Captain Skippy was not a man who took things lightly. In the Kill-Devil tavern, located in the port of Kayona —known for its strong rum and even tougher clientele— he was conducting his search for new members to join his crew. Ships didn't sail themselves, and gold didn't fall from the sky; he needed hands on deck, not scholars or chatterboxes.
Fortunately, he had Mr. Paine by his side, his secretary, who hated being in the tropics and fanned himself constantly while wiping sweat from his brow, and the boatswain Trumper, a man of few words and quick fists. The plan was simple: recruit and set sail.
After reviewing and rejecting several candidates, a trio of youngsters stepped forward: a tall, lanky blond boy, a Black youth, and a light-skinned mulatto with striking blue eyes that caught the captain's attention for their unusual color. They were Cody, Kayin, and Sammy, presenting themselves for recruitment.
The first two stepped forward to be assessed. Mr. Trumper looked them over from head to toe; Cody smiled nervously.
"What's your name and where are you from?" Trumper asked.
"I'm Cody Harris, from Tiburón Bay, Black Island."
Trumper nodded and continued.
"Can you climb the rigging without breaking your neck?"
Cody cleared his throat, a bit anxious.
"Sure, I've got plenty of experience with that."
The boatswain stared him down.
"Ever fired a musket or a pistol? Ever hit anything? Got any experience with a sword or cutlass?"
"Yes, I've had some hand-to-hand fights… and I've crossed swords," Cody replied confidently.
"What would you do if the captain ordered you to attack a ship three times our size?"
Cody gave a nervous smile.
"I'd charge with courage… if ordered to do so."
"Are you afraid of the gallows?" Trumper asked.
The boy swallowed and took a deep breath.
"I understand the risks of this job."
"And what if you're promised gold but never paid?" Mr. Paine cut in.
Cody opened his mouth but glanced at his friends, who frowned. Then he answered:
"If I'm promised gold, I'll earn it through hard work and expect to be paid properly. But if someone steals what's mine, I won't rest until I get it back… in gold or in blood, sir."
Boatswain Trumper let out a dry chuckle, slamming the table with his fist.
"I like that!" he growled. "He's got fire in his gut and he's no fool."
Captain Skippy, who had been toying with a coin between his fingers, looked over at the boatswain and nodded.
"Then, lad," said Trumper with a crooked grin, "if that's how you think, maybe there's a place for you on the Garnor. Go sign the log with Paine," he ordered, pointing to the grumpy purser who reluctantly scribbled in the account book. "But remember: on my ship, those who break their word find the bottom of the sea... Welcome to the life of free men. We sail at sunset."
"Just one warning," added Mr. Paine. "Once aboard, you won't be able to break the contract for a year."
"The contract kicks in once we step on deck?" Cody asked.
"Correct."
Next up was Kayin, who stood tall with a determined look.
"Name and origin?" asked Mr. Trumper.
"I'm Kayin King, from Kingsport."
Trumper looked him up and down, then into his eyes.
"Show me your hands."
Kayin showed them. They were relatively smooth; the calluses were recent — marks from work aboard a merchant ship.
"You've got hands as soft as a woman who plays the harp. What did you do?" asked Mr. Trumper.
Kayin, undaunted, replied:
"I was a servant in a brothel in Kingsport, sir."
Mr. Trumper glanced sideways at Mr. Paine and then at the captain, who kept feigning indifference, spinning the coin between his fingers.
"Are you a freedman?, " the boatswain asked.
"I was a slave, sir, but I escaped. That's why I want to join the Garnor's crew. I'm not afraid of hard work, danger, or the gallows. Any place and condition is better than being someone's property," he added quickly before Trumper could speak.
A slight nod from the captain confirmed his acceptance.
Finally, it was Sammy's turn. She appeared dressed as a boy: tall boots, vest, a loose shirt, and a worn-out tricorn.
"Name?" asked Mr. Trumper.
"I'm Sam Worthy," Sammy replied, trying to lower her voice. "I'm not afraid of hard labor, climbing rigging, or getting into a fight, sir."
Trumper stared at her, then glanced at the captain, who shook his head.
"Anything else you can offer?, " asked the boatswain.
The girl cleared her throat and, gaining confidence, said:
"Well… I can read and write, I understand nautical charts, and I speak Latin, French, Spanish, Dutch, and Italian."
Mr. Paine, still fanning himself in the tropical heat, looked at her with interest.
"Sounds promising," he remarked.
"We don't need scholars aboard," Trumper grunted. "We need strong hands to haul ropes, climb rigging, and fight when needed."
Mr. Paine looked to the captain, who was slouched in his seat, flipping the coin between his fingers. Feeling Trumper and Paine's gaze, he simply shook his head.
"Sorry, lad. Go to the Sorbonne or some Jesuit college in Mexico City… Any more candidates?" Trumper asked.
Paine looked toward where a line of applicants should have been, but saw only a drunk swaying with a mug in hand.
"That's all," he said, glancing at the captain. "And I think we've nearly spent the crew's budget on these ones."
The captain nodded and ended the session. However, Sammy refused to leave.
"Excuse me, captain. I know I can be useful. Let me prove myself for three months and I won't disappoint you. As I said, I speak several languages, I can read and write —which many sailors can't—, I can fight, and I'm agile on the rigging," said Sammy in a passionate tone.
The captain rose slowly and looked at her.
"I admire your boldness," he began, "but as Mr. Trumper said, we don't need scholastics on board. I need people who can work, handle weapons, and defend themselves with a sword."
Sammy, keeping her gaze steady and her pride intact, insisted:
"I can do all that. I'll even duel your boatswain if you want!"
The remark sparked laughter across the tavern — all except the captain, who barely smirked, while Cody and Kayin exchanged glances.
"Is she serious?" whispered Kayin.
"No, but she believes it," Cody replied.
The atmosphere grew tense. The entire tavern waited for the outcome; some even started taking bets. Trumper looked at the captain. Sammy held her breath, as did her friends. Even the serving girls paused to see what would happen. Captain Skippy looked at her and simply said:
"No."
A collective "aww" echoed through the room. Some pirates and sailors gave Sammy a few consoling pats, and everyone went back to their business. The captain stood up from his chair, followed by Mr. Paine and the boatswain. Skippy turned to Trumper and tossed him the coin he'd been toying with. Trumper caught it mid-air and paused briefly in front of Sammy.
"Sorry, lad, but I admire your courage," said the boatswain as he handed her the coin. "At least buy yourself a beer… On the Captain."
With that, he walked away. Disappointed, Sammy rejoined Cody and Kayin. The three of them decided to leave and headed toward the docks, where they sat on some crates watching the constant comings and goings of merchant and pirate ships.
"It was a good try," said Cody.
"Yeah, you were convincing," added Kayin. "About that duel with the pirate... were you serious?"
Sammy, not in the mood for jokes, stayed silent.
"Are you two still planning to board?" she finally asked.
The boys exchanged looks.
"I made a deal with you," said Kayin. "I'll stay by your side, if you want me to."
Cody cleared his throat.
"Since the contract doesn't start until we step on deck, I'll stay on land... Besides, it'd be too boring without you."
With the ships in view, beneath the clamor of the port and the cries of the seagulls, they began to draft a new plan. They needed money, but the road ahead looked tough. Cody suggested working as dockhands, while Kayin, ever the optimist, proposed offering harpsichord lessons. Sammy and Cody burst out laughing.
"You're confusing this with Caracas, Lima, or Mexico City," said Sammy. "You're in a pirate enclave... who plays that here?"
"I was just saying… maybe I could run a small shop instead, " Kayin replied.
"Well, that's an option," Cody said.
They sat for a while, until Sammy slammed the crate in frustration.
"I'm sick of this. We're going nowhere... Let's at least go get something to eat with the coin that oaf gave me," she proposed.
They decided to head to a shack built from shipwreck remnants. A sign at the entrance read: The Devil's Skillet.