Plans

Captain Sam Hawkins looked around him. Somehow everybody at the tavern seemed to be having a good time. Loud music, raucous laughter and the mingled smells of rum and tobacco surrounded him. Apparently, he was the only man not having fun in the public house.

Hawkins picked his glass and drained it. He signalled a passing wench who was deftly avoiding drunkard hands, and she nodded. He didn’t have enough to get his ship back, but his money was good enough for more rum.

A shadow moved before him. When the man the shadow belonged to sat, Hawkins already had one of his pistols out.

“Woah there, Cap’n Hawkins!” the man said. “It’s me, Jinx.” He displayed his irregular, scurvy-poked smile as if to reassure Hawkins.

Hawkins hid his gun somewhere within his clothes. The maid arrived with a bottle and a second glass that she placed in front of Jinx. Without a word, she pocketed Hawkins’ coins and left. Jinx poured for both of them and drank his glass in one go, pouring again.

“Not that I’m complainin’ or nothin’, Cap’n, but you could have left me a note or somethin’,” he said. “This is the third tavern I visit. The Red Lion is not where you usually drink.”

“A note? You cannot read, Jinx. And you were too drunk, as always. It was better to leave you there by the berths. At least you were ashore.”

“Aye, Cap’n, amen to that”, Jinx said. He drank again “So. When are we sailing off?”

Now it was Hawkins’ turn to drain his glass and pour again. He stopped, considered, and poured for Jinx too.

“Jinx,” he said. “Do you remember the plans we had?”

“Plans, Cap’n? Course I remember. We stop for food and water, and we sail away to hunt for that Spanish galleon our… friend Plank told us about.”

“Good, Jinx, good,” Hawkins said. “Now Jinx, what would we need for that?”

“Please, Cap’n, don’t go playing games with me! I know I’m not the brilliantest of men, but…”

“Please humour me, Jinx. Here, have another drink and think. What would we need?”

“Well, Cap’n, we’d need a ship, of course. The Kestrel.”

“Excellent, Jinx, excellent. And what else?”

“Ahhh… A crew!. We’d need a crew.”

“That’s it, Jinx. Now, have another drink and tell me. Do you see my crew here?”

Jinx drank and actually looked around him.

“No, Cap’n, I don’t. Not one o’them”.

“And do you know why’s that, Jinx?”

“Ahhh… no, Cap’n, I don’t.”

“No, you do not. Because once again, you were so drunk that you passed out when everything happened. When all our carefully laid out plans went to hell. I don’t know why I tolerate you, Jinx.”

Jinx gulped, but he replied in a faltering voice.

“Because I saved your life, Cap’n?”

“Hm. Yes, there’s that, Jinx,” Hawkins said. He went to drink but discovered the glasses were again empty. Grabbing the bottle, he refilled them before continuing. “We have no ship, Jinx. The Kestrel is impounded.”

Jinx actually stopped drinking, the glass inches from his mouth, and stared agape at Hawkins.

“That scumbag Screed has seized control of Clew Bay. There’s a ‘berthing fee’ now. A fee that we could not pay. If you don’t pay, they impound your ship. You regain access to your ship when you pay.”

“But… but if we cannot sail, we cannot pay!”

“Precisely, Jinx.” Hawkins said. “After one month, any impounded ship becomes property of ‘Governor Screed’. That’s why the crew left, to look for other ships to sail in. I cannot blame them.”

Jinx stared at the bottom of his glass. So that was it: both he and his captain had been left here, and quite possibly all that was left to them was the content of Captain Hawkins’ bag. And apparently, he was intent on drinking it all away.

“Well, Cap’n, if you allow me…” Jinx said.

“Yes, Jinx? Are you leaving as well?”

“Me? No, Cap’n, I never could! No, I was going to suggest… If he’s taken our ship, let’s take one of his. Like Cap’n Finch in Port Royal. Cap’n, sir.”

A crooked smile crossed Hawkins’ face.

“Jinx, you’re a genius! We’ve got plans to make!”

~~~~

My entry in the Weekly Writing Exercise: May 4–10 in the Writer’s Discussion Group at Google+.

The challenge moderator Amy Knepper gave us was this: “I hope this one is open enough to let your creativity run free. People plan for all sorts of things. Secret plans. Exciting plans. Plans in case of a disaster. Instead of an event, write a story about a character who is planning something. Bonus points if you don’t explicitly say what they’re planning for and let us readers figure it out.” This was a difficult week; contributions only started on Friday and the challenge closes on Sunday.

I’m not very happy with my entry. I like it as a piece of fiction, but I can see it doesn’t really fulfill the challenge. I also think it’s better in its full form, which as usual was too long, at a little more than 700 words. I had to cut it down to 600 for the challenge, but the unedited version is here.