Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Ten Fathoms Deep On The Road To Hell ❯ Chapter 1

Sideo y Montabon Bandara Icarus was often drunk in these past months. Very, very, drunk; Piss drunk, dead drunk, red, tickled, slurring like Soolemann. Whatever phrase you would use to describe his disposition you couldn't deny that this man was usually quite simply, smashed in the face, drunk. He was living wild and drinking wilder. Rum, liquor, grog, wine, beer, were all sloshed down his gullet to try and set to rest his problems. None of them could do the trick. He could be found staggered like a clumsy ghost through the hoards of people his sword rattling loudly on the cobblestone path before him.

 

But not on this day for this was a day for sobriety. It was a day to find work. His resume was clutched tightly in his left hand, his right fell onto it's familiar resting place of his sword hilt. He had to find a ship, for with a ship came money, with money came power.

 

Ahead of him on a hill lay the harbormasters office. It was a great three story building, a rarity in this city, and composed off a great quantities off wood, hay, and stone. The harbormaster was the place to find near assured work if you were a sailor. After all what explorers could do without the hardy mariner to work his ship. A great silver bell tower topped off the structure. This was perhaps one of the most incredible bell towers in the Iberian. Silver was one of the most sought after substances on earth and everything from the tower, to the bell, to the weathervane was composed of the precious metal. Gold and silver signified not only wealth and power, but also the intertwined prospect of a job.

 

He cautiously navigated his way to the bustling pier that lay in front of the towering structure. A wide array of people populated the seaside docks. An array of nationalitys swiftly proceeded on to their destinations. Some were of a less, prestigious, class than others. A whore called out from a porch “Hey sailor! Looking for an unforgettable afternoon?” She hiked her skirt up to her thighs. Sideo, was not this reckless. Perhaps just days earlier he would have accepted this offer. But now he was going to change, be a man of the Lord. Besides she probably wasn't worth the diseases she carried.

 

His mother, if nothing else, wanted him to be a good Catholic. Lusts of the flesh, were not on that agenda. Besides she wasn't worth the disease she was likely ridden with. He proceeded onwards until at last he stood at the great doors of the harbormasters office.

 

He stepped inside, though his hopes were not at their highest. He'd visited such establishments in all the great cities of the Iberian, but had no luck in employment. Inside there were ten desks teetering with papers and a long line of sailors behind each one of them. The wait appeared to be for a half an hour at least. The sailor in front of him turned around and tried struck up a conversation with him. He didn't especially feel like talking right now, but decided that it would at least take his mind off of the coming interview.

 

“greetings signor! A beautiful day, yes? One worthy of employment for the both of us! I've been rejected twice before but I have high hopes for this day! Getting out and fighting God's fight for Spain, yes?”

 

A Spaniard. Sideo's respect for this man instantly fell a few notches. It was Spaniard's who were constantly trying to overrun his country and absorb her into Mother Spain. It was a Spaniard who had robbed him of a large chunk of his money, a Spaniard who had him constantly flogged on his first vessel, and a Spanish judge who had exiled him from Portugal. He did what he thought would avoid a fight. He lied. “Indeed, employment would be a blessing worthy of many nights of thanks.”

 

“Your name and ship?” It was a harmful enough request, a simple question from one mariner to the other. It was a question Sideo himself had asked many a man; but for him there were hidden implications. Shameful implications, of dishonorable behavior. “I do not believe it is in either of our best natures to reveal that information.” he said coldly.

 

The sailor was taken aback, “I didn't mean anything personal about it! I swear! I'm truly sorry I offended you.”

 

“As you should be.” Always, were men trying to discredit him. He had almost grown used to the backhanded compliments, the talking that went on behind his back, and downright insulting remarks he heard on a daily basis; almost. The sailor uncomfortably turned and stared ahead until he was called forth. No one tried to strike up a conversation this time, and Sideo was fine with that.

 

“Next!” a slightly pudgy bespectacled man called out to the crowd. Sideo stepped up to the desk. The man looked him up and down, sizing him up. His eyes rested on Sideo's face but lingered only a few seconds before he asked the inevitable question. “Your name and ship please?”

 

The last few times to the harbormaster's Sideo had provided a fake name and a fake back story. He had always made sure the story fit, bribed captains to vouch for him, and played his roles perfectly. He hadn't been hired. This time he would throw caution to the wind, give his real name, his real ship! He was tired of hiding, tired of acting. He leaned forward so his was very close to the astonished scribe. His lips opened and closed slowly and deliberately. He keep his voice as quiet as he could manage and whispered “Sideo Icarus, full name Sideo y Montabon Bandara Icarus, captain of the San Maria.”

 

The employer's jowls flapped open at this revelation. “Admiral Sideo Icarus!” He shouted in incredulity. The heads of everyone in the room swiveled over to where the shout had come from. Then the whispers started once again, slowly at first but gradually rising to a crescendo as the name passed from mouth to mouth, line to line.

 

“Yes sir. I came here to request a berth on a ship headed towards the New World-”

 

The small man rose so suddenly from his chair papers went flying off of his desk gently floating down, resting at Sideo's feet. “Can you believe the arrogance of this man? The pure gall this man must possess to ask me for a berth on a ship, me!” He looked at his companions at the other tables. They were all glaring daggers at Sideo. The man continued, “You don't know me, but I sure know you, admiral.” He spat this last word. “My dear friend was a bosun on that `pirate' ship that you sunk. My friend of 20 years. How do you think it feels to be told that your close friend was killed, but not in battle, no, by friendly fire! You gave no warning and took no prisoners. For your crimes on that day you will not receive berth from me. Not from me nor from any of those who work here. Not today, not ever! If I have my way you will never again find yourself behind a ship of war! Now GET OUT!”

 

"But-"

 

"OUT!"

 

A great mass of arms grabbed Sideo under his armpits, along his arms and chest and hoisted him off to the door. the great wooden structure was torn open and he found himself being tossed out onto the pier below. He slammed into the ground painfully on his left shoulder. There was a great thud as he impacted the ground chest first. He didn`t feel as though he had broken a bone, but one never knew. Sideo had a general distrust of doctors and was not quite experienced to diagnose his ailment himself. He did know one thing. It hurt, a lot. The great bell rang twelve.

 

Two off-duty sailors jeered and laughed heartily at him, mocking him as he struggled to get back on his feet.. That wasn't right Sideo thought. He was one of the greatest admirals ever to come through the Portuguese navy! These simpletons dared to mock him? Huffing and heaving his way onto his feet, he arduously found his way over to the two men.

 

"You don't know who I am do you? He blinked at the men and then shook his head. "I am the great admiral, Sideo Icarus!"

 

"Would you list'n to that eh? The great admiral Sideo is honoring us lowly bastards with his presence!" One of the sailors exclaimed in mock surprise to his companion.

 

"The admiral Icarus! But Richard, if this is the great admiral, why isn't he on the high seas apprehending pirates and gaining glory for Portugal? Oh that's right, the king removed him from his duties after he went bonkers on some civilian transport!" The other sailor replied.

 

Damned English bastards and there damned uncivilized Cockney accents! My mother's life that Cockney's what the demons speak in hell!

 

"Now listen here, you English dogs! That was a pirate ship, it was!"

 

“Pirates! That was a French vessel. Hell the bloody Frenchie king's nephew was on board! pirates indeed! You're naught but a washed up fool.”

 

Sideo had to avenge that insult against his word, his very honor. He whipped his sword from his sash and impaled the man in his stomach. Well that was what he did in his mind. The actual result was a foolish looking removal of the sword and an even more foolish thrust that the sailor easily sidestepped. Alcohol and a lack of practice had deeply afflicted his swordsmanship. One off them grabbed his sword wrist and quickly disarmed him of his weapon while jabbing his ineffective shoulder with his other hand. Sideo's nerve's screamed at him with pain and his vision fluttered. His eyes opened just in time to see the other man rear back. His fist flew with terrible velocity and accuracy directly into Sideo's solar plexus. He fell to the ground retching and vomiting up the contents of his breakfast all over the old wooden docks.. He looked up just in time to see his sword being tossed off the pier into the depths off the Atlantic. Cockney bastards was his last thought before he succumbed to unconsciousness.

 

" " "

 

Sideo groggily shook himself into consciousness. Iron bars, cold stone walls, and a pile of hay lying in the corner covered in feces. He certainly wasn't in his home. Slowly it dawned on him. Oh Madonna, he was in a damn prison cell, with no damn food, no damn rum, no damn bed, and a big damn, hay covered, piece of shit. Damn it! He pinched himself hard in the arm. Blasphemy! It was not what the Lord had wanted of him, but he cursed anyways. And drank. His old captain had told him `The Caribbean is no place for the ten commandments. I figure God's a little more lenient on the other side of the world.' But Sideo found little comfort in these words. He had been wickedly sinful the past few months. No small confession would satisfy his penance. He had to make a drastic change, or lose touch with the Lord forever. He first had to get out of this filthy cell.

 

His chest was hurting him terribly. He found even talking caused him to flinch in pain, “Guard.” He called out, there was no answer. He called more urgently, “Guard!”

 

An aloof looking dark haired man who looked to be in his mid fortys walked over to his cell door. The key ring at his waist jingled as he moved. “Want do yeh want, yeh mangy cur?”

 

"I was just aspiring that I would be permitted to inquire about why I'm being detained in confinement without a minute shred of substantiation of my misconduct?" The guard looked at him very stupidly. It appeared he was not a learned man, Sideo could take advantage of that.

 

Stupid men could be confused, controlled, and then manipulated. He would have to concentrate very hard, think back to the lessons in oration his father had drilled into him. Being a Greek, his father treasured his country's long history in the art of oration and instilled everything he, and the great philosophers of old, had learned into his eldest son. By this virtue Sideo was able to use his silken tongue to get him out of situations his often poor swordsmanship could not.

 

First step, play the role. Make him believe your someone your not or someone better than you really are Also known as the nobility ploy. "You don't know who I am do you? Why am I imprisoned?" he demanded.

 

"Yer a convict and that's alls that matters."

 

This particular trick had gotten him out of quite a few situations. From about his 15th birthday many a person informed him he was the spitting image of the Count of Lesser Castille. He would tell a barkeep this and it might mean free drinks for that night, now he was acting for his freedom. He'd made sure to do his research on this count and found to peculiar quirks. The first was well know throughout Spain. The count was an unmatched germaphobe. His sense of cleanliness was said to rival the religious fever of the Spanish clergy. He always wore specially tailored silk gloves, when sleeping, eating, walking, or even (so the rumor went) when making love. Sideo always carried gloves in a spare pocket for times when he had to use the world as a stage. He managed to slip these on without the guard noticing. His dress was still the noble-like clothes he had hoped would win him a job the day before. They had failed in that objective but could perhaps win him his freedom.

 

"I'm Count Alphonse de Sanchez, ruler over half of Castille!" He told the guard holding his now gloved hands up as proof, "Who in the world do you think you are! To lock someone of my stature in a dirty cell like a filthy peasant! You must be out of your head!"

 

"Yeh can't be the Count! He was called for some fancy dinner tonight with the King!" The guard rebutted.

 

"You wouldn't want me to have to miss that dinner would you? The King would be cross with you if I was to miss a dinner, because a fool of a jailor wouldn't take a gentlemen's word!" The jailor eyed him, still warily but now slightly more fearful. Sideo abruptly changed his tone of voice, from his scathing rhetoric, to soothing, flattering, words of promise, "But if you were to let me go; I could probably get you commendation from the King himself! You, a man so committed to his duty he was almost willing to hold me, a suspect in custody, even if it meant to brave the King's wrath! But this man was also valiant enough to admit he had made a mistake and let me leave my false imprisonment to met his Highness! I could probably get you a post somewhere much more glorious than this simple jailhouse! Poets, would sing praises of your exploits! You'd be famous! The women..." Sideo snapped his fingers in the air a few times to emphasize his point.

 

By now his guard had stars in his eyes and was hanging on Sideo's every word. "Now then, do the right thing, the honorable thing, and unlock this cell please." The guard nodded dumbly and fumbled for his keys. The metal screeched in protest as the key turned the lock open. The door was then pushed by Sideo and pulled by the guard at the same time. In response it flew open with unprecedented force throwing the jailor off balance. Sideo rushed forward and grasped the man by his hand and pulled him upright again. Sideo asked the man his name. He replied breathlessly and proceeded to usher Sideo out of the jailhouse. As Sideo hit sunlight he gave one of his gloves to the shocked man as a act of faith. He then shook his hand with his still gloved fingers and promised to talk to the King about the exchange.

 

Just like that in a matter of minutes Sideo had talked his way out of prison. But he had only a few days before the man would figure out the lie. Then a manhunt would search the country until he was put to justice. He had to get out, get away, and start anew. His thought's turned to the Caribbean, the New World! That was where he would make his living. The trouble would be finding a berth to get there.

 

* * *

 

“Beer me, Reynold.”

 

“I can't do that, Robbie. You've already had three this afternoon! You know what would happen to my business if my best customer keeled over and died from rum rape.” The term referred to the way that too much alcohol would absolutely destroy a person's senses and immune system. It was a crude, obscene term that would make upper class gentlemen and ladies grow faint or turn green in the face; so of course pirates loved it and used it constantly. “Besides your money line has run rather dry as of late I'm afraid.”

 

Robbie MacGregor, also known as Robbie the Ruthless, also known as The Screaming Scotsman, also known as The Kestrel, also known by a slew of fake names and alias', snorted loudly. He pulled his satchel from his waist and set it on the counter in front of him. It didn't feel as heavy as he had remembered, nor did it jingle as loudly. He opened the clasp of the bag and peered inside tilting it away from the barkeep. A fly zipped out of it's cloth prison and circled Robbie`s head once before disappearing into the shadows of the bar. In the bag there was no money, only mariners objects. a compass, an astrolabe, a multitude of maps and charts. He could find his way from anywhere between Russia and Japan but he couldn't purchase a simple alcoholic beverage.

 

Robbie spent the next few minutes stewing over his problem. As he was thinking a man walked in and took a seat next to him. He was dark and swarthy, looked like a Greek, he thought, then he ordered a beer in perfect Spanish, but he talks like a Spaniard, interesting fellow this one.

 

The man asked him if he could buy him a drink. This offer tempted Robbie greatly, he considered accepting and spending a fine night swapping stories with this mysterious person, after all everyone has a story to tell. Some were better than others, but they were all stories nonetheless.

 

In the end, he thanked the man but declined. Some people went around their problems one way, Robbie preferred to solve them quite differently. He excused himself outside and picked up his pistols from by the windowsill where law decreed they must be kept, empty of ball and shot. He then loaded and primed them, before jamming one in his belt sash and gripping the other tightly in his hand.

 

He burst through the door leveling his pistol at the barkeep's head. The barkeep saw the weapon and immediately reached below the counter and pulled up a buckshot musket. This terrified Robbie. He had seen men who had been hit at close range by buckshot, they didn't live. He quickly leveled his pistol and aimed for the man's hands. A loud bang resounded and a enormous cloud of smoke was thrown up into the air.

 

When the smoke cleared the musket was on the ground and the barkeep had lost his index and middle fingers. Blood poured from his wound, much like the smooth rum did from the aged barrels at the back of the bar. Robbie stuffed his spent pistol into his sash and pulled out his second weapon. This gun he pointed directly at the stranger's chest.

 

“Pick that musket up and bring it over here if you could.” he said pulling the hammer back and gesturing at the discarded weapon.

 

“Why? What's going on here?” The swarthy man asked.

 

“Why, it's a robbery o'course!”

 

"A robbery!"

 

"O'course! This man wants me to pay him money that currently isn't on my being. So, logically, I'm left with no other choice but to reprieve him of his current stash of funds. Simple, you see?"

 

"No I don't! Can't I pay your tab for you? You don't have to do this, you know!" The man reached into his pocket for his money pouch. Before his hand left his pocket Robbie stopped him. Some people went around their problems one way, others quite another, he thought.

 

"Dinna do that! It ruin's my credibility, see? I cannae stand owing debts to people, hell that's part of the reason I robbing this man here. So while I can't take your money, I can take your life, which is why you'll want to hand me that musket." The man complied and handed him the weapon, Robbie grabbed it by the barrel and slung it over his shoulder in one smooth motion. "Now then, tell this man to open the chest were he hoards the currency that gets bestowed upon him, if you would." The barkeeper took the key out of his pocket and slid it across the wood floor, it stopped near the man's feet. "What's your name, sir?" Robbie asked him.

 

His brown eye's stared at Robbie for a moment before replying, "John Smith."

 

The pirate let out a hearty chuckle before becoming serious again. "Your real name please?"

 

A pause. Then finally, "Sideo Icarus."

 

"The Sideo Icarus? Incredible! What are the odds of... It's truly an honor to meet you! The name's Robbie MacGregor. Captain Robbie MacGregor if you would. I'd shake your hand but..." He emphasized his pistol hand ruefully. "I'll have to hear your story firsthand sometime. Now if you could open the chest and empty the contents into my satchel I would be most thankful." Sideo did as he was told removing a heavy bag of coins and a few key's along with the bar's deed and transferred them into the large cloth bag

 

"Well it was a pleasure to do business with you Reynold, but I really must be going. Captain Icarus, your free to go though I would appreciate it if you didn't reveal this event to the police. The Lord knows my record is long enough as it is. I truly hope we can meet again, though. Good day!" With that he stepped out into the afternoon light and walked off.

 

Captain Icarus. It had been such a long time since he had been called that. Far, far to long. Even bosun Icarus would be better than 'Icarus the drunk'. He ran out the door after the man who had held a gun to his chest just seconds earlier.

 

“Robbie!” he shouted, “Robbie!” The figure in the distance stopped and turned around, waiting. Sideo sprinted off to meet up with the man. He came to a halted in front of the puzzled pirate. Robbie reached into his sash and pulled out his pistol.

 

“You want me to shoot you then? Suit yourself...” He cocked the hammer back and leveled it at Sideo`s face. His face blanched and he quickly waved his hands in protest.

 

“No, no, no! I was going to ask whether your ship had an opening, preferably to the New World.” He sputtered still breathing heavily from his chase.

 

“ I might. Why do you ask?” The pirate's face narrowed in suspicion.

 

“I have certain... events I'd like to get away from. Far away from.”

 

“Don't we all mate, don't we all!” he said laughing. “Maybe, maybe, I might have an open spot. I could have already filled it though, I dinna remember. Come on, and walk in front of me please. If you try anything funny I'll put a bullet into the back of your head.” He waved his pistol for clarification. Sideo was elated he could get back to the sea, back to his natural footing, he decided if a few morals had to be sacrificed, so be it.