With only a handful of shillings left in my pocket, I take a stroll. What have I left to lose?

The sound of freshly shoed horses echos through the alleyways. I make my way to the pub downtown. I might as well pick up an ale with the last of my earnings. I enter the pub from a door in the back. Years of piracy lead to a keen sense remaining in the shadows. I make my way through the back of the brewery, a few drunkards lay asleep against old oak barrels. The fruity aroma fills my nostrils. I inhale… time for a drink! I step over the drunkards and walk through the wooden swinging doors leading to the back side of the bar. I glance to my right, stools lined beneath the dirty bar. To my left, tables full of old sailors drinking their sorrows away. They’re not too keen of my kind of people. Though, I’m not much of a pirate without a ship. I’ve settled with the fact that I, too, will be an old drunken sailor drinking my sorrows away. Longing for the past, dreading the future.

I tighten up my tattered cloak a bit, hiding the stories of the sea inked across my body. I walk towards the bar, scanning the room for escape routes. They change from night to night, depending on which exits are blocked by sleeping drunks. I’ve tripped over a few since being washed up here. I’ve also been tripped over a few times… I grin, laughing in my head at my own self deprecating quip.

I toss the last of my shillings onto the bar. The sound of silver hitting the wooden bar was enough to grab the attention of the bartender. She made her way to my end of the bar. This is a new face. A much nicer looking one than the brute normally working here.

“You gonna tell me what you want or stare at me like I got somethin in my teeth?”

She’s spicy.

“Pour me whatever THOSE guys had”. I point towards the wooden swinging doors at the slumbering men in the back. I can see her struggle to stop the grin from taking over her once furrowed brow. “You ain’t got enough shillings for that, pirate”. She grabbed a wooden stein from beneath the bar. She fills it with beer from the tap and slams it onto the bar in front of me, drawing attention from sailors at the tables to my right. How did she know I was a pirate? One of the sailors approach me from behind, gripping my shoulders tight. “There a problem over here, doll?” He squeezes my shoulders tighter. “No thank you hun, now go sit down and behave yourself”. He loosens his grip, grabs the beer from my hand, and walks slowly back to the tables. He turns and mutters “Put it on his tab” and plants himself back in his chair like a barnacle on the hull.

I cast my gaze back towards the bartender. She’s got one arm on her hip and the other against the edge of the bar. She’s no longer fighting the grin as she chuckles a little and turns to walk back into the shadows of the dirty bar. “I guess that’s a no on the beer?”, I muttered in her direction. It catches her attention, she whips her head around, takes a few fast and heavy steps in my direction. She grabs a cloth and slams it on the bar right in front of me, wiping away the grime left from years worth of spilled beer.

“You’re a brave pirate comin into a bar like this.”

“You’re a brave bartender to stand her talking to someone you assume to be a pirate.”

Her grin returns. She tosses the wet rag into a bucket of water just to her left.

“I see your kind around here every now and again. I ain’t got to assume.”

I straighten up my jacket a little, now self conscious of what gave me away.

A stein flies past my head and smashes against the wall.

I don’t stick around for anymore drunken talks with sailors.

I make my way out of the pub the same way I entered and no hangover to show for it. I walk down the alleyway, hands in my now-empty pockets. No ship, no shillings, no grog.

I make my way towards the only place I’ve called home. The sea. Though, alleyways have been my home a few weeks now. The smell of wet straw and wood smoke overwhelm my senses. Not a smell I’m used to. It’s quite repulsive, as I prefer the smell of saltwater and rum. The moon lights the way, as it did when I was at sea. I hear the ocean lapping against the hull of ships docked nearby.

I stand at the end of the pier, staring into the endless waters of the place that once rocked me to sleep every night. Much like a mother, her waves sing lullabies that lull even the hardest of pirates into a deep sleep. I take in a deep breath.

“PIRATE!”, I hear a familiar whispering voice.