A young man with a magical ability to control the wind, estranged from his family, seeks to reunite with them, but finds himself entangled with a bloodthirsty pirate who he’ll have to get through to keep his family safe.
Author’s Note on Eye of the Storm
Most of human examination in Western cultures interpret from select perspectives. The histories we study, the movies we watch, and even the fictional books and fairy tales we read are saturated with a European perspective. This work gives a perspective that, although fictional, represents the stories that are under-represented in historical scholarship and modern popular culture. The protagonist, Darin, is a person whose background would have never been recognized in history. He represents the hopes, fears, agency, struggles, and triumphs of the invisible perspective. His family experiences the harsh realities of African people in the historic West Indies. The fantasy and mythology of this story heighten the adventure and dramatize the narrative, but outside of that, I’ve researched to make the story as authentic and historically accurate as possible.
Excerpt
The next morning, Darin was summoned to the captain’s cabin. He had no idea what to expect. He tried to make himself useful after being freed from his servitude on the Garrington.
The Bradbury was an impressive galleon with a pirate crew of seventy men. Even though he knew very little about pirates, he would find out if mingling with them offered a former slave boy opportunities that were absent elsewhere.
“What do ye want, boy?” the captain asked.
“I want a ship of my own,” Darin replied without hesitation. This was his first time in any captain’s cabin. He didn’t want it to be his last.
Esmond, the bosun, and other surrounding sailors roared with laughter while they stood in the large cabin. Captain Bloodburne chuckled in his chair.
Darin remained stoic. He was serious about his ambition. Becoming a captain may be the only way to see his family again.
Bloodburne took a couple of breaths and continued in his husky voice. “What’s yer name, boy?”
“Darin.”
The captain stroked his bushy black beard. His stern countenance was a proper fit for his heavy-chested body. “Esmond says ye know a great deal about ships. Were ye carpenter’s mate in the sloop we freed ye from?”
“No, sir, I’m just one of the many slaves who built the sloop in Bermuda.”
“How many ships ye build in Bermuda?”
Darin thought for a moment. He had never counted before. “‘Bout twenty, captain. Been building ships since I was eleven.”
“I can always use a man who knows his way around the sails.” Bloodburne gazed into Darin’s eyes. “I don’t give a damn about ye being a slave or any savage upbringing ye might have. Do yer part and treasure will be yer best friend.”
Two sailors smiled at the reference to treasure.
“But if ye cross me,” Bloodburne continued. “Ye’ll be begging me to send ye to Davy Jones’s locker before I’m done breaking ye.”
Darin held his gaze on the captain’s eyes. “I understand.”
“Cap’n,” the quartermaster, another large, stocky sailor, raised a pile of papers for the captain to see.
Darin recognized them as the pirate code he, and all those who volunteered signed their commitment to the crew.
“Aye,” Bloodburne responded. “That’s Jack, my quartermaster. Jack and I have known each other since we were wee lads. This isn’t yer typical pirate ship, boy. We fill every position on this ship with only those I trust. And yer a long way from that.”
The captain paused, not taking his eyes off Darin.
“Where ya learn to read and write?” Jack’s voice surprised Darin since Bloodburne had been asking all the questions. “Ya signed the code with yer bloody name. Half the men here don’t write, so they make some mark. Yer a damned slave! What’s yer bloody story?”
“Was, a slave,” Darin corrected the man. “My mother taught me.”
“And how in hell she know how to write English?” The smell of pickled vegetables from Bloodburne’s breath washed over Darin’s face.
In fact, she knew more than English. “I don’t know, sir. She always told us, it ain’t our business to know all her secrets.”
“Us?” Jack questioned. “Ye related to other darkies on that ship?”
“No, sir. Captain, I have three sisters. They were all sent away with my mother seven years ago before I left Bermuda. I haven’t seen them since.” Darin heard a rumor of them being sold in Port Royal, but he kept that to himself.
Someone banged on the door.
Bloodburne nodded to a man, and the sailor moved to answer it.
“Okay, Darin.” The captain smirked. “I like a man who knows what he wants. Let’s see what ye can do.” He gestured towards his bosun. “Ye can be Esmond’s mate.”
Esmond folded his arms and smirked as he stood. “I’ll test the boy for you, Cap’n.”
“A sail is approaching, sir,” the sailor who answered the door reported.
Bloodburne snarled and stood up from his chair. He walked over to stand face to face with Darin. Bloodburne’s body was twice Darin’s size, but they stood equal in height. “If Esmond says ye can’t handle it…I’m gonna cut the tongue from yer black mouth, and ye’ll swab the deck, dumb until hell comes for ye.”
“Yes, sir,” Darin replied, holding his breath from the now stronger odor of pickles. He kept his expression blank, but on the inside, a flutter of excitement rose.
“I don’t trust his eyes, Cap’n,” Jack spoke again. “They remind me of a black cat I had years ago. I hated that cat.”
Darin knew Jack referred to the gold streak in his eyes. A trait he and all his sisters inherited from his mother. Her irises were rich gold. He and his sisters had eyes that reflected different strands of amber.
“Could be a sign o’ fortune ahead.” Bloodburne’s hand then reached towards Darin’s chest and pulled the necklace out of his shirt, revealing a battered bronze medallion. In its center sat an exquisite piece of jade in the shape of an eye.
“It’s a gift from my mother,” Darin answered.
“Where would a slave wench get a jewel like this?” Blooburne said in a low voice.
Darin treaded carefully. “My mother has a reputation for keeping strange trinkets and jewelry.”
“Yer mother a witch?” Jack asked.
A twinge struck Darin’s gut. The silence was deafening as he hesitated in answering.
“She keeps a few ancient beliefs from her homeland. I don’t share them. The medallion is nothing of concern.”
Bloodburne turned it in his hand as he investigated it. The bronze work was worn and corroded, but the jade center sparkled a bit.
“How would a slave be able to keep this?” Bloodburne looked from the medallion back to Darin’s eyes.
“It’s a long story.”
“Hmph. Sure it is.” Bloodburne dropped the medallion.
Darin slipped it back inside his shirt.
“As ye heard,” Bloodburne started, “or read, in the code; we don’t take each other’s treasure. But ye better not be bringing no curse on my ship, Goldie.”
“No, sir. Never.” Darin silently hoped that nickname wouldn’t stick.
Bloodburne turned his attention to the rest of the men in the room. “Let’s see who this bastard is coming toward us. We need to get going anyway.” Everyone made their way to the door.
Darin felt good about his first meeting in a captain’s cabin, but he skipped a breath at Bloodburne’s last words…
“I’ve got business in Port Royal.”
