Chapter 2: The journey begins

The trip took months as Bastion knew it would. Long days of cycling through various duties left him feeling weak and worn at the end of the day. The captain's constant pressuring Bastion to find the three treasure wasn't helping.

On the bright side the weather was starting to improve as they sailed to their destination. The warm weather came gradually, almost imperceptibly until it could no longer be denied. Most of the me had gone from bundling up with an old jackets and scrarves to going topless in less than a month. The women were slightly less fortunate. Not willing to flaunt their femininity for obvious reasons, they were able to ditch their coats but had to wear frill shirts to keep up appearances.

It was hard work all around. Long days spent manning the sails, plotting course and planning how they would blend in with the locals well enough to slip in and take the loot.

One night, when Bastion was warming himself by the stove with Ron, the head cook, when a really intriguing discussion ensued.

"I really don't know what my father wants with a silly old oil lamp." The captian's son confided earnestly as Ron washed dishes a few feet away.

"I would be careful who you tell that to," the cook warned him in a tone that was firm yet not unkind. "If the captain here's that he might take it as mutiny, son or no."

Bastion shivered at the thought. Unfortunately, knowing his father, it didn't seem out of the realm of possibility.

"I will tell you this though," Ron said conspiratorially as he dried his hands and made to sit next to him, "I'm betting there's more to this than just a simple trinket." There was a twinkle in the cook's eyes, wonder. The same wonder that had left Bastion's spirit years ago.

"What d' ya mean?" Bastion asked cautiously, getting the feeling that the conversation was getting dangerously close to fantasy.

"Have you ever heard stories about genies locked in bottles? Forced to grant wishes?" Ron asked tentatively.

The captain's son raised an eyebrow.

"Hey," the cook chuckled lightly, "don't shoot the messenger, mate. If I had to hazard a guess I'd say that's what we're after."

"Or maybe," Bastion offered, a shadow of a smirk gracing his lips, "It's just a very valuable peice of metal."

"To each his own, I suppose." The cook sighed amiably.

"Aye," the captain's son agreed. "In any case I best be turning in and I think you should as well." Bastion advised, knowing tomorrow would be another busy, difficult day.

" Night then," Ron replied absentmindedly as he continued to soak up the warmth of the stove's dying embers. Sensing an end to the conversation, Bastion rose to his feet and headed towards the door. Casting one last glance at his friend, the youth gently closed the portal behind him and started his ascent up the stairs as he shook his head in slight exasperation. Ron had always been a bit fanciful but Bastion never expected his imagination to go quite this far, let alone the captain's. Bastion's father had always been a very practical man, one who never believed anything unless there was evidence to back it up. If what Ron was telling him was true, the young man felt that he had every right in his body to be very, very, concerned indeed.

Bastion crossed the abandoned deck as he made his way to his cabin, the floor swaying underneath him, a dangerous mix of the tide and a night of light drinking to ease the stress. Had his life been different, he likely wouldn't have touched the stuff as much as he had, yet when you're a pirate it was one of the only few ways to cope. Bitterly, the youth wished he hadn't let his crewmates goad him into the last couple of drinks. Tomorrow would be hell if Bastion was hungover. His head hut badly and The floor boards groaned and creaked unded his weight, age and overusee taking a toll on their integrity. The sound made Bastion grimace. The man's hands fumbled as he worked to insert the key that opened the dinky room on the other side of the wall. Finally, after much fiddling, the door swung open, Bastion hoped dearly that he hadn't disturbed any of his cabin mates. The last thing he needed was to be given a hard time tomorrow.

Bastion had never wanted to be a pirate. It had never even been of the faintest interest to him, yet the decision hadn't been his. Being born to a pirate for a father, the captain had already had Bastion's life planned out before he could even talk and he had always been too frightened to contradict him. The moment Bastion learned to read and write, his father had him signed aboard for a life time of service as a pirate. To be honest, he hadn't been given enough room to even think about what he wanted for himself.

Depressed and unsatisfied, Bastion stumbled inside and threw himself into his hammock. How would he get out of this life? Once a person signed a contract for piracy it was completely unbreakable. If Bastion so much as suggested it, there was a possibility he could be marooned on a deserted island or worse. He knew his father would likely be against the idea, but Bastion also knew there was little he could do if the crew decided to mutiny.

He felt trapped with no way out.

Tossing and turning, Bastion thought long and hard. After some time, he came to a decision: During the next raid he would escape. He didn't know how or to where- yet, but he would.This act of piracy would be his last. Thinking about it, he wished he had thought about the matter years earlier- say the day he turned eighteen. A slow grin- one he hadn't had in ages- formed on his lips. Satisfied that the nightmare was ending, that he could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel, Bastion finally managed to stop twisting and turning.

Bastion didn't know when he fell asleep but the morning was there before he knew it.

Feeling inspired, the captian's son put into action the first phase of his plan. Rising early, the captain's son began packing his valuables. Of course it had to be descrete. If other members of the crew cane in and saw packed bags it would all be over. Unfortunately this meant he had to be very selective about what he put away and where. Taking an old canvas bag and started stuffing a few pairs of clothing a small pouch of coins he had been given for his service in previous raids, an old spare compass his dad had given him, and stuffed it in his trunk. He packed an old bag of dates that the had gotten from their last sea port. It wasn't much but it would help with the hunger, at least for s short time. Sighing through his nose, Bastion wished he could pack more but he knew better than to chance it. Sensing that he might be in trouble if he didn't get to work on time, Bastion hurriedly got ready for the day as usual, making sure that nothing appeared out of place.

Doing his best to appear casual, Bastion made his way to the main deck. Thankfully, he was alone, the rest of the crew being at breakfast or else at different stations. Climbing the rigging and making his way to the crow's nest on the mast, Bastion took in the bright horizon infront of him. The faintist hint of the coastline was starting to become visable, the warm breeze told him that their destination was near. For the first time in years he felt something suspiciously like hope creeping into his soul. Smiling the twenty year old thought about his timeline. Should he escape into the night before they went in search for the treasure? Or should he sneak away during the search? No. They would need him then. The crew would notice. In the end Bastion decided the best course of action would be to wait until just after they got the treasure. If he knew his crewmates- and by extension his father- they were liable to get blackout drunk as soon as they got what they wanted. Bastion shook his head dismissively as he thought about it. The man loved his father and his crew but he also knew that this was not the life for him. Bastion knew likely that the captain would be disappointed beyond belief as well as his friends but he hoped that one day they might understand. The pirate grimaced, grateful that he wouldn't be there to see their reactions once they woke up and realized that he was gone. Shaking the uncomfortable feeling off, he focused on the task at hand.

It wasn't long before the first breakfast bell rang out throughout the ship, calling the first group down below deck for the morning meal. Reluctantly but still hungry, Bastion climbed down the mast and sauntered down the stairs, trying hard not to seem anymore cheerful than usual because the captain would be sure to notice.

Breakfast went by in a blur, like most days everyone was so hungry from labor that nobody spared him a second glance. Digging into his porridge, Bastion had to stuff his mouth with spoonfuls of hot cereal to avoid laughing at how blissfully unaware the rest of the crew were of his plan. It was only when Ron, who had come to inspect the table to make sure everyone was satisfied with their meal that the captain's son got a bad feeling. It was subtle, yet it was impossible to miss: Ron was surveying the table when his eye's suddenly landed on Bastion's. He hadn't said a word but Bastion could tell that he knew. The captain's son stared the cook down, begging him not to expose him. Not wanting to make a scene Ron broke eye contact first, politely excusing himself back to the kitchen.

The rest of the meal was seemingly uneventful but the captain's son couldn't get the encounter out of his head. The rest of the course passed in a blur. Bastion knew he had to do something. While he knew Ron was his friend and Bastion felt likewise he knew he had to confront him as soon as possible. Gossip spread quickly across a ship like that and Bastion couldn't afford to let his plan slip. He'd certainly never hurt Ron but he would make sure the cook would stay quiet- somehow.

After finishing up the porridge and leaving the table as nonchalantly as possible, Bastion acted like he was going to perform his duties, but instead he took a secret back way to the kitchen that he had discovered when he was a boy. Taking the element of surprise when the cook's back was turned, the captain's son slipped in behind him. Ron was already getting ready on the evening meal- slicing spuds- presumably for some stew. The situation was so stressful you could cut the tension with a knife. Bastion waited for him to finish and put the knowledge down before gently clearing his throat, causing him to jump.

"Why Bastion," Ron chuckled nervously, and the captain's son knew it was from more than just being snuck up on. "What do you mean, startling me like that?"

"I needed to talk to you," Bastion replied earnestly.

"What on earth about?" The cook asked feigning ignorance.

"You don't have to pretend with me," the twenty- year old assured gently, sure to keep his voice to a whisper just in case someone happened to pass by. "I know you could tell what I'm planning to do. I just don't know how you found out."

Ron sighed "It was your eyes," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're usually so devoid of any hope, but today when I saw you I could tell something was different."

"I can't keep being a pirate, Ron," Bastion confided "You were there when my father manipulated me into signing my life away. You know it's unfair."

"I do," Ron agreed, the uneasyness of the encounter dissapated.

"I can trust you to stay silent, then?"

"If the secret gets out I can promise it won't be from me," the cook vowed in a show of solidarity.

Relieved, Bastion smiled, clasping the cook's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend."

"It's no trouble," Ron replied, though both men knew it certainly was. The captian's son didn't want to think about what would become of them should the rest of the crew and the captain found out. "Good luck, mate. I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you. I should probably go now," Bastion cut the moment off sheepishly. Taking his hand off Ron, he made his way out of the passageway and went hurriedly back to his station before he was missed. Adrenaline filled Bastion's veins and a wide smile spread across his face.

As he neared his post, a thought occurred to him, 'I might just pull this off!'