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<God, what an effort! But why didn’t they put us to wash the bridge?> Crik was tired. They had been carrying on crates all day, from the port to the deck of the ship, they were exhausted and that crate seemed heavier than usual. The two of them could barely not drag it!
<And in your opinion when there is something tiring to do, do they send admirals to do that? I don’t think so> Pam, all yawed like his usual – he was a very chilly type – replied looking at him as if he had said the biggest bullshit of the century.
<At least three of us could have been sent, this box is very heavy! What the hell is in it, cannonballs?> The boy protested again. His effort had made his face all red, and the veins on his neck risked bursting at any moment.
<Come on, shortly …> they slipped as much as they could along the newly cleaned bridge, and inertia made the lid of the box slip off.
<Come on, let me see what’s inside, I want to see what I struggled so hard to pull up> Crik pushed Pam aside, but when he looked into the box he was amazed, and immediately backed away perplexed and a little frightened.
<Shhh, hush boy!> The hoarse voice of a huge man reached him from the box, while an equally large hand grabbed him by the collar at the last moment.
<Don’t make a sound, or I’ll send you to the fish> The boy was scared to death, and with him his friend, looking around for the crew captain, a boatswain, anything. Out of fear, Crik fixed his gaze on the scary man: he had a patch on his right eye, a gold tooth among the many black and decayed ones and a wooden leg instead of the left one, a man with awful looks, much more like a textbook image of a pirate than they were.
<Do you see these?> With his free hand he slapped some posters in the face, with his beautifully drawn face above him and the words ‘WANTED’ written in large letters above. <This is my guarantee that if you try to screw me up I will make your life hell. Now you will close the box and take me to the hold, and no one will know of my presence, am I clear?> He hissed at him, spitting left and right worse than a llama.
Crik and Pam were terrified. They were young, and inexperienced, and they certainly didn’t know how to deal with a textbook pirate. Perhaps the mysterious man was betting on this, on the fact that they did not know what to trust, whether in their captain or in the threats of a man apparently full of means to slaughter their throats from head to tail. Would they have had the courage to take risks?
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