarms, I should!” I hiss at him. “But a thin slice of luck ye’ve got yerself, ye mutineering sack o’ bones! A very thin slice of luck indeed that I shan’t go to the Cap’n ‘bout your mutiny.”
“What do ye want, Mullins?” he spits out.
“I’ll help ye cast the Cap’n into the brig, I will.” I mutter. “If-.”
“Out with it, Mullins.”
“If ye give me command of the ship.”
“And let the likes of ye on the Quarter-deck? Never.”
I put a little more force into my grip on the cutlass. “Yer choice, Nathan. A lass I may be, but I’ve spend more time on this ship than ye have, n’er forget that, ye hear me? Well?”
Eyes wide with fear, his eyes close in defeat. “I yield!” he hisses at me. “Take command of the ship if ye help me, Mullins. But if ye become like the likes of the Cap’n we’ve got now… ye’ll regret it, Mullins. Ye’ll regret it.”
I sheath me cutlass in triumph. “Cap’n will be sorry. He’ll be sorry for years of senseless floggings. He’ll be sorry for turning shipmate against shipmate.” I declare, holding out a hand to Nathan, pulling ‘im up to his feet. “Ye’ll be me first mate. We’ll show ‘em.”
“Mullins!” Cap’n hollers, glowering down at Nathan and me. “Fetch me the map lest I tear yer hide to shreds!”
“Yes, Cap’n.” I yell back and I feel Nathan tense beside me.
“We’ll show ‘em.” He agrees in a whisper clapping me on the back before hurrying to hoist the main sail like Captain had told ‘im to earlier. Nathan lets out an odd whistle as he climbs the mast, Cap’n being gone to ‘is quarters once more.
The crew assembles on the deck, in front of me and I look up at Nathan in confusion. “What be this?” I hiss at him, hoping that ‘e can hear me.
“Yer new Cap’n, me hearties!” Nathan says just loud enough that everyone can hear. By thunder… this is mutiny. This is revolt.
And that’s it for me today! Hope you guys thought that this was fun! Vielen Dank und tschüss!