I am a 13 year old pirate. Now before you try to hunt me down, I just want to say that I didn’t want this to happen. I am an orphan boy from England. I really hated the dirty streets there in London, so I snuck aboard a merchant ship heading to Virginia when I was 10. Well things went downward from there. A wild storm threw us off course, or so I thought. I could only hear the yells of the sailors above me. I was stuck in a barrel for at least 2 days. I remember hearing gunshots and screaming aboard. My heart beat faster and my mind wandered and started thinking about different tales of sea monsters.

Suddenly, my barrel was picked up. I heard the grunt of a man. “What in King James is in here,” A man said in a croaky English accent. The lid came off the barrel and I saw a man looking down on me, his hair hidden with a bandanna. Some blood was on his face, and he smiled a toothy grin, give or take a few teeth. After they got me out of the barrel and gave me some water and some bread they started. “What be yer name boyo?” One pirate had asked. I shrugged. Back in England, I didn’t have a name. “I don’t have a name sir.” I said. “Let’s give the boy a name. Make him one of us. He is so young,” one pirate said to another, who looked like their leader. He had fire in his eyes – or eye. He wore a black eye patch and his beard was as big as a crow’s nest. He nodded to the man. “We will call the boy Thomas,” He said in a bellowing voice. “AYAY!” they all yelled in return – a good 20 of them.

I have been a pirate for 3 years now. The cap’ has taken me under his wing and is like a father to me. We plunder the ocean, looking for merchant boats that give us the most loot. Only a year ago did the captain start to let me help on the raids. He gave me my own pistol. He gave me a dagger when I first was found. We are neither rich nor poor. Every day when I wake up I hear the groans and grunts of men working aboard deck.  I smell rotting meat and other foul smells that don’t bother me after years aboard. I stumble around my cabin, banging my foot on a barrel while trying to get out of the dark room. I curse to myself under my breath. It is always dark down hear and it is so cramped too. Small puddles of water are everywhere making it almost impossible to stay dry. I make my way toward the upper deck. As soon as I come up the stairs the sun blinds me and the sound of birds fills my ears. I feel the cool wind against my face and hair. The smell of the fresh sea excites me and I grin with the thought of stealing gold. I look around the Atlantic Ocean with a smirk on my face. It’s the year 1655 and the English are trying to colonize in America. That means more merchants will come into these waters bringing goods, which means we will get lots more riches.

        I remember my first battle. It was my thirteenth birthday. I still remember the Cap’n’s voice. “PREPARE FOR BATTLE!”. He turned to me and gave me a toothy grin. I always wondered how he kept those intact after all he had been through. He hands me a pistol. I look up to him and smile. He looks at me. “Don’t get yer self-killed. That would be a bad birthday now wouldn’t it?” He gives me a wink and turns to the rest of his crew. “PREPARE THE CANNONS!” He bellows. The men scramble and fill the cannons quickly. I catch a quick glimpse of a man stuffing two cannon balls into one canon connected by a chain. “WE DON’T WANT THIS GIRL RUNNING AWAY NOW DO WE?” The Cap’ yells. “NO SIR!” The crew yells back. I watch as the captain surveys all of the groups of men stuffing cannon balls into cannons. “STEADY. AIM. FIRE!” The captain roars as loud as he can. The sound of the numbingly loud cannons firing hurts my ears, but I don’t want to cover them and show my weakness. I wince from the ringing in my ears but I get used to it. I peer on to the other ship. One of the cannons balls that had been attached by a chain to another one hit the main mast of the merchant ship. I hear a crack and the screams of merchants as their mast come falling down on them.

Suddenly, chaos broke out, or so it seemed. The crew started using tactics that I had never seen before. They threw small balls shaped like pomegranates at the ship and they blew up, causing chaos among the enemy ship. I later discovered that these were called Grenada’s. Then some men grab some boarding axes and chop through sails. They clamor aboard and start a blood bath. My eyes widen at the horrific sight folding before me. Then I remind myself: Its for the gold. I watch the captain as he grabs one of the ropes on our ship and swings aboard the merchant vessel, landing on a man and shooting him. I grab my knife and stick it in my mouth. I can’t carry a knife and a pistol can I?

I grab one of the ropes and I swing aboard. My heart leaps into my stomach when I look down and sea the raging sea, but suddenly I’m on wood again. I look around me and see a battle folding before my eyes. I take aim at a merchant and pull the trigger. Unfortunately the boat rocked to the side and by shot missed. I reloaded my pistol as fast as possible – taking about 3 minutes. I take aim at another enemy. I fire. There is a flash in my gun, but nothing happens. I growl in frustration and flip my gun over so that I am holding it by the chamber.

I run up to a enemy and smack a merchant in the head with the but of my gun, making him fall to the ground, either knocked out or dead with a cracked skull. I grin, a dark smile, and look around. I see crimson blood everywhere, splinters flying around, puffs of smoke from artillery, and the grins of my successful colleagues. The remaining merchants had surrendered and were now strapped to the mast with rope. The Cap’ looks at me as the other pirates transfer the loot and cargo from the merchant vessel to ours. He grins down at me, once again with that toothy grin. I smile back, proud of myself. “Good job Boyo. You didn’t die.” We both laugh. From then on, I loved being a pirate.