More of my pirate story!

If you don't know what's going on here, you might have missed the first part that I posted! You can find it here.

Tell me what you think! Praise and criticism are both equally appreciated!!

xoxo

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Carlo knelt beside his mother’s lifeless body, his eyes over brimming with hot tears. His breathing came in short, sharp breaths as he fought to keep a manly front, to keep from sobbing aloud. Enrique leaned against the wall, his eyes closed. It was unbearable to look upon the painful scene before him, his little cousin’s shoulders shaking, his head bent. His aunt’s face was colorless, hollows around her eyes, her cheeks sunk in. Looking at her ravaged body, Enrique could no longer control his grief.
“How did this happen?” he cried, “Why did she never write? If I had known how things were here…” He looked at the thin figure of Carlo. “You’re a skeleton. Come, we must leave this house, Carlo.”
“We must give her a proper burial!” the young boy whispered, turning to his cousin, his eyes pleading.

The two salutes stood out in the deepening dim.
“She would have wanted a priest.” Carlo murmured, staring at the mound of dirt under which his mother’s corpse now lay. Placing his hand on Carlo’s narrow shoulder, Enrique bowed his head.
“Can we say a prayer?” Carlo looked up into his cousin’s face, his large brown eyes wells of sorrow.
Enrique nodded, and, although the simple words were no striking homily uttered by a solemn priest, they rang with emotion and feeling.
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…”
When they came to “thy will be done,” Carlo could no longer suppress his sorrow, and broke into sobs. Enrique knelt down beside the grave, his arms around Carlo, and placed a bouquet of sunflowers by the stone onto which Carlo has scratched the words, ‘Here lies Cossette Laurent, Darling Mother, Dearest Aunt.’

The sky was painted with gold, pink and red. A lonely bird twittered about in the trees above as Enrique gentled nudged Carlo awake.
“We have to get going.”
“Huh? Where are we going?” Carlo asked, stretching. His brown eyes had dark purple circles around them; streaks ran down his dirty face where tears had trickled in the night.
“We have to get to the Monarch before it leaves without us.”
“We’re going to the Monarch? Why?”
“You’re coming with me, Carlo. You’re going to be a sailor.” Enrique grinned reassuringly.
“But what about Mother?”
Enrique’s face fell. He looked away.
“Come on Carlo, we’d better hurry,” he murmured, standing.
“I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to, Enrique. I want to stay here, with Mother.”
“Carlo, what will you do here by yourself? You’ll starve to death,” cried Enrique, running a hand through his hair in distress.
“I won’t be by myself, I’ll be with Mother!” Carlo, tears streaming down his face, turned away. “Go on, I don’t want you.”
Enrique gripped Carlo’s arms.
“Carlo, you can’t stay here. You must come with me. Do you understand? I promised your mother I would take you with me on the Monarch. I promised.”


“Where’s that lily liver Cossaire boy? I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show today,” grumbled a filthy, reeking sailor.
“Heh, grateful is what I’d be,” muttered another sailor, as they boarded the Monarch. “A darn wimp, that’s what he is.”
“A real mama’s boy,” laughed the other.
“Good morning, Girard, Dacre. The captain has been waiting for your arrival. Everyone else is aboard, except for Cossaire.” First-mate Philippe Damont scanned the docks, his eyes narrowed. “Ah, I think I see him now…But who is that with him?”


As Enrique hurried passed the whistling sailors and jabbering merchants toward the Monarch, he talked hurriedly to Carlo.
“Listen, I know this is probably confusing, but no one on this ship knows I have a cousin, or that I’ve ever before even been in Ravenhill. You must not let it slip that we are related, or that we even know each other at all. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Carlo replied, but his face was full of bewilderment and uncertainty. “But why mustn’t they know we are related?”
“It’s complicated. I’ll try and explain it later. We haven’t time now. All you need to know is that you are a homeless vagabond in search of a position as cabin boy aboard a ship.”
“What is my name?”
This question rather surprised Enrique. Carlo’s readiness to accept whatever Enrique asked him to do was rather unsettling. He had envisioned difficulty in getting Carlo to follow the plan.
“Uh...Vasser. Yes, Carlo Vasser.”

“Who’s this?” Damont’s sharp voice inquired, frowning disapprovingly.
“The new cabin boy. He seems hard working, and I knew we were looking for one. So, I presumed--–”
“Well, we don’t need a scarecrow, and that’s about all this skeleton’s good for. Where’d you find him, the graveyard?”
Enrique quickly glanced at Carlo, fearful of what effect these words might have on him. The boy’s expression did not change; he stood straight and looked indignantly into Damont’s face.
“I may be lightweight, but I’m a hard worker. I could get twice as much work done any day as any fat lad.”
Damont raised an eyebrow.
“Is that so? Well…Take him to Captain Horatio. See what he says about it.”

“That was great, Carlo,” Enrique exclaimed as they hurried toward the Captain’s quarters. “Just keep that up and you’ll be first mate before we know it.”
Once they reached the Captain’s quarters, Enrique tapped softly on the door.
“Enter,” Horatio’s deep voice rumbled.
“Captain,” said Enrique respectfully, inclining his head. Shoving Carlo forward, he said, “This boy’s looking for a position as cabin boy. He seemed a likely candidate for the Monarch, so I brought him with me.”
Horatio, who had been sitting at his desk, looking over a large map, turned to have a better look at the boy.
“Is that so? Hmm, rather skinny, but seems to be made of a tough material. What’s your name, boy?”
“Carlo Vasser, sir.” Carlo replied, his chin lifted proudly.
“How old are you?”
At this, Carlo glanced nervously at Enrique.
“Uh, twelve, sir.”
“Hmm, a good age. Well, welcome aboard the Monarch, cabin boy!”

“I like him,” Carlo murmured as they left the cabin.
“So do I,” Enrique grinned, glancing down at his cousin. “Quick thinking when you said twelve. I didn’t think to mention it to you, but ten is a little young to be aboard a vessel such as this…”
“What kind of vessel is this, anyway? I didn’t see any cargo taken onto the ship.”
Enrique looked askance at Carlo, looking uncomfortable.

“Look," he said finally, turning around to look Carlo in the eyes. "You have to understand, Carlo, that not all the dealings that go on in this ship are what you could call honest.”
“What do you mean?” Carlo's dark eyebrows were drawn together, his expression unsure, worried.
“Well, Carlo…Let me see, how can I explain this," Enrique wracked his brains, frowning. "Well, it's . . . complicated. Carlo, the truth isn't always nice," he said, smiling sadly. "You see, many men aboard this ship, me included, are what...most...would call. . . . outlaws.” Carlo grimaced at the word, his face drawn.
“Outlaws? I don’t understand. You always made it sound like the Monarch was a shipping vessel.”
“Oh, well, sometimes it is.” Erique said evasively.

“Enrique, if I’m going to trust you, you have to tell me the truth.” Carlo frowned, stopping short. “You can’t expect me to be your blind follower.”
“Carlo, you wouldn’t understand," Enrique cried, almost pleading. "I'm not proud of what I do on this ship. I'd give anything to have another...profession," here Enrique gave a short, humorless laugh. "If you can even call it that. But things are complex, intricate, knotted. Everything isn’t as simple as some think.”
“I understand that, Enrique. My mother’s death wasn’t simple. I don’t understand why she died. I don’t understand what you mean when you say you are an outlaw. I thought you were a sailor, I thought the Monarch was a shipping vessel.”
Enrique grimaced.
“I'm sorry," he said, looking away. "You’re right, Carlo. I think of you as an ordinary boy, but... you’ve been through so much…you are so mature for ten...” Enrique sighed deeply. Running his hand through his thick hair, he looked Carlo in the eyes. “Carlo, the truth is, the Monarch is a buccaneer ship. We take what does not belong to us, Carlo. We steal, and plunder, and sometimes, kill. We are pirates.”