The Soul of Scarlet's Lost Tears

When I became of age, so being, eighteen it was certainly known to me, by the looks and stares of others. I start to enter, into a rustic bar, filled with other partition’s, of pirates or outcasts from far distances of the barren sea.

Which at firs it would be rowdy and maybe a little obscene. The sound of glass breaking, laughter echoing, with the balance of chairs being thrown across the floorboards as it made a deep rumbling sound.

To even the sound of wenches screaming with glee, with all that excitement, you wouldn’t think, that someone, a person from a farming background; that later became a like pirate crewman.

Still, with the look of innocents, which in this type of places that I been recently have been certainly fled the coop. By just walking into such a place like a known tavern that have seen quite a lot of interesting characters walk through the same rickety old doors creaking back and forth. That, that very same place, that was making a lot of noise of hooting and hollering would suddenly cease, with only small chirping sounds coming from a lonely cricket.

Of course, I rarely go into places alone any more, which who else but, for my 2nd in command and closest friend Keith, would walk up behind me, place his hand on my left shoulder.

With that simple gesture, we both would continue to walk into, and straight over toward the bar. Within several years that we both manage to stay alive. From the many ways of new lessons, we’re taught, we each had our very own style of clothing apparel we wore.

Though, let alone being surrounded, figuring I had to strongly improvise on how I don’t quiet show the little girl side of me since it was obviously clear due to how the men most aboard truly despises women being on board a ship to even being accompanied as an equal part of the crew.

I had to really mold myself, to where I even had to wear in men’s attire to have any ounce of respectable forthcoming. To define what I wore, and how they would see me as a; 5ft 4, 18-year-old wearing long sleeve shirt, and long dark slacks. Which I covered that with shin high length; flat healed black boots, to even wearing a long dust coat.

Which I therefore use to hide any weapons I would be caring with me always. For Keith, he would be slightly wearing the same attire as I was, but with his persona being slightly taller than me; he wore a P-coat length jacket that went to the back of his knees, as he wore long tailored slacks and fainted tan boots that still had small patches of caked on mud. With a white short-sleeve shirt and over top of that he wore a mahogany brown vest.

We still were a sight for red eyes that were seemingly glued on us. Up until we reached the bar, I turned my head, and only for a spell, to nearly a second, as I looked back at the many eyes.

That were there, no words, but a meager sigh, I turned my attention back around, pulled out the wooden stool that was placed right in front of the bar. I began to lean over to my left, and only flexed the tail of my jacket.

So, that I would be sitting more on the chair than my coat.

Within that moment of doing so, I noticed that, the bartender made a small nod back to those around the room, from the quietness of the tavern, within a snap of a finger it became alive again, without skipping a beat. Waiting for him to acknowledge me, I then turned, looked at Keith, when suddenly I felt the bartenders hand placed on top of my right hand. That’s when, he (the bartender) leaned across the bar, while gently pressing as he pulled against on my hand.

Above an obvious whisper, he said “you’re either very

brave, or foolish to sit here at the bar”. Which I then thought to myself, at the same time by removed my hand from his saying to him “it is never too easy, to get what you need than what you want”. Brushing aside with my right hand against the jacket, as I briefly, taking a deep breath in than proceeded to exhale slowly.

I was about to say something when, Keith stepped in and told him “that he’d better not do that again”, as the tension started to get even thicker when Keith even placed his sword on top of the bar, in front, and in-between him and the bartender.

Taking a quick gander around, noticing that no one notice what was happening, as they only paid attention to what they were doing and not was going at the bar.

For one whose all for a peaceful solution, then a candidate for fighting, I profoundly grabbed Keith’s sword by the handle; with the point of the blade facing downward. Standing close, and between us so that no one could see it, whispering in his ear “we’re here to quench our thirst, not for blood, so put this a way, a cool down your bloodhound demeanor”.

He then replied whispering into my ear “but, as your second in command I’ve a sworn duty to protect you, my caption at all cost, on and off the ship”, “yes I know that you have sworn that, and I do appreciate it fully, however”. I started to end it with ‘however’ but another brush of silence soon came over the tavern, when another stranger’s shadow entered the room prior to who it was.

At the corner of my left eye I saw only a quick glance, until Keith turned toward the direction where everyone who was there and paying attention to the one who proceed to enter the room. Which led to finding out who it was, therefore to a surprising ending to the subtle mystery, it was none other than Caption Maxwell. “Well, well as if it isn’t my old caption from The Bell-Lock”. With hesitant exasperation, I looked back toward the front of the tavern to see for myself if it was whom he said.

Not a second went by as a smile of a smirk soon crossed all our faces, in shire happiness to see one and another, we three soon gathered around a now empty table, as for Maxwell soon ordered us a round of rum.

We each sat down, with our own glass of rum, and began to listen in to Maxwell’s tale of events. Mesmerized by his story of how it was, and how it came to be, that there was so much more to the story from how he appeared to be sitting in my presents; not quiet ragged nor worn out, till I then asked him “sir, may I ask what brings you hear”, “well, it’s simple my young Caption”, “you see, I am here to find someone to take my place aboard my new ship”, “boy it must be fate that you would run into us here huh, isn’t it Sara”.

With a blank stare, Keith then stopped, where he then noticed Maxwell stood up from his chair, shuffled his feet, moving toward Sara, and taking his left hand and then by grabbing an envelope from a hidden breast pocket of his suede jacket, then leaned forward. Handing me the sealed envelope with his moniker brandished in the center of a dark red wax, with the message “meet me alone, at the shipping docks with your answer”.

By not expressing to have, even opening the sealed envelope I agreed to meet him, alone. Where I should have not have done that, and thought about that decision much further in depth.