A Pirate's Love

Mogador

Jake's POV:

"We must set out to find the Barbarossa brothers," I informed Sam as we moved along the beach.

"The Barbarossa brothers?" Sam asked, "I thought they were dead."

"No, not the Barbarossa brothers," I responded, "Possibly descendants, but most likely other pirates maintaining the name for power. The real Barbarossa brothers have been dead for centuries."

"Have you met with them?" he asked, trying to keep up in the desert heat.

"Only heard stories," I said truthfully, "But I know they are the most respected in this area." I trudged along in the hot sand, bracing myself with the branch as a makeshift cane. My lungs ached from the pressure in my ribs. We had been walking the beach for hours, making me question if the direction we were heading was correct. I cursed at the doubt and tried to trust my instinct, knowing the stars never lie.

"Most respected meaning 'most fierce?'" Sam asked with slight fear in his tone.

"Most respected meaning they control many merchant ships and capture many slaves," I responded, "I am sure they are brave men, but the term barbarian is often used by fearful Englishmen to tell tall tales. They will be civil," I reassured Sam, careful to break away from the stereotype. "If we show fear we will not be respected," I warned, "so keep your head." In the distance, a ship anchored off of the shore, signaling we were near the port. I wiped my brow of the desert sweat and sighed in relief. "Not much longer now," I said as I glanced over my shoulder at Sam.

As we got closer, more ships appeared in the sea. The wind hummed a much sweeter breeze as if she were whispering lyrics of hope. Small red-brown-bellied birds with gray heads danced in her currents. They sang with her as they fluttered around each other, a pleasant sight since the aftermath of our misfortunes. We approached the port with heads high, mirroring the confidence of the tall buildings to appear like we belonged. A marketplace spread before us filled with exotic produce, legumes, spices, and meats from all around the world. Vibrant-colored fabrics spread along the market vendors, sheltering the goods from the scorching sun, and displaying their worth and beauty. My stomach growled loudly as we walked past a vendor with steamed fish, the white flesh smelling fresh with hints of herbs and citrus. Trying to escape the temptation to stop and beg for food, I gestured for Sam to follow quickly. We walked past buildings while I tried to look for evidence of the Barbarossa brothers. Barbary pirates with turbans on their heads walked the roads, many with bottles of rum in their hands, enjoying the free space of the haven. I looked at signs, glossing over advertisements for prostitution, fortune telling, liquor, and gambling, many written in foreign languages I did not recognize. In the center of Mogador, a large building stood tall, displaying a bright green flag with white markings. The flag of the Barbarossa brothers. I snapped my fingers at Sam who was distracted by two prostitutes trying to coerce him to go near them, and he quickly twisted his head to focus on me. I pointed to the flag and began walking toward the building, and he followed close behind. Stopping at the entrance, I balanced my walking stick against a banister, abandoning it for the time being. I turned to Sam with eyes focused, signaling the seriousness of what was about to happen.

"Time to discuss politics, Sam," I said, "Just let me do all the talking." He looked at me with slight disobedience in his eyes. I pointed a finger in his face to snap him out of it. "If this fails, we could be killed and the mission of retrieving Elenor will fold. Let me do the talking," I warned again.

"I thought you said the Barbarossa brothers would be civil," he responded, a slight annoyance in his voice.

"Only if you know how to negotiate with them," I said seriously, making his eyes go wide.