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“Augh… What in the name of Davy Jones hit me?” the blonde haired figure grumbled to himself as he sat up and rubbed a hand against the tender goose egg on his head. “Ow…”

The last thing he remembered was having a few drinks with his mates before they planned to sail the next morning. He had stayed behind to finish off his last drink, then he paid his bill and left to follow his friends. And being out on the dark street was the last thing he remembered…

Garin’s eyes flew open and he looked around, finding himself in a small room with at least three or four others who were starting to come around. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. He knew what press-gangs were, and he’d often heard of folk waking up in this sort of situation before…

But he never imagined he might be one of those folk!

The door handle turned and creaked loudly as the sound of a key in the hole filled the room. Garin quickly and discretely reached to check for his dagger under his left arm, and sighed in relief when he found it there where it belonged. Not many knew to look for a weapon there, since it was such a small, thin thing and well hidden thanks to the sheath he made for it.

The door swung open and a large sea rat walked in, starting to herd the press-ganged sailors out of the room. Garin took his hand away from his dagger, deciding to wait until the time was right before fighting back, though if he had to guess, he would say that none of these pirates knew who he was, otherwise they would have taken his dagger away. Probably one of those ‘heard of but never seen’ bunches.

From the ground swell, the sound of sails billowing above, and by the light outside, Garin could easily tell that they were at least a full day underway already, which made him curse under his breath, and he could also tell that it was somewhere around seven o’clock in the morning. Once forced on deck Garin got a good look at the ship and it’s rigging; it was a forty gunner, and with the amount of sheet above it could probably do about twelve to fifteen knots under full sail, and was most definitely shallow on the draft, judging by the swell.

Articles of some kind were read off to the ‘new recruits’, but Garin hardly paid attention to them. He looked around, examining the crew around him, then finally he dared a long look at the captain.

He was a large rat with dark grey fur and dull yellow eyes. Long, messy black hair ran down the back of his neck and stuck out from underneath a large captain’s hat, and he wore a long black shirt with a belt hanging across his chest from his right shoulder. Black gloves with gold lining, and a large black leather handled cutlass hung from the belt across his chest. Garin winced at the rat’s size and the size of his weapon.

“So much for a quick escape from this lot…” he thought. “Still, I’d better think of something quick!”

The rat’s yellow eyes suddenly caught his staring, and Garin looked away quickly, biting his tongue and holding his breath. Of course the first step of getting out of here would be treading carefully…

“Now get to work!” Garin jumped at the loud crack of a whip and turned around, finding a short and very fat mouse wearing a ruined top hat and a torn up tail coat holding a long cat-o’-nine-tails. Garin wrinkled his nose as he smelt the heavy odor of all kinds of alcohol on the mouse, and he waved a hand in front of his face.

“Son of a devil Dutchman, what bilge did you crawl out of?!” he asked.

“Oh, a wise guy, eh?!” the mouse growled, then cracked the whip again, this time aiming towards Garin’s head. Garin let out a yelp and ducked, nearly tripping backwards onto his rump if not for an arm grabbing his. He looked up and found a taller, slimmer brown mouse wearing a blue headband holding him up and pushing him past the mouse boatswain.

“Move, and keep your mouth shut!” the mouse growled quietly. Garin found it better to obey than to argue. Instead, he looked at the mouse and lowered his voice.

“Where am I?”

“The Felicia,” the mouse replied. “Now grab a mop and don’t try that again, you hear, squirrel?”

“I’m not a squirrel.”

“Fine, just get to work!” the mouse growled again. Garin’s ears flattened and he sighed, knowing he had little choice in the matter. Though even as he grabbed up one of the mops, he could still feel the rat captain’s eyes watching.
Three days past, and Garin still had no idea how to escape. He knew his crew would be looking for him by now, and with any luck they’d find him again before the month was out.

Garin wiped beads of sweat away from his brow before they could get into his eyes. He continued to pull and tighten the rope before finally tying it off. He was used to this sort of work all the time on board the Black Pawkeet, especially when they first found her and fixed her up. He smiled, thinking of all the blood and sweat he, Jacques, and his mates had poured into making that slick beauty ship-shape that first time, and even several times after that. His ship had its scars, but it was still a sight to see, like the first blanket of black night, just lightly dusted with stars stretching out over the water.

Garin untied his headband from his forehead and soaked it into a bucket of water, wrung it out, then tied it back on his brow. His ears twitched and he winced as he heard the boatswain cracking his whip again, and he grit his teeth together. That fat little drunkard was going to get what was coming to him one way or another, by his hand or not. Garin looked up as the brown mouse finished adjusting another knot, then walked below, and he followed him.

“Oi, mate!” Garin called after the mouse as he followed down the stairs. The mouse looked at him. “I never got to thank you for that help back on the first day.”

“Picking a fight with Bart isn’t the wisest thing, friend,” said the mouse. “He gets a thrill with slashing flesh from bone. I should know.”

“Well, you did me a favor. I suppose I owe you one…?” Garin lifted a brow and held out a hand. The mouse glanced at the hand, but didn’t accept it.

“Basil,” he said, then turned and walked to the galley. Garin shrugged and followed, since the wafting smell of food was too tempting to pass up from that close range.

As he followed Basil in, he saw, passing by the galley, a young female mouse. She had dark brown hair and eyes, and was wearing a torn up white and red dress. Garin tilted his head in her direction, and she caught his stare, then hastened her step away from him and Basil. Garin would have scratched his head at the behavior if Basil hadn’t sighed in a sad tone and shook his head. Garin looked at him and elbowed him in the arm.

“Whose she?” he asked. Basil looked at him.

“Her name is Amber,” the mouse explained. “She was pulled from the wreckage of a ship the Felicia sank some months back. That r—” Basil stopped himself and cleared his throat before continuing. “Captain Ratigan keeps her on board, and lets her wander freely.”

“Like a trophy…” Garin thought, his ears flattening. He’d heard about this. It was similar to being press-ganged; you were forced aboard ship to be kept as prisoner, but you were allowed to walk about instead of being locked up in the brig. It was the ultimate way to give false hope of escape, because even though you were allowed to walk around freely, chance of escape was still very slim.

“Poor thing.” Garin said, before walking past Basil. As he walked, he stopped and turned around, thinking for the briefest moment he heard Basil utter a word in agreement with him. He paused before shrugging it away and returning his attention to getting food.

After eating the rest of the crew left the galley, Garin however, stayed there, sitting at one of the tables with his back to the door and his eyes focused on a small stove in the corner as he fiddled with a loose splinter in the table. He needed to get off this ship and get back to his crew, that was obvious, but one thing puzzled him about that girl, Amber.

The Felicia had to have stopped into port at least half a dozen times since she was captured, and even if it didn’t, one visit to port would have been plenty of opportunity to escape and find someone who would help her. It was eating at his brain! Garin grumbled to himself and leaned his head back against the crate and thumped it there lightly. Maybe she wanted to stay… but why?

Garin’s ears twitched as footfalls came towards him and he straightened up, just in case, but upon looking over to address whoever it was, found himself looking into the brown eyes that belonged to Amber. She at first didn’t notice him, as her gaze was cast down at the small stove, hanging a few rags to dry near it, but far enough away so they wouldn’t catch fire. Garin stood slowly and turned to face her as she finally noticed his presence and turned to him. He lifted one hand and gave her a small, polite gesture, as if he were tipping a hat to her, but since he didn’t have a hat a tug of his headband would have to do.

“Hello,” he said. She nodded at him.

“You’re one of the new recruits?” she asked, and he nodded with a shrug.

“So that’s what they call it,” he grumbled under his breath, then spoke up. “And you’re Amber, yes?”

“Yes.” Amber replied, turning back and hanging up a few more damp cloths. Garin walked over casually, hoping he wouldn’t alarm her. She stiffened and looked at him, so he kept his distance as well as a blank face, though he was still trying to figure out why she was still here.

“What are you staring at?” Amber asked, feeling a bit threatened by his presence. Garin shook his head a bit to try and snap himself away from his thoughts and opened his mouth to speak, yet he couldn’t let it go.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, then bit his tongue. Amber looked away.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You’re a prisoner here, why haven’t you tried to get away if you hate being here so much?” Garin asked. Amber’s jaw tightened and she turned away, heading out of the galley, but he followed determinedly.

“This ship has been into port plenty of times, so why stay? Why not try to escape?” Garin asked, continuing to follow her. Amber lowered her head and tried to walk away quickly, but Garin stepped in front of her and blocked her path.

“What’s keeping you here?” he asked. Amber looked away from him, her throat jaw tightening and her fists clenching. Garin tilted his head to look at her face, and when he saw it, he knew.

“Oh. Oh, I see. It’s not what… it’s who,” he said with a slight grin. Amber looked up at him, alarmed, and Garin leaned away from her, putting a hand on his chin as if he were thinking.

“Wait, don’t tell me!” he said, trying to think of who Amber was so in love with that she stayed where she didn’t want to be. “…Alright, tell me.”

“W-What do you want?” Amber asked. Garin blinked.

“Want?” he asked. “I don’t want anything! Well, except to get off this poorly named hunk of wood, of course.”

Amber blinked. “You… want to jump ship?”

“Yes. Though I’d prefer not to do so in open water. That’s never a good idea.” Garin said, cracking a smile. Amber eyed him warily and flattened her ears before shaking her head and turning her back to him.

“I don’t trust you,” she hissed. Garin sighed.

“I can’t blame you, considering everything you’ve been through,” he said quietly. “But listen to me, if ever the chance arises, I give you my word that I will help you and your friend escape.”

Escape. The word slithered through her ears and made her almost shiver. Amber bit her lip, trying to fight the temptation to listen to the echo of his words in her ears. She looked at him over her shoulder, her heart beginning to race in the slightest hint of fear that she tried desperately not to show. Her looked changed into something of a half-hearted glare as she looked at him.

“How do I know I can trust you?” she asked, almost accusingly. Garin thought for a moment, then reached under his vest and drew out his dagger very slowly. He flipped it in his hand so he was holding the blade downwards the ground and held the hilt out to her. It was true he never went anywhere without his dagger, but if he got caught with it things may turn out badly, not to mention he felt bad leaving a perfectly sweet girl like Amber without protection.

“Take this, hide it. And only use it if you have to.” Amber hesitated, but reached out and carefully accepted the weapon, gazing down at the strange blue metal in wonder.

“Its so light,” she said, turning it over in her hands.

“Aye, but its sharper than even a barber’s razor. Maractite is funny like that. Be extremely careful, don’t let anyone see it!” Garin said. Amber nodded and looked at him.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. Garin smiled.

“There’s this little part of the Pirate Code that often goes forgotten, but its one I live by daily,” he explained. “When a pirate swears an oath, he always keeps his word.”

Amber stared down at the weapon he had given her, then looked up at him and smiled, blinking to hold back tears. Garin smiled back and gently tapped her arm as he looked around.

“You’d better find a place to hide that and get back up on deck before you’re missed,” he said, then turned to walk away.


Garin turned back around. “Eh?”

“His name is Basil.” Amber said, wrapping her tail around the hilt of the dagger and hiding it under her dress. Garin smiled, nodded to her, then walked away.

Now he had work to do…
Gift for :iconals123:

I hope you like it Amber!
Add a Comment:
ALS123 Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Ok, now that I FINALLY have time to comment properly...

I LURVS IT!!!!! :squee: Your writing is always so descriptive and detailed, I can picture everything that's happening :love: I can't wait to see what plan Garin conjurs up to escape! :la:

And I'm so so SO sorry for taking so long to comment... I was going to Saturday but stuff came up, same thing with Sunday. But now I'm finally getting to it since I don't go in to work for a couple more hours ^^; But thank you thank you THANK YOU so much for writing this, it makes me so happy! :glomp:
6SeaCat9 Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
No worries!! Glad you like it! I can't stop grinning now!
WingsOfASong Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Y U NO HAVE COMMENTS. I love it so far! :3
6SeaCat9 Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
XD Amber is sleepy. She said she's comment all proper like tomorrow.

Hey, can we go for Saturday instead of Sunday? Tomorrow might be tight.
WingsOfASong Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Saturday works! ^^ :D
6SeaCat9 Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
K. I have a feeling I'm gonna be tired tomorrow.
WingsOfASong Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
I do too, actually. O_o

And I just found Part of Your World in Swedish. Prettiest thing I have ever heard in a while.
6SeaCat9 Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
WingsOfASong Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Actually all the Swede versions are GORGEOUS.
6SeaCat9 Featured By Owner Feb 8, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
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February 7, 2013
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