The Chronicles of a Pirate

Chapter 1: Getting My Sea Legs.

          As the wind kicks against my face, and the water lightly splashes on my hands, I lean across the rails of The Ranger. That's the name of our small sloop. I cant help but think its strange, being part of the Royal Navy. I'm just glad I don't have to wear those silly powdered wigs, like the higher ups. I'm simply a petty officer. I've been in the navy for a couple years now. I was recently chosen by Lieutenant Maynard to be part of this expedition. Word is the higher ups are paying him to go after Edward Teach, the bloke who's been holding Charleston Bay hostage. Were sailin' on two ships, The Pearl and The Ranger. The Lieutenant is on the other ship. We sacrificed all our cannons to be able to go faster, and make it into the shallow areas.

          The quartermaster says Teach knows these inlets like the back of his own hand, and can navigate these shallow waters. For some reason, he grounded his ship, The Queen Annes Revenge, and fled out here on a sloop he named The Adventure. Why, none of us really know, although the quartermaster thinks it was to get away and throw us all off of his trail. He also marooned a bunch of his crew mates. Most of them were hanged, and the rest thrown into prison.

          Blackbeard is what most call him. He's become famous around here and through the Caribbean for his usage of fear to take ships. He puts cannon fuses into his hat, and lights them on fire before battle. He carries several pistols and he's vary skilled with his blade. I'd like a chance at em, just to see how I'd fair. My uncle taught me how to fight. My uncle is part of the reason I'm where I am today. 

          I look out to sea, and start thinking. Not about one particular thing, just everything that's gotten to this point.

*****NOTE: Straight line denotes a series of flashbacks, of which Edward will talk about his past, and then you will read about it. (Sorry, thought Id let you know.) Each series will end with another line.*****

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          My earliest memory is with my Uncle. His name was Nathaniel. I called him Nate. I don't remember my mother or my father. My uncle raised me up, taught me how to read using his Bible. He is a vary devout follower. When I turned ten, he gave me my fathers cutlass. It currently sits in my home, as The Navy wouldn't allow me to bring it. The older I got the more I could appreciate its beauty. It was perfectly balanced, and the hilt was trimmed in gold. He taught me to fight using it. He would always beat me.

          "Boy, let go of your anger and perry!" He said.

          "Uncle Nate, I cant!" He slaps me.

          "I don't want to EVER hear that word pass your lips again! I cant is the same as saying I wont! Now get up and try again." I swing my blade, and he easily deflects it. I try again and he deflects again, this time kicking at my shin, and knocking my foot out from under me.

          "You have to learn boy, you will be good."

          "Why do I need to learn to fight anyway?"

          "Every man needs to know how to defend he and his wife. Now, stand." I swing my sword again, but this time I have an idea. He deflects my blow again, so I reach around and grab the pistol below me. I aim it at him.

          "Don't ya be aiming a pistol at a man unless you plan to kill him, Edward." He swings his sword at me, and I throw the pistol into the air. In his distraction, I stand back, parrying his swing, and punch him on the side of the wrist, on the bone. He drops his sword and I lower mine at his neck.