Wednesday's Word: An Excerpt From The Pirate Episode

   Welcome to Wednesdays where I share a snippet from one of my stories using the previous day's word from the New York Times' game. WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was Pirate. 

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I haven't used the word IRATE in my books, but I wrote a pirate story, so that's sort of the same thing. (And it reminds me of a joke. Why is the pirate irate? Because he can't P.) 

From Chapter 5

Joel paddled in the warm water, gazing up at the motley collection of men staring down at him. Their beards swayed in the breeze, and curiosity filled their eyes.

“Art thou British?” This man wore a long, scruffy beard, large silver hoop earrings, and a three-cornered hat. He looked like he belonged in A Pirates of the Caribbean movie.

 “Huh, no.”

“Where hailest thou?”

Joel’s thoughts scrambled. These people not only looked weird, they also talked weird. Were they actors in a reenactment? And if so, what were they doing in the middle of this warm sea where no one could watch them? Maybe they were filming a movie, or maybe Joel had hit his head.

But how? He didn’t remember hitting his head. And he hadn’t drunk the Witching Well’s water. But he had a cut on his finger. He held his hand up to inspect it.

Above him, the men tossed over a fat rope and it splashed beside his head.

“Hold on,” someone called out to him.

Seconds before he took the rope, he noticed a water bottle bobbing just beyond his reach. He grabbed it.

#

Cami woke on the captain’s bed. She tried to sit up, but her vision swam and her head ached. Sinking back down among the pillows, she saw the violin and bow propped up in the corner of the small room.

On deck, men shouted, and scuffling rattled the wood above her.

Another British attack? She wondered. Then she remembered the voice. Led Zeppelin. But wasn’t Led Zeppelin dead? She didn’t know a lot about classic rock, but her dad was a fan of seventies music. Led Zeppelin wasn’t a person, a long-ago memory reminded her, but a band. The lead singer had died and had effectively killed the band as well.

But no one in 1775 could possibly know that.

Ignoring the thundering pain in her head, Cami sat up. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she tried to stand. A rolling wave knocked her back down. She grabbed onto a bedpost and hauled herself up. Bracing her feet, she fought the waves and her rolling pain, and headed for the upper deck.

#

The scruffy, smelly men tied Joel to a mast with ropes as big as his wrists. He wiggled and squirmed, but he couldn’t work his hands free. The men gathered around him watched, their lips twitching beneath their rat-nest beards. He kicked anyone who came within his range, but the men seemed to find this more amusing than hurtful.

So, this is what people did for entertainment before television, Joel thought. But then a man in a billowing white shirt and dark breeches came into view. The looked so much like Joel’s dad, that Joel thought it was him…until he spoke with a funky accent.

“Who are you?” Joel and the stranger said at the same time.

“You first,” they both said.

Joel sighed. “I am Dr. Joel Fleur, and you are obviously a figment of my imagination.”

The man cocked his head. “Why would you suppose such a thing?”

“You look like my dad.”

The man stepped closer—close enough to kick—but Joel didn’t even try.

“And you look like my mirror,” the man said.

“Yeah, that, too.”

“Why is that?”

“I have no idea,” Joel said. “But since you’re most likely a character in my dream, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“But perhaps you are a character in my dream.”

The circle of men parted, allowing a woman to pass through.

“Cambria!”

“Dr. Fleur! What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? A few moments ago we were in the science room.”

Cambria shook her head and winced as if it pained her. “A few moments ago? Me thinks not.”

“Me thinks?” Joel echoed.

“I have been under Phillip Le Fleur's protection for several months now.”

“Phillip Le Fleur?” Joel nodded at the stiff, unsmiling man staring at him with his father’s eyes. “Like the blockade runner?”

“You know him?” Cambria asked.

“He was my grandfather’s grandfather.”

“That’s complicated,” Cambria said.

“Not at all,” Joel said. “Obviously, I’m in the throes of some sort of delusion…”

“You know, I used to think that, too. But after a few months—”

“Months?” Joel’s head swam, but he was pretty sure his confusion had nothing to do with his hitting head. In fact, he thought about hitting it again, over and over, to see if he could wake himself up.

Cami glanced at La Fleur. “How long has it been?”

He cut her a sideways glance and a fleeting smile. “Long enough for me to know that you are meant to be my bride.”

“No! Not possible.” Joel fought the cords around his wrists. They bit into his skin, drawing blood, but he ignored the pain. “Cami, you can’t marry this guy, not even in this nightmare.”

Cami stepped up to him so that her face was just inches from his. “You think this is a nightmare? No, the real nightmare was trying to measure up to my mom’s expectations. The nightmare was high school with its thugs, greasers, and prom queens. Not to mention the exams.”

“But…” Joel’s thoughts sputtered. “You are an amazing student. You’re popular. No one bullied you.”

“You don’t think I was bullied? Did I want to be there?” Cami grimaced, turned away from him and laid her hand on La Fleur’s chest in a familiar way that sent Joel’s adrenaline racing. “This man is harmless. You don’t need to tie him up.”

La Fleur cocked an arrogant eyebrow. “Harmless? You should tell that to Bloody Jack.”

“Why? What happened to Bloody Jack?”

La Fleur smirked. “Let’s just say he’s a little more bloody than he was before.”

“Then he should probably change his name,” Joel said. “He’s a walking self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Cami shot him a look that read you are not helping.

Joel pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, and offered up a prayer even though he hadn’t an ounce of faith.

La Fleur waved his hand and a burly man with a gleaming knife with a ten-inch blade sprang from the crowd. The knife sliced the ropes and nicked Joel’s skin.

Joel’s knees buckled and he sank to the deck. He hadn’t even been aware that the ropes and mast had been supporting him. Rubbing his chaffed and bloody wrists, he considered his options. Throwing himself into the sea seemed the best course of action, but he didn’t want to leave Cami. She was the only thing in this fantasy flight that made sense. 

Sort of.

La Fleur flicked his hand again. “Take him below. Find him a berth and make him comfortable. We’ll dispose of him when we reach Kingston.”