Boy afloat

"Aye, what is that?" A green eye peered through the decaying telescope, spotting a pure white lad, floating on a piece of drift wood. Pirate Matt plummeted from his lookout perch and swung from the rough textured ropes like an old monkey would dangle from tree to tree. His flouncy feather hat on top of his rust-colored hair bounced and bobbed as he jogged to the Captain's quarters.

"Captain, I have spotted something!"He rapped his knuckles against the splintery wood shaped into a door.

The door swung open on rackety hinges, and the tall blonde man stepped out, hands behind his back in a comfortable, smooth fashion, as if he owned the world. He peered at his favorite crew member. "What have you spotted, Matt?"

"See for yourself, Captain Mello." A long gloved hand extended, and the oxidized telescope was placed in his hands, rich leathered fingers wrapped around the barrel and a piercing blue eye gazed through the small hole.

What those eyes peered upon, was a beautiful boy, delicate white tendrils framed a tender face. This face became something, the Captain wanted. And what the Captain desired, he shall have.

"I see." He muttered, "Bring him in!" He called to the rest of his crew, authority grasping his words, "Make sure he is alive and see to it that he is bathed and well-dressed. Bring him to me when you are finished." With that said, he turned and retreated back into his quarters.

--

Near awoke to stare into weathered faces of sneering men, tan wrinkled skin seem parched, as if only kissed by the sun and never drank water. Missing teeth, lazy eyes, they looked horrid and old. These were the type of men, mother always warned him about, Pirates, sea dogs, rovers, freebooters, thugs. Evil men who killed his father and taken his sister's virtue. Near knew, that he should not be in the company of these foul men.

"Aye, he's awake." One of them rasped, "Go clean him up, and dress him, bring him to the boss when you're done." His breath reeked of stale alcohol and cigars.

Within a matter of minutes, Near was adorning a long white sleeved shirt, lace spilling over the cuffs and tickling his hands, a lace ruff flared against his delicate neck, white baggy pants stuffed inside creamy leather boots that raced up his calf. Never an outfit he would have chosen, Near wanted off this crazy boat, but nevertheless he followed a man whom didn't resemble a pirate in any way.

This man had no callused features of a usual pirate, though he adorned clothes that held pirate fashion. Striped rags clung to his muscular tanned frame, red and black stripes bringing out the dark red hue of his hair, polished boots hit the wooden deck in sharp thuds, leading right to a timbered door.

"The Captain wishes to dine with you, give him your full respect, and…" He stepped closer, green eyes glancing around worriedly, "Don't stare at his scar."

Just a scar? Near thought, No matter, many people have scars. But the real thought pulsing through his head, was, 'Just take me home, just take me home.' And by the looks of where he was, there was plenty of doubt he'd ever have a guarantee to his wish.