aptain Darragh stared at Garson a few moments after the men left. The boy barely blinked and not once turned away from the captain's scrutinizing glare. 

     "Cap'n," acknowledged a man entering the cabin. "I was told we caught a stowaway with an evil eye. Looks like that pack o' fools wasn't lyin' this time. Damnation!" 

     Garson tried to keep his breathing even as the new man walked slowly around to look him over. He was tall and lean with messy brown hair that needed to be washed along with clothes that smelled as if he'd come from the deepest, dankest pit of the ship. 

     "Whew!" exclaimed Captain Darragh. "Ye smell like ye've been to hell, yerself, Cian!" 

     "Problem with the rudder and a suspected leak in the hull," Cian replied. "Ye stole a bucket o' bolts, Cap'n," he chuckled. "What of this?" he asked about Garson as he walked to the side of the desk. 

     When the quartermaster went to stand to the left, Garson had to glance over with his good eye. After a quick assessment of the newest arrival, he looked back at the captain. The man carried a flog and Garson clenched his teeth in preparation for what was to come next. 

     "Findin' out now. As fer that eye, ye know it ain't no such thing," Captain Darragh huffed. "Interesting the crew thinks so, though," he said as he tugged on his reddish blonde beard in contemplation. 

     "What's yer name, lad? And don't go lyin' t' me. The floggin' yer gettin' fer sneakin' aboard my ship'll be much worse if ye do," Captain Darragh warned. 

     Garson returned the captain's gaze and wondered if he should answer honestly. It wasn't as though pirates would turn him over to the constable. Still, he had to wonder what they would think and do. 

     "That's five more lashes," Captain Darragh told him when he wouldn't answer. "I'll ask again and if you don't..." 

     "Garson Wade," Garson replied, "but I didn't answer because of your threat. I don't care if you know my name. I'm nobody. I don't matter much. I just wanted food. Are you gonna beat me for being hungry?" He gave a laugh and grinned. "I've been beat for less and worse than that thing could do," he said with a nod toward the cat-o-nine-tails. 

     Captain Darragh looked up at Cian in surprise. He cleared his throat from the unfamiliarity of such boldness in his presence. Reaching to take the flog from his second in command, he looked back at Garson. 

     "I can understand hunger makin' a man do terrible things if he's hurtin' enough," Captain Darragh told him. He rested the flog on the desk in front of him but didn't release his grip on the handle. "Starvation didn't put ye on my ship. What kinda trouble could a young lad like you be into that ye'd pick a pirate ship as a safe haven?" 

     Garson looked down at the flog as he thought on his words. He looked back up at the captain whose patience was wearing thin. He supposed telling them the truth couldn't hurt. It might even make these men respect him. 

     "Killed my father," he replied. 

     He swallowed as he watched the unflinching gaze of the captain. 

     "Anymore t' that?" Captain Darragh asked. 

     He was intrigued by this boy who couldn't be older than fifteen. He had been told of the food and clothes being stolen and knew there was someone else aboard. Mother? Sister? Brother? Did he have a whole family stowed away someplace? 

     "Priest told him to cut out my eye to free my soul of the demon living in it," Garson answered. "My father tried to kill my mother for laying with a devil to make me and this eye. He was going to kill all of us. I decided he'd die instead." 

     Captain Darragh looked up at Cian again with a shake of his head. 

     "Damn, lad! That's a helluva thing," Darragh exclaimed. "How old are ye?" 

     Garson took a deep breath as he felt a little more at ease by the calm response. 

     "Fourteen," he answered. "I'll be fifteen in a few months. Old enough for work someplace." 

     Darragh laughed. "Are ye askin' fer a job on my crew?" 

     "No, sir," Garson replied. "I was only trying to get someplace no one would know me. Someplace I could get a home to bring my mother to when I'm able. I didn't mean to cause you or your crew trouble. I couldn't take a regular ship and risk anyone from my province recognizing me. I just want to get where I'm going and be on my way." 

     Darragh nodded in understanding and looked Garson over as though to measure him up for his usefulness on his ship. 

     "Ain't no free rides on the Black Wood," Cian told Garson. "Ye'll have to pull yer weight 'n the cap'n ain't one fer lettin' stowaways carry on like they was never here. Who knows where ye'll go and who'll ye'll tell about us." 

     "I don't know anyone outside of that town I ran away from," Garson replied with a look of impertinence. "I have my own problems. Why would I want to run my mouth to people who want me burned for being in league with demons? Are you gonna to turn me in? Pirates running to the king's hunters?" 

     Garson snorted and smirked at the absurdity, and Darragh held his hand up to stop Cian from retaliating. 

     "That's a helluva mouth ye have, lad," Darragh remarked. 

     He squinted his eyes as Garson only glared at him. "Who else ye got with ye?" 

     He watched closely, but Garson made no reaction toward the suggestion. 

     "In the week since we left port, we've come up missin' enough rations for at least two people," he continued. "I can see yer a fit boy. A bit small fer yer age and needin' some paddin' on those bones, but strong and fit. Makes no difference. There's too much missin' for it to just be you eatin'." 

     Darragh waited but Garson still said nothing. 

     Garson watched as Darragh stood and sighed. He slapped the flog against the palm of his hand as Garson continued to stare unflinching. When Darragh came around the corner of his desk, Garson paid close attention to every move he made. 

     "I said once that yer gettin' a floggin' fer bein' a stowaway," Darragh said in a lazy voice dripping in danger. "I added five more licks t' that for not answerin' when I asked ye a question. I'll add another ten for not answerin' this one, then I'll find whatever rats ye brung aboard and flog them, too. I'll kill 'em while ye watch, then keelhaul ye." 

     As Darragh took a step forward, he raised the flog high. Just before he could bring it down, Garson grabbed his wrist and held tightly. 

     Darragh couldn't stop a shocked gasp at the strength, and when he looked into Garson's eyes, he could swear they both had a flame burning in anticipation for his immortal soul. 

     Cian hurried over and tried to grab Garson, but Garson kicked him back with his foot to the gut. He grabbed the flog from Darragh's hand and knocked Cian to the ground with a hard blow to the jaw. 

     Darragh stepped back and stared in shock as Garson stood over Cian and hit him repeatedly with the deadly flog, the nine straps of leather spraying blood each time it was raised and slung down for another hit. 

     Cian's painful screams brought in two men from the corridor. Like Darragh, they could only stand and stare as Garson released his pent-up rage with each hit, snarling vulgarities they could barely comprehend.