"I think I'll pass."
Colt's face fell at Jagger's response. He hadn't had much hope that his fellow cabin boy would follow him off the theoretical cliff, but he'd at least expected him to consider it.
Colt sat down in a hard and small wooden chair. "Come on, at least think about it some. We take out Rave together, then assume control as co-captains of the ship. We can do whatever we want, eat whatever we want, go wherever we want. Complete freedom and no more work. Doesn't that sound good to you?"
Jagger hadn't moved a muscle the whole time they'd been talking. He stood towering against the doorway, legs crossed idly. He didn't look scared at the prospect of taking on the captain, or even impressed at Colt's boldness. He just looked sorry for him.
"It seems like I've thought about it more than you have," he said eventually. "Taking out Captain Rave is no small feat. Not to mention the whole crew he has behind him. Have you considered them?"
"Of course I have," Colt said as he considered the rest of the crew for the first time. "They should follow me, if I best Rave in a fight. There are some, like Morgan, who will pose a problem, but the rest will stick to the Code."
Pirates were an untamed type of people, notorious for breaking all types of laws. But there was one law they didn't break, and that was their own. Pirates, no matter their origin, generally tended to stick to the Pirate Code. It was one of the only things that kept them from being totally driven to extinction by marines.
"Okay, so say your crazy plan works. You become Captain of the Bloody Manta. What then? Do you really think the captain of a ship is a job without any work required?"
Colt shrugged. "Sure it is. Rave doesn't do any work, he just has his crew do everything. I think it's time for Rave to be kicked off his throne, and I'm going to be the one to do it, with or without your help."
"Sorry, but it's going to be 'without' then. Even if it wasn't so crazy, I just don't see any benefit in it for myself. I have no interest in being captain of a ship. I just want my basic needs provided for, and I have a better chance of getting that now than I would if I overthrew the social order on the ship."
"That's all you want?" Colt questioned. "Just food, water, and shelter? You don't have any other goals in life?"
"Sure I do," Jagger gestured to the empty holster around his waist. "I want to become a good marksman. I want to get a gun at some point, and become good at using it. That's why I'm working so hard at getting promoted. I'll go from cleaning this ship to fighting for it."
Colt sighed. He realized that Jagger wasn't going to change his mind. He'd written the guy off as a mindless servant who did whatever anyone told him too, all while waiting for some good fortune to befall him. But it seemed he was in the process of making his own good fortune. Not unlike what Colt was trying to do.
"Okay," Colt relented. "It seems like you do have it all thought out."
Jagger nodded. "Like I said, I am sorry. And it's not that I'm against you. I won't try and stop you or even report your plans to the captain. I would suggest you think it through a little better, however. You have no weapon, no combat skills, and only a fraction of a plan. Sounds like a recipe for disaster to me."
"Maybe I don't have much of a plan, and maybe I can't fight. But I do have a weapon," Colt stood up, his wooden cutlass in hand, "and I'm going to use it."
Colt stepped forward and came face to face with Jagger at the doorway. Colt stared upward, into Jagger's eyes, in an attempt to show him how determined he was. Jagger stared back for a second, then smirked a little. He shrugged and moved to the side, unblocking the exit.
"Good luck," he said good-naturedly. He likely saw that he could change Colt's mind no more than Colt could change his. They were both set on their paths, and nothing either one of them could say to the other would change that.
"Thanks," Colt replied as he walked out of the room.
He set his jaw as he walked up to the main deck. His steps seemed to get slower as his heart rate got faster. Before long it felt as if he were carrying a hundred pound sack on his back. The wooden sword weighed at least a ton. His breaths came two at a time. He wondered if this was how a panic attack felt. Perhaps he was having a panic attack. After taking all his anger out on the sack of flour, he'd felt so calm and determined. Especially when talking to Jagger. It was like everything was laid out perfectly for him. Now that it was time to go through with it, he didn't feel so confident.
Was he really strong enough to face Captain Rave? Did he even stand a chance against him, all by himself? What if the crew stopped him before he could even fight the captain?
There were lots of uncertainties, but Colt tried to push them out of his mind as much as he could. Whatever happened would happen, and he'd face it when it did. Anything would be better than wasting more time as a cabin boy on the ship, he supposed.
With that in mind, Colt knocked on the door of the captain's quarters for the second time that day. His goal was the same as it had been the previous time, but now his means of achieving it were different. This time he knew that nothing was going to be handed to him. No one was going to do anything for him out of the kindness of their hearts. Whatever he wanted, he was going to have to take. And he planned to do just that.
Colt stood waiting. There had been no answer to his knock. Maybe Rave wasn't in his quarters. That would be pretty awkward. Or maybe the captain was just being lazy, which seemed like the more likely option. Colt wrapped on the wooden door again, harder this time.
"Go away!" called Rave's voice from inside. "I'm not opening that door, it's my alone time!"
Okay, Colt thought, so it was the second option.
Colt stepped back a little and took a deep breath. He leaned his neck to the right side, then the left, cracking his joints. Then he struck out quickly with his leg. The force of his foot shoved into the door, and it caved inwards. It flew off the hinges and fell to the floor with a loud crash.
In the following moment, a lot happened. Red-Head Rave jumped up from his chair, face red with a mixture of rage and surprise. The majority of the crew that heard the noise gathered around the quarters, surrounding Colt. And Colt stood still, his gaze not leaving the captain. His grip tightened on his wooden cutlass, as he prepared himself for the worst.
"Sir!"
Colt looked over his shoulder to see One-Eyed Morgan addressing Rave. The man's flintlock pistol was aimed steadily at Colt, and Colt knew that he would have no issue pulling it.
"What are your orders, Captain Rave, sir?" Morgan asked. "Shall we deal with this insubordinate?"
"Yes," Red-Head Rave replied, "but first..."
Captain Rave walked forward slowly, and stepped over the fallen door. He stood face to face with Colt, and Colt had to tip his head upwards in order to stare into his eyes.
"I am curious," he said, not moving his gaze from Colt's eyes. "What could possibly possess you to disobey an order and interrupt my silence?" He glanced down, making note of the cutlass. "With a weapon drawn, no less."
Colt steeled himself and tried as hard as he could to not look away. He wanted to show the captain he was determined and purposeful in his actions, not just a kid acting up.
"I'm here to beat you in combat," Colt replied, "and assume control of this ship."
Captain Rave chuckled and stepped back a little. "You're either stupid or... no, you're just plain stupid. That's the second time today you've made me laugh, boy. That doesn't happen very frequently."
"I can tell. That's probably why your face is all wrinkly."
The crew around Colt surged forward to attack, but Rave held up a hand. The captain was visibly fuming, but was managing to keep control of his anger. Colt didn't know that was even possible for him.
"It's very clear you have a death wish, boy. And don't worry, it will be granted soon enough." Rave focused his attention on the rest of the crew. "Stand back and drop your weapons, all of you!"
The crew hesitated. One-Eyed Morgan stepped up. "But sir—"
"NOW!"
Morgan scrambled backwards and his flintlock hit the deck of the ship. The rest of the crew followed shortly and then it was just Colt and Rave, head to head.
Captain Rave looked back at Colt. "I could have you shot right here. Or perhaps throw you off the side of the ship. But that wouldn't be very fun, now would it? And since you've so rudely interrupted my alone time, I haven't had my entertainment for the day. You see, I am a shark on these seas, and you're just a kid. So, I will give you the battle you want. I'll destroy you quickly and flawlessly, and have some fun while also teaching the rest of the crew a valuable lesson. No one... no one crosses Captain Rave!"
"Somebody just did," Colt said. "So are we going to fight, or are you going to talk my ear off before we get the chance?"
"I'm waiting on you. Unless you want to bail, of course."
"Oh, don't worry about that. You're not getting off that easily."
And with that, Colt struck. He lunged forward, cutlass in hand, and made a wide slashing motion toward Captain Rave. He wondered, for a moment, if maybe he actually had a shot. Maybe he'd actually be able to turn things around for himself.
That moment was fleeting. Captain Rave stepped to the side masterfully and ducked under the arc of Colt's sword. Colt couldn't stop his momentum in time, and Rave shoved his spare hand into Colt's back as he passed. The lack of control plus the force of the shove caused Colt to fall, face-first, into the deck.
Colt groaned as he turned himself over. He noticed that Captain Rave was standing over him, looking almost disappointed.
"I didn't expect much more," boomed the captain. "But I did hope to see at least some resolve in you, cabin boy."
"My name is Colt," he said as he picked himself up off the deck of the ship, "and we're not finished just yet."
Colt attacked again, but this time tried a different method. Instead of lunging with the cutlass, he kept his feet in place and used his arm strength to swing the wood sword. Rave noticed this, and acknowledged it by altering his defense accordingly. Rather than dodge the blow, the captain this time grabbed his own cutlass from his belt in a swift motion. He brought it up and it connected with Colt's weapon in a sharp clang noise.
Colt pressed against Rave's sword as hard as he could, but the captain's sword wasn't budging. Though it looked like Red-Head Rave was putting forth no effort at all, Colt couldn't outpower him, even when using all of his own feeble strength.
Overpowering him wasn't going to work, so Colt brought his sword around for another strike. This time Rave was too quick for him. Before Colt could even swing his cutlass, Rave struck quickly. The hilt of his sword hit the hilt of Colt's sword, and Colt's cutlass flew out of his hand. Now disarmed, there was nothing he could do as Red-Head Rave placed a kick right square in his chest. Colt flew backward and hit the deck again, this time on his back.
Captain Rave stepped forward and brought the tip of his cutlass to Colt's neck. "What did you think you were going to accomplish with a wood sword and no skills, cabin boy? It's not even worth the effort to kill you."
Rave stared at Colt for a moment, then slashed out with his sword. The blade slit along his lower chest area, and Colt felt the pain immediately. His shirt ripped diagonally with the blade, and blood instantly started to swell. His eyes started to water and he looked up and Rave, who had sheathed his sword.
"There," said the captain. "That should do it. Now, help him up."
Two men surged forward from the crowd and grabbed Colt's shoulders. One man was skinny and looked like he had all bone and no muscle. The other looked to have all muscle, and was missing several teeth. They hoisted Colt up, not very carefully, and faced the captain.
"Whadda we do with 'im, sir?" asked one of the men.
"Help him walk the plank," decided the captain. "Maybe we can put him to some use, and give the sharks a nice meal."
The thought of this seemed to excite the majority of the crew, but it didn't seem like such fun to Colt. He was about to suggest another option to the captain, but he couldn't seem to open his mouth. Even if he could, he doubted any sound would come out. He was in too much pain to formulate his thoughts into actual words.
Colt felt himself being helped over to the side of the ship. He was guided very forcefully onto a wooden beam that he knew to be "the plank." His vision was swimming, but he knew that the open ocean was mere steps away. He was about to face his demise.
"Do it."
Colt heard Captain Rave give the order behind him, and he felt himself being pushed forward. But then a voice spoke out, and the two men grabbed control of Colt again.
"Wait!"
Colt was jerked back onto the ship as the familiar voice spoke. He took a moment to breath, hard and shakily. He knew he had just come extremely close to death, and that he still wasn't too very far from it.
"What is it now?" he heard the captain say.
"Don't you think we should put weights on him?" asked One-Eyed Morgan, who evidently did not have the thought of saving Colt on his mind. "That way there's no chance he survives?"
"You saw his wound," Rave barked back. "He won't survive either way. But to be sure, I suppose you're right. Someone! Fetch the weights!"
Colt knew what was about to happen, as he'd seen it happen before. They were going to attach weights onto him, to ensure that he sank to the bottom and drowned. They were going to minimize his chances of survival from "practically impossible" to, well, "impossible."
Colt couldn't let that happen, and so he sprung into action before he even fully knew what he was doing. He elbowed the first man holding on to him in the stomach. As that man reeled back in surprise, Colt spun around and slugged the second man in the face. With both of them off of him, he then turned back to the side of the ship, ran along the plank, and leapt into the ocean.
Colt hit the water and was instantly submerged. He tried to rise back to the surface, but it was more difficult than he'd expected. He suddenly realized that the wound in his chest was worse than he initially thought. He couldn't summon the power needed to rise to the top of the water, and he was slowly beginning to drown.