Docks haunted by pirates are rarely peaceful, even in good weather. 

The pirates' festivities and brawls can be heard at all hours on ship or shore. These corners of filth and unrestrained human nature crawl with bandits and marauders who have lost the ability to function without liquor. I have served these men and know this to be true. 

But one night, a clear spring night, the docks were still. The taverns were deserted, and their doors were barred. The ships in the harbor floated peacefully. 

I examined the silent ships one by one. The quiet made me uneasy. I was used to being lulled to sleep by the sounds of drunken sea parties and bar fights. The ships that struck fear into the hearts of other vessels gave off a strange beauty in the moonlight. Cannons glinted, and I wondered what havoc they had wrought. 

As I reached the end of the dock, I noticed something different about the last ship. Its sails were white, like the other ships. Its cannons were neatly polished and arranged in a row. A watchman sat in the crow’s nest, his neckerchief stirring by the breeze. But that wasn't what caught my eye. I saw that the lights in the captain’s quarters were unlit. No captain goes to bed at such an early hour. I pondered this and checked the name of the ship: Caterina. 

The Caterina was rumored to have been the site of so much bloodshed that her decks were permanently stained with blood. The captain didn’t drink, but he kept his blade sharp and his wits sharper. He was cunning and distant, but he had made a grave error and paid the price for it. 

Convincing myself that I was brave, I continued past the docks and into the jungle that lay just outside the town. I hoped to find the captain of the Caterina and discover what had happened to him. I forged my way through the underbrush. The moonlight only pierced through the thick canopy of trees every few yards. I picked up a stick and tapped my way through the inky jungle. 

I eventually stumbled upon a wide clearing. A man sat on a large rock in the middle of the clearing. The starlight made his black hair shine. He sat numbly on the boulder, watching the light play on his hands. Before I could blink there was a flash of moonlight on metal and a loud bang. A bullet lodged itself into the tree right next to my head.  

I was so startled by the gunshot that I fell out into the open, catching myself with my hands. The man tossed the pistol to the ground, muttering in French. 

I rose to my knees and froze. Being a poor tavern boy, I had no idea what the man was saying. “Sir?” I asked cautiously. 

The man chortled. “Un Britannique! Even better,” he said sarcastically. 

I took the man’s change to English to be a good sign and slowly rose to my feet. “I don’t mean any harm, sir. I was just looking for-” 

“Let me guess, you’re looking for the great Hugues Justice, captain of the Caterina. The most shunned pirate from Spain to the islands,” the man finished. “Well, you have found him, alone with the moon.” 

I nodded, a wave of fear crushing me. 

“Tell me, what does a tavern boy want to find a pariah for?” 

I had no idea what a pariah was, but I decided it didn’t matter. “You dropped this during the fight last night,” I said, fishing something out of my pocket. I held out a slender gold watch. “It looked fancy, so I saved it.” 

There was an odd expression on Captain Justice’s face. “Bring it to me,” he said quietly. 

I came forward and placed it in the pirate's outstretched hand. The captain caressed it gently, then tucked it into his coat. "Merci," he said softly. He looked at me closely. "That watch is worth a pretty sum of money, garçon. Why did you not sell it?" 

The reply burned on my tongue. "Because I would know your story, Captain." 

"It is the same as every pirate's story. I was a law-abiding sailor, but a doleful king and an empty pocket drove me away. Thus, I have stalked the seas, attacking and pillaging and killing so that I might live my short days in comfort." 

The captain stood, straightening his jacket. I resisted the urge to step back. "No sir, I beg your pardon. Your watch says..." 

"I know what it says!" Justice snapped. "A capitaine is entitled to his secrets, no? Am I so ruined that a tavern boy is bold enough to demand words from me? I could shoot you between the eyes, leave you for the panthers and only mourn my wasted bullet.” 

I drew myself up as tall as I could. “My father was a pirate, sir. And I remember the day he lost his own ship.” 

All of the fire seemed to go out of the captain's eyes when I mentioned my father. He sat down stiffly on the grass. He wasn’t a physically threatening man. He was only a little taller than me and just as broad. His eyes reflected the sea. Neither the blue of the tropics, nor the icy green of crab waters, but the bottomless blue-black of the deepest ocean. He was tanned, like every seaman, and favored the loose-fitting shirts and tight breeches that made barmaids swoon. Scars peeped out behind his open vest. 

He clutched the watch in his hands. He was muttering in French again, seeming to have forgotten about me. I did my best not to pity him, but it was impossible. A pirate captain without a ship is like a beggar boy: empty and desperate. 

“Were you there, garçon, to see those spineless maggots unman me in front of the whole wharf?” the pirate asked me. 

I recalled the "spineless maggots" all too well.  

“They didn’t even give me a pirate’s death,” Justice said bitterly. “No chance to die defending my ship. One by one, they denounced me and the crowd jeered as they dragged me off of my ship.” 

He is broken, I realized. Whether he could be made whole again was a question could not answer. 

Then, I did something odd and surprising. I sat down next to the captain on the worn grass and pulled my knees to my chest. He didn’t react, so I remained seated. The sea breeze tousled our hair and the stars glittered in the heavens. Sitting with the captain like that reminded me of my father. I strove to remember him before his ship was taken from him, much like Justice's had been. All that came were the lines of his favorite shanty, and I began to sing softly: 

“Come, loose every sail to the breeze 

The course of my vessel improve 

I’m done with the toils of the seas 

Ye sailors, I’m bound to my love.” 

I hesitated, unsure of the next verse, when the captain joined in. 

“Since Emma’s true as she’s fair 

My griefs I fling to the wind 

‘Tis a pleasing return for my care 

My mistress is constant and kind.” 

I found my tongue in time for the last verse. 

“Then hoist every sail to the breeze 

Come, shipmates, and join in the song 

Let’s drink while the ship cuts the seas 

To the gale that may drive her along.” 

My father had called my mother Emma, even though her name was Rachel. Even after that cruel day, he would gently squeeze her hand and whisper, “My Emma’s true as she is fair.” 

I wondered if Justice had an Emma of his own. Maybe a barmaid or dancer in one of the dozens of taverns that dotted the islands. 

Justice chortled quietly. “It’s funny, you know,” he said, rubbing his pistol with his thumb, “the pirate in the song swears to give up his sailing for his woman. But in the end, he succumbs to the call of the sea, like every pirate does.” 

I pondered this for a moment. “But you didn’t,” I said, almost to myself. 

Justice sighed bitterly. “Away with you,” he said, waving me away with his gun. “I have no patience for you or my conscience.” 

I left him, still sitting in the grass by that old boulder.