Learning the ropes (VulcanSpock)

[Nekomimi_Aiden]

Fisk had only been on board the Black Pearl for three weeks now (or was it four?) and he was already missing being on land. Truth be told, he didn't hate living at sea, per se. He just didn't want to be on this particular ship and at this particular time.

Fisk was young, roughly 15 years old, give or take a few months; given that he's never spent any great length of time out at sea before, under the hot sun, Fisk had a fair complexion, light blond scruffy hair, a lean physique, light blue eyes and a boyish face. Fisk was dressed in plain clothes; dark muted colours: knee-length trousers, a white cotton shirt with long sleeves, a loose collar and tight wrist-cuffs; no shoes, because shoes just got in the way for him; a dark brown vest over his shirt, and a single piece of jewelry, a leather cord necklace with a scrimshaw pendant.

For the past few years he'd been working at Tortuga's The Unfaithful Bride inn. Tavern, more like it, given the number of drunkards that constantly stumbled in and out of the building. Fisk had worked as a tavern boy, handing out mugs of various alcohol, none of which he ever got the nerve to try, himself. Well, there was that one time..

Anyway. There came a point where he wanted more out of his life, and while it wasn't miserable, he felt fenced in. There was bound to be more to life than serving drinks and plates of hot food to adult men and women. Wasn't there? Or were the countless stories just fantasy? He was privy to al sorts of information, that was openly shared amongst the tavern patrons. He couldn't be caught for eavesdropping.. that much he hoped. The stories he heard were of adventure, and his interest grew, he needed to hear more, but eventually, he wanted to experience it for himself.

And so perhaps it was a coincidence, or maybe it was sheer dumb luck, or something else entirely- but the Black Pearl came into port, and within three days Fisk found himself as a member of the crew; the Black Pearl's new cabin boy.

But it wasn't what he expected.

The hours were long, longer than his work at the tavern. On a ship, he was expected to be on call, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It was testing his endurance- ad patience. Fisk understood the basics of his role, but did he have to like it? Not really. The boy was never quick enough to answer to a higher ship mate, it seemed. Or he was never in the right place at the right time. Or he tied a rope poorly, or he wasn't attentive enough in the galley, or... the list was endless, just about, but he was trying to do his best.

Presently, he was in the galley, taking up space. The ship's cook was absent, and that suited Fisk just fine. He'd gone without a decent meal all day, and he figured now was a good time to scrounge up something better than a piece of fruit-- not that were was much to be found. It was strange, because, well.. the entire crew were undead. How could Fisk not notice that, when night fell?

He didn't much like the grisly appearances, but he couldn't do much about his situation, lest he wanted to swim back to port. Even so, the galley was always stocked with food. Seeing as no one else on board was capable of eating the food, Fisk gathered it was a waste to let good food spoil. Therefore, no one would mind if he helped himself to the freshly-cooked stock. None of the other crew members needed to know; and Captain Barbossa certainly didn't need to find out about this.

Fisk ended up filling a small satchel with a decent-sized piece of salted (cooked) pork, a piece of fruit whose name he wasn't sure of, and a few pieces of hard biscuits. It wasn't easy, but he found for himself an isolated area of the first deck, below the main deck, and wedged himself in the middle of a few barrels. Privacy was non-existent on a ship.. if you didn't know where to find the best hiding spots.

Or so he thought.

[KingCrowley]

Finally shot of Jack Sparrow - the medalling Pirate brat whom He'd been at loggerheads with for many years now, Hector Barbossa felt like he could finally relax and explore the seas how she was meant to be explored, ruthlessly. But his crew was sparse, many had gone off sulking about having rid of Jack. Most of all, he needed a new cabin boy. Nothing special, just some brat who knew the basics of a Cabin boy's duties. "Aye, we'll make port fer Tortuga lads!" he called out, gaining a roar of enthusiasm from the crew left.

Upon arrival in Tortuga, Hector and his men immediately swarmed the local taverns and whore houses, it happened to be a stroke of luck...(?) that Barbossa came across a strapping young boy working in the tavern. He persuaded him to join the Black Pearl and that was that. Had Hector known how useless the lad was, he wouldn't have bothered.

He was efficient when he knew what he was doing, and for that reason, Barbossa decided to be a little bit patient with him, still though, he was quick to take him over the knee and tan his worthless hide when needed. Hector would never admit it, but somehow the lad had earned himself a soft spot within the old Captain.

"Pintel, ye aint seen me cabin brat, 'ave ye?" Barbossa asked, striding over to the man and giving him a look that demanded an immediate answer.

"C-Can't say I-I 'ave, Cap'n." he replied, a little bit nervously but then Ragetti decided to speak up, having seen Fisk head down to the galley's.

"I-I...s-saw 'im...I...I fink....he w-was in the G-G-G"

"Spit it out fer god sake!" Barbossa snapped.

"In the galley sir!" he answered quickly, "Seemed awful suspicious like..."

Barbossa frowned and rolled his eyes before storming off into the galley in time to see the boy take a few food items and then hide away to eat them. Stealing? The lad was stealing? Oh no, this was not going to happen on his ship. "Care te explain te me why yer thievin' off me ship?" he asked casually though his blue eyes held promise of a world of hurt as he glared down at the cabin boy.

[Nekomimi_Aiden]

If Fisk had known he'd be considered useless on board the Pearl, then he'd have never signed up to join the crew. However, it wasn't clear to him as to what happened.. did Fisk join, of his own free will, or had he been press-ganged? It made no difference now that he was on board, because there was no backing out, regardless if he had sought out to join the crew or he had been persuaded.

He should have known what would happen, the consequences of being caught stealing from the ship's stores. But he was hungry, blast it. He wasn't thinking straight; all he cared about was finding food, and then a quiet place to eat said food. The last thing he wanted (besides being caught) was to eat in peace, not to take one bite before being called for some mundane task or errand.

The boy was barely taken more than three bites of the pork when he heard familiar footsteps approaching his direction. Oh, no. Using his feet, Fisk pushed himself backwards and further in between the barrels, hoping that whoever was here, they'd walk past, not notice him. As it turned out, it was wishful thinking.

Fisk blinked up at the captain, the meat in one hand, held at chest-level. A million and one things ran through his mind, but all he could say was..

"... I was hungry."

He sounded stupid, and he would have kicked himself if he were in the right position to do so. The cabin boy drew further into his hiding spot, though it was as much a hiding spot as he was a princess. It was a mistake to have taken anything from the galley, even if he'd stolen one piece of fruit, or a biscuit. It wasn't how his mind worked, or that of any young boy you could find.

Fiske glanced to his meal, guilt evident in his expression, then his gaze flicked back up to Barbossa, though the boy couldn't meet the man's gaze for more than a few seconds. "It- it won't happen again, Captain- I wasn't thinkin'! I hadn't had anything for hours, and.." Well, it might not be helping his situation, but what else could he say, true or not? Fisk could guess what was happen next, and he wanted to avoid it for as long as he could. He could feel his heart beating fast, hear the blood rushing in his ears, and yet.. at the same time, there was dead silence on this deck, save for the constant creaking of wood as the ship rolled on the waves.

[KingCrowley]

Barbossa was livid that Fisk had decided to steal from the galley's, why if it had been one of the older members of his crew, he'd have them flogged or thrown in the brig. But he had to remember that Fisk was just a lad, so Barbossa was a tad more lenient with him. That didn't mean he wasn't going to show him serious pain, because he was, he deserved to be punished and his punishment was going to be unpleasant. He wouldn't be sitting comfortably for a good while, at least that would keep him on his feet if he should so happen to become lazy.

The old Captain stood, arms folded as he glared down at the boy, rolling his eyes when he said that he had been hungry. He didn't say anything, letting the silence and suspense of the moment chill the lad's bones, and he was about to speak but the brat decided to try and save his hide. Bad idea. "Then ye ask one o' the crew fer food. Ye do not steal." He answered, voice chillingly calm. That was never a good sign. "I should 'ave ye flogged lad." he said, wanting to strike some fear into him, no doubt he'd seen the other crew members get whipped before.

"But ye know the punishments ye get." Barbossa snarled, reaching down and roughly hauling the boy onto his feet by the scruff of his shirt, not caring to be gentle with him. He then dragged him out through the galley and to his own quarters where he'd taken to punishing the boy when needed. Once they were alone in the quarters, Hector released him, knowing the boy had enough sense not to make a run for it.

His hands went to his waist, and he unbuckled his sturdy black leather belt. Quickly he slid It from his hips and then seated himself. "Come 'ere ye brat, 'n remove ye britches." he ordered, eyes hard and steely. He doubled over the wicked belt in his hands and waited for Fisk to obey him.

[Nekomimi_Aiden]

All things considered, Fisk knew that his upcoming punishment could have been worse. He didn't agree with floggings; he found them to be far too cruel for any wrongdoing, lest someone tried to, say, knife another shipmate in the back. Fisk hadn't done anything like that. He'd stolen food, and though it was a mistake, he couldn't help but tell himself that it wasn't that terrible a crime. No one on this ship had any need of food; why should Fisk have to starve, too? And why did he need to seek permission for food in the first place?

Fisk tried to keep a poker face when his Captain made that comment. Permission- really? He found it absurd, but he wouldn't dare to say that to Barbossa, much less anyone else. You couldn't hope to trust nearly anyone on board a ship, and even if you could share a secret or a story with someone, you could wager that the whole crew were hear about it, sooner or later.

Did Fisk really need to be given a hiding for his theft? The boy wanted to protest, but that little voice inside his head told him to keep his opinions to himself. Whatever the captain said was to be taken for what it is, and no one could argue. Fiske could remember the last few punishments he'd received-- not that he wanted to remember. It was difficult, given that his backside hurt for hours afterwards, even days, in one or two isolated cases. He didn't want a repeat.

"I.. I understand, Captain." The threat of a flogging came as a genuine surprise, and Fisk looked positively terrified at the idea. The boy lowered his gaze to the food he held and, guilt-ridden, he shoved the meat into the satchel, and just in time for Barbossa to haul him up from the floor. Fisk dropped the satchel, along with the rest of the food, but he made no move to try and rescue any piece. As far as he knew, his meal was over, and there was no telling if he'd get another chance to eat, today.

Fiske could do little else but follow his captain through the ship, making no attempt to try and pull free. That would be a recipe for disaster, if his theft wasn't reason enough for a painful punishment. As soon as he was dragged into the private quarters, Fisk was freed, and he took a few stumbling steps away from Barbossa, and without thinking about it, he adjusted his shirt and vest. His pulse hadn't evened out; it had sped up, actually, as he watched the captain unbuckle his belt and take a seat.

This room was all too familiar, and for all the wrong reasons. For a moment Fiskr remained standing where he was, clearly hesitant to take even one step closer to his captain. He knew better than to leave the room, approach the door, or try to beg his way out of this. Biting his lower lip, Fisk gave a subtle nod, salty tears beginning to sting his eyes. He was determined not to break down in front of his captain, though, so he forced himself to take a few deep breathes, but it wasn't working as well as he hoped.

The cabin boy reached to undo his own belt, loosening it with shaking hands; holding it in place, he stepped over to Barbossa and slowly lowered his breeches. As he moved, he kept on repeating just one phrase; "I'm sorry, Captain, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I stole-" The boy kept his head bowed, and he tried to stop trembling, but it was a losing battle. Fisk didn't want to be belted- who would? That wasn't to say he'd take a flogging instead of a belting; all the same, he knew that his captain wouldn't go easy on him, this punishment wasn't to be taken as anything else but a consequence for his actions.

[KingCrowley]

Floggings were a common punishment on board, but Hector himself only ever delivered a few throughout the year, the rest were given to another stronger crew member, who was ruthless and cruel by nature. While Barbossa could be cruel, he still had a heart, and he didn't have the heart to hand the boy over for a proper flogging. Not with that ghastly cat o' nine tails.

He hauled the boy up onto his feet, not much caring for his protests or whines, he'd done wrong and he was going to be punished, it was just as simple as that. The old Captain began dragging him roughly to his quarters, planning on strapping the boy good and proper so he wouldn't be able to sit down for at least two days without it burning. Barbossa was not very lenient a man. He removed his belt and sat down, ordering the lad to bare himself from the waist down and then to come over.

"Faster lad!" he snapped, when the boy decided to move over slowly to him. Though he did soften a bit when he said he was sorry, and sorry he stole. Hector reached out a hand and gave the boy's cheek a hard pat, it was affectionate though. "I know ye are." he answered with a slight gentleness. "But that doesn't change the fact ye stole from me galley." he added, giving him a knowing look.

"Any other crewman woulda got a floggin' but I aint gonna make you go through that." he assured and then guided Fisk over his knees, making sure his bottom was completely bare for the upcoming punishment. "An' when yer wailing like a babe, when we're done, I'll get ye a decent meal." he informed, not willing to allow his Cabin brat to go hungry, after all he was going to be punished, what was the point of starving him too?

He pinned him down across his lap and then raised the wicked leather. Without another word, he cracked down the belt right slap bang across the middle of his bottom, pausing to see the skin rise an angry pinkish colour. "Me thinks twenty is enough fer yer crimes." he mused, bringing the belt down a second time, this time to the top of his thighs, just below his under curves.

[Nekomimi_Aiden]

Fisk had watched other crew members get flogged, and he didn't like it. It scared him, literally. The boy had heard a few stories of other ship's boys getiing flogged, often with the "boy's cat", as it's called. Fewer cords wouldn't make a flogging any easier to endure, in his opinion. So it was that he became resolved to never give his Captain any reason to properly flog him.

He wished he hadn't been slow loosening his belt, but he could have done worse. He could have openly argued with Barbossa, or made a beeline for the doorway, or.. any number of acts that would have warranted a harsher, and longer punishment. That said, he didn't know how many belt lashes he'd be receiving today. Would if be many? A few? The number of lashes depended on the crime committed.. but most of all, the one in charge of the punishment could give as many or as few as he wanted, and no one could contest that. Fisk nearly flinched when he was patted, humiliation coursing through him. "I-I know, sir.."

He glanced up to meet his Captain's gaze, then looked away. He wanted to say something, to show his gratitude that Barbossa was sparing him the 'cat. Instead he nodded once, biting his lower lip so hard he was sure he tasted a trace of blood. The cabin boy eased himself over the man's knees and curled one arm underneath his chest. Staring at the floor, trying to think of other things, he almost missed hearing Barbossa's comment regarding food. Fisk lifted his head a bit, a few tears tricklimg down his face. ".....thank you, Captain.." It was the most he could bring himself to say. He was certain he'd lose his appetite by the end of his punishment, but he couldn't reject Barbossa's promise. That would be disrespectful; absurd, given that he'd just stolen from the ship galley!

Fisk braced himself inside his head, when he felt pressure against his back. It was better this way, for he knew (from past experience) that he would try to get up. He only had seconds to think about his lost meal, before the belt interrupted his thoughts, broke his concentration. Sharp pain temporarly spread across his backside, fading quickly, he thought. He jerked a little, didn't say a thing.. until Barbossa revealed the extent of the punishment. "Teh-twenty!?" The second strike shut him up quick, and despite his plan to keep quiet this time- longer than usual, Fisk cried out. Number two. "as.. as you say, s-sir..!" Fisk didn't want to bribe or beg for a lesser punishment. He could handle this, couldn't he? He wasn't a child.. but nor was he old enough to be a man, but, he had to do his best and not burst into tears soon. He moved a bit, just to curl one hand into a fist and pressed the side of it against his mouth, his teeth clenched.

[KingCrowley]

( Aww I feel bad for the poor thing XD )

Barbossa would probably always threaten the cat for serious offenses, but never ever bring himself to actually use it on his beloved Cabin boy. He reminded him a lot of himself when he was that age, he remembered being a Cabin boy and being flogged with the dreaded cat o' nine tails, the Captain was a cruel bastard for sure. "Yer welcome me lad, I aint gonna 'ave ye starvin'." he answered, though there was only so much he could say to the boy, he had a punishment to get done and he was adamant that Fisk was going to learn never to steal from the ship or him again.

"Aye, twenty." he repeated, voice calm and cool as he began the belting, landing the first lash of the twenty, and then giving the top of his thighs a sharper whack. He knew it was no more than the boy could take, he'd be sobbing like a wee babe but there'd be no bruising or blood, Hector would ensure it. He raised the belt again, giving the sensitive under curves two sharp whacks with the cruel leather, watching the pale skin begin to turn very quickly to an angry dark pink.

"Ye'll not steal from me, or me ship again lad, ye hear?" Barbossa scolded, shaking his head and looking down at the young boy over his lap, he knew he was already crying but that was even before the punishment, so Hector didn't really acknowledge them. He waited for the answer before then landing five more sharp whacks, quickly to the centre of his errant backside.

[Nekomimi_Aiden]

( he'll get through this! )

Should Fisk take his Captain's threat literally (and why wouldn't he?), then it was highly likely the boy would make himself scarce from the decks of the Black Pearl.. and find another crew. If a crew, at that. There was no shame in returning to land and seeking a job there, was there? Anywhere, any place where he would not be treated like this. All the same.. he understood a little of why he was belted. But only on the days where he wasn't getting a hidin'.

Fisk didn't say anything when Barbossa assured him that a meal was due afterwards; not that Fisk didn't believe him 100%, it was just that.. well. Fisk didn't want to think about food anymore. He wanted his punishment to be over. Twenty seemed like too much for a minor theft; he hadn't stolen a chicken or something. And he hadn't even gotten to eat any of what he'd taken, too.

The cabin boy scrunched his eyes shut as he was belted, but he found it to be somehow worse, so he opened his eyes and stared at the floor. He flinched every time he was struck at the top of his thighs, and shortly he began to cry. When Barbossa asked him a question, it took the boy a couple of tries to say that he wouldn't steal again; the burning-slash-stinging sensation was distracting, he hated it, and yet he tried to keep count of the lashes, inside his head. How many had been given already? He wanted to know how soon the punishment would be over, assuming he didn't try to escape and in turn prolong the belting.

Fisk's cries became louder as he was belted five consecutive times, and at once he began to squirm a bit, unable to keep still any longer, but he made no attempts to push himself up. If he did steal again, he'd make sure he wouldn't get caught; he'd find a better hiding place.

[KingCrowley]

Barbossa was incredibly fond of his cabin boy, but punishing him was mandatory when he decided to misbehave, and stealing from the ship was actually a serious offense, especially if part of the crew, every crew member had to ask permission from the Captain. He was actually insulted that the boy had the audacity to steal from him, as far as he saw it, giving the child a belting was being lenient. He said nothing as he lashed the bottom over his lap, another three times, before landing two to the sensitive under curve and one across his upper thighs.

That totalling fifteen, the lad only had five more to go. But judging by the state of the sobbing infant over his lap, Barbossa paused and sighed heavily, thinking over some sort of compromise. "Alright quit yer bellyachin' an' listen te me." he said, but his voice was gentle, almost compassionate. "Ye can either take yer remainin' five, or we can stop now and ye can clean out the waste buckets." he explained to him. It was an unpleasant, foul job but would certainly hurt less than five more smacks with the belt over already sore, welted, bright red skin.

"Make yer decision fast lad. Or I'll be decidin' fer ye."