My land legs were never that kind to me. I wasn’t born on land, but rather, on a merchant ship. I learned to walk aboard sea roving vessels, mighty with the whipping wind. The smell of salt and rum became home. The barnacles and cannons became comfort. I knew from the moment I could think for myself…that I wanted to be on the sea until I died. So the land was a simple inconvenience to my lifestyle. I needed to make port in order to live on the ocean; a double edged sword, really.
As I stepped onto the wooden dock, I simply stood quietly. My balance was off kilter but I managed to get it under control. Walking towards the bustling port town, I bumped shoulders with many lowly men. That should be an honor in itself for them. I may have been born on a merchant ship but I was no merchant. Nay. I was a pirate.
The life of a pirate was thrilling and daring! My heart would always race when I came up against a foe. The sounds of cannon fire and the smell of gunpowder would transport me into my own paradise. Call it morbid, but it was the way I chose to live. I pillaged, plundered, cheated, and took every single thing I could without giving any of it back. Women loved me, men hated me; the way it should be! Life was good and I was still young. Many years of pirating were ahead of me. I looked forward to every single one.
By Chai Vee
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