"Seas" the Day: The Macaws' Freedom

"Sailing, oh sailing! Far away be thy plight as the ship travels on to fables, folly, and lore. Many a man has made his way on the ravaging vessel that be the sea." the young man sang with glee, and pressed his arm against his breast.

The men that surrounded him on the ship spat in their makeshift cuspidors. They paid the man who sang on this ship no mind. He was green with no experience under his belt or wings.

For now, the man's shipmates let him sing to his heart's content like a bard on journey in a fantasy world. Reality would set in soon enough, and the men would discover of what he was made. The first storm or attack was likely to harden or terrify him; one or the other. For now, the man had paid the upfront cost to join the crew and was working equal to the rest. Let him sing if he must. There be no harm in it.

Times, minds, and hearts change soon enough, so they figured.

Sweat beaded off the man's brow. After a few months of sailing, he was growing accustomed to his new life on the high seas. As the sun set, he made a makeshift resting place on deck.

He thought of the life he had left behind; a "comfortable" life in England, or so he had been told. He could have joined the Royal Navy, but nay that was not where his heart spoke to him to go. He had tired of his life in England. His ma and pop never truly had it easy. Government never truly was as kind as it was made out to be in the papers. His opportunity to rise through the ranks as a poor man was beyond unlikely, and he couldn't bear the thought of living his life as a cog in another's machine. Instead, he traded his lot for the life of piracy, adventure, risk, and opportunity.

Those that remained in England could hate him for joining thieves and heathens, but he knew the truth. His own idea of justice and morality substantially contradicted theirs. Those of the Royal Navy, government, and churches that remained were no better, and never had been. They were merely fooling themselves. He and the pirates at least embraced it; never claiming the status of saints and adhering to the proclamation that they were indeed sinners. This simple honesty he found commendable.

The pirates, his comrades, were truly what were described. He didn't have need to second guess their motives or interests, and that made life easier. He knew who to rely on, who to avoid, and who required his obedience or service.

Many of his cohorts joined for wealth and riches; gold, jewels, precious stones, wines, furs, skins, spices and the like, but alas that was not this man's main interest.

The reward of power, status, and fame drove some. As he mentioned, the thought of rising through ranks as a poor man was implausible, but here on the high seas anything could happen. The greatest names, fiercest outlaws, and most fearsome and loathsome men had come from a commoner's status, and they excelled. Yet, it was not that type of life that had intrigued the man, nor was it his desire.

The man saw in his lifetime fools who would sink to the depths of the seas for their beloved treasure. A treasure made by man or of a material that moth or flame could destroy was not something he considered worth exchanging his life.

Nor did he see the importance of cumbersome power that could incite a mutiny desirable. He had read and seen those consequences. Maybe the man was struck with wanderlust, finding it necessary to travel and see things he had only previously read about. Alas, that was not it either.

He considered his desire to escape. Was he running from what he viewed to be a tyrannical government exactly what the man sought? Nay, he felt something more; something that was deeply rooted into the heart of man, something that was discouraged, and deemed by authorities of mankind as forbidden as the apple to Eve. A strange and seemingly impossible desire overtook him as he made the decision to walk upon that pirate ship.

FREEDOM!

He breathed the salted air in deeply through his nostrils. It stank of foul smelling fish, sweaty men, booze, musty wool, and various layers of indistinguishable matter, but he was breathing. The salted air left a sweet scent that lingered on the tip of his nose. Something about the salt and sea smelled sweeter than any road, home, or woman in England. He knew it was likely he was imagining it, but he still stuck out his tongue as if catching a snowflake to savor its taste.

In these few short months, his shipmates never raised a hand toward him, despite the bickering or fighting for ranks at times. Their drunken brawls and reckless nature somehow never included him. When the men brought back spoils and he along with them, he knew to only take his share. Still, he partook in these delicacies, ate, beheld, and drank the riches other regions' bounties could only provide; sampling each luxury and indulging to his fill.

This new life was simple, yet indulgent in new ways never experienced in England. The occasional battles were exhilarating and gave him an adrenaline high both mysterious and foreign to him previously. He anticipated he would be fearful, but realized even in death so long as he died on the ship, he died a free man. He would die as a rogue on his own quest away from the laws, rigidity, and stagnation of society. Even if a fellow crewmate slew him, he felt it a more honorable way to die than at the rule of the governing body. This realization made him fight evermore fervently. He had no regrets about leaving England.

His life and the life of his crewmates, however, was about to change. The British pirates soon discovered Spanish vessels off the coast of Belize. Spoils would be plentiful just when the crew was running low on rations. The opportunity seemed too good to be true, fortuitous even.

A sailor shouted from the crow's nest, "The Spanish vessel is in view and aiming to fire!"

"Prepare the cannons and take your positions! The damned Spaniards seek to destroy us." the English pirate captain roared.

The Spanish ship, El Pájaro, fired before a single cannon was lit on the English pirates' side. The shot hit the forecastle of The Teresa. As the English pirates had sloppily strung black powder rations in their haste to defend The Teresa, the Spaniards' shot ignited and set the ship ablaze. Some men roasted to their doom, others driven mad plunged overboard to the sea's depths. The once singing man instead watched as the adversaries swarmed the parts of their deck not yet reach by fire. In brilliant magnificence did he see flames, blood splattered men, and shining metal around him.

It was the clanking noise of swords that awoke the young man from his temporary stunned slumber. His body unbeknownst to him had moved on its own. He was now eyeing a hard, black bearded fellow with a brightly colored bird flitting above his head. The man's garb was that of royalty, and as he looked above the man's sword to his face, he noticed the feathered tricorn atop his head. The Spanish captain to be sure.

The once singing man knew to tread carefully. Yet, despite the number of times he fended off the captain's attack, he was simply outmatched. In short order, the young lad's sword was swept across the deck and he now found himself on the ground of the deck. The Spanish captain's teeth ridden with silver and gold, gritted in a gnarly, twisted, foreboding smile toward the young man.

"Who be yer captain?" the Spaniard inquired as he held the young man at the point of his sword.

"Aye, the cruel sea is my master and mistress. For even in her cruelties there is kindness, and a welcoming yet fearful place in her depths. My soul doth rest in her bosom there." the man answered without an ounce of fear in his face. His eyes were sternly set, and his mouth upturned into a smug smirk. If he was going down, he was going down while provoking his attacker in a last act of defiance.

The Spanish ship's captain marveled at his words as his black mustached lips ticked upward slightly into a wry smile.

"Bold words for such a young lad." he stated and drove the sword's point further into the young fellow's throat. "I was hoping to skirmish with the best swordsman on the ship and decided ever too quickly that it mustn't be you." He laughed wildly before continuing. "Your sword skills reek of mediocrity, but your fighting spirit is rare in a man. It just so happens that I am a collector of such spirits in men and in beasts." The man held his hand upward to his feathered friend in the sky. The bird perched on the captain's gloved hand. The captain did not remove his sword's point from the young lad's throat, but allowed him to view the creature.

The young man had once seen similar birds trafficked to England in metal carriers, sold as bounty to the highest bidder. The birds' rarity and exotic charm was unrivaled in terms of the day. As a small boy, the young man had often dreamed of holding such a creature, smoothing its feathers and plume. Alas, only the most prestigious could afford such magnificent creatures, but the imprisoned birds' color dulled in comparison to the bird the Spanish captain now held in his hand. He had read about a few pirate captains that flaunted such beautiful creatures as their own status symbols but, the young lad never imagined that he would be at the point of one's sword.

The captain's bird was clad with a scarlet breast, yellow-green hues, and finely outlined in blue. The vibrancy of the bird's plumage seemed surreal. This young man stared in wonder at the divine spectacle before him. The bird was unchained, unmarked as property, and freely flitted to and from the captain's hand. Could such a man trust that the bird would not escape him, and why was the bird loyal to him in the first place? While this young man had only adored them at a distance, knowing that for him such beauties were out of reach, this Spanish captain held one in his hand.

How was such a thing possible? For the young man's moment of wonder, he had forgotten his discomfort and concerning position on the floor of the deck. The sword point still dug into his neck slightly. The captain spoke once more, "Shall I send thee to yer mistress or shall you join my ranks as an apprenticed swordsman? I told ye I am a collector of fighting spirits, provided you are not loyal to any man nor country."

The young man considered asking for death, but then sorted out the confusion of the captain's words in his brain. "Answer me this, Sir Captain, how do ye control that bird to make it yours?"

To this, the Spanish captain smiled. "I have no intention of capturing these birds to make them mine. This bird is my companion, but even he has freewill. I give them freedom unlike other masters requiring their service. Should I never see this fellow again, it is right with me. Though, I have had the fortune to witness plentiful bounty of birds such as this. I can show ye if ye seek to serve me as well." the captain said with a twinkle in his eye.

Though the young man perceived he should be wary, something about that spark in the man's eye ignited his curiosity, and he found himself once more listening to his venturing heart. The captain knew his answer, and thus withdrew his sword's end. His hand rested briefly on the sword's hilt as he set his partner flying satisfactorily into the air. The captain outstretched his hand to the young man, and he received it.

In the blaze of the burning, sinking ship, Teresa, an interaction that seemed hours long occurred in a few mere seconds. Seconds were all either of them had as they fled to board El Pájaro. The Spanish pirates had looted the contents, mostly jewels and gold, of the Teresa and added to their already abundant treasures.

"To Belize!" the captain and crew cheered. The young man looked back at the Teresa he once called his home as it sank to the depths, burning all the while. He wondered how much water it would take to quell the flames that engulfed it. Many of his prior crewmates rested in the peace that was the sea's bosom whilst he quested on toward adventure. He wondered for a moment if he should feel something, guilt perhaps, but instead persevered onward. He had made his choice.

He wondered why the Spanish captain wanted him as his swordsman when he concurred that his skills were mediocre. He recalled the fighting spirit he was told he had, but alas he questioned that. He thought of the bird and the captain's uncanny demeanor. This was not a man he could easily comprehend.

The closer the pirates sailed to Belize, the more wonder the young man's eyes beheld. There was not one, but several of the same majestic birds the Spanish captain had held. Watching the red-breasted birds with blue, yellow, and green trim prune their feathers, fly about, and flock one to another, mesmerized him. "So many of them" he gaped in awe.

The Spanish captain caught the young man by surprise, "Those are scarlet macaws, lad. I suppose ye ain't ever seen them before?"

"Just yours an' some in cages back home in England." the young man responded, still eyeing the birds.

"Aye, me heart can't stand the thought of seeing them in cages." the captain said, and rested his hand on the young lad's shoulder.

The young lad startled at the sudden gesture, but the captain ignored it and continued speaking.

"I once had a crew, not my crew, but another captain's. I did not like the lot of them. They were a rather awful crew and the most unpleasant of companies, but we always did get a big bounty. I recall the first time we sailed to this place their urging with greed. They laid their eyes upon them birds there, and says to me, "They'll fetch a hefty bounty if we capture 'em." Some things, my boy, ye shan't make yer own. It just ain't right, and while I don't mind collecting spirits I'm not a fan of breaking those that shouldn't be broken. You see the birds as I see them, don't ye? I see on your face that awe and wonder that restless freedom that we all long fer. There be no closer exhibit of that spiritual freedom of man that makes itself manifest than in the beauty and majesty of the macaw. That's why I treasure them, not for the price of monies they would fetch me, nah, for their comin' and goin' of their own choosing. How much better is the company of those that can't be bought than of those that always have a price?"

The young man was now truly at a loss for words and comprehension. He had encountered no man quite like this in England nor in the crew he was with previously. He read in the papers about the Spanish, and based on what he read this man was something like a figment created of his own imagination. The stark contrast between the descriptions in the papers and this man's statement could not be any more different. Had the lad died along with the ship he was formerly on, and was he now in a dream-like state of being instead of waking life? Though, this dream was beyond unusual for a mind like his. He awoke when the captain swatted his shoulder, and looked him in the eye demanding an answer.

The young lad could think of no words to speak, but his looking at the macaws and nodding in silence seemed to content the captain.

"When we arrive to shore, you will meet our small company with which we trade and exchange goods and services. I will leave you to the tutelage of our expert swordsman who is not keen on sailing the waters. Like all captains, it is in my best interest to have good swordsmen on my ship. Ye shall be one of them. I will allow you your freedom, and the sea as your mistress, but the name of your captain is Hernando Espinosa. I took in your word that ye have agreed to my service, and the tutelage of my highest regarded mentors. This choice is yours. I offer you no chains or bounds to hold you here or to your word, you are free to come and go as you please, much like these macaws. What will it be, dear swordsman?" the captain inquired.

The young man answered, "My honor, sir", and pledged his hand to his heart.

"One more thing," the captain instructed, "do not harm or discomfort the locals" as he pointed upward at the macaws.

When the ship touched earth, the young man knew he was going to train as a swordsman to yet again heed the call of his mistress, the sea, at some point in the undeterminable future, and now to heed the call of his captain, Hernando Espinosa. As he watched El Pájaro sail off into the seas without him, he could have sworn he saw a flock of birds gather and cover Captain Hernando Espinosa as he laid his arms out to greet them, and laughed like a madman. He would be back, and the young man would be ready to go with him, just like the macaws.

He listened to the birds sing as the ship sailed away, and though he had always enjoyed singing, he felt as though the birds' song was that of his very heart; thus, he did not disturb such a tune.