Severus, the littlest stowaway Part 1

Preface

This story runs parallel to the Plantation owner’s son, its set in the same era and ultimately the two stories will converge.

Chapter One, Captain Black-Jack Morgan

Approximately two hundred nautical miles South-by-west of Madagascar the HMS Respite’s grappling hooks held fast onto the stays of the infamous Pirate ship, The Black Crow, holding her firmly in her iron clutches. Meanwhile HMS Respites contingent of marines readied themselves for battle. The men of The Black Crow were not only dangerous but also desperate for they had no possibility of escape, save capturing HMS Respite. High above the deck aboard Respite the previous day, third Lieutenant Jack Stohl could hardly believed his good fortune, while standing his watch up in the crows nest he had sighted the Black Crow rounding the Horn. On receiving this information the captain immediately ordered, beat to arms and the Royal Navy gave chase.

For all of that day and night they chased The Black Crow north-by-east up the coast of the Dark Continent. Finally at dawn the next morning The Black Crow was in range of the Long Knives. The Captain ordered the mast breakers (two canon balls connected by chain) loaded into the long knives and they made short-order of Black Crows Solid-Oak Main Mast. Not long after her mast came crashing down in a tangled web of rigging, sailors and top sheets did her stern chaser guns fall silent and she was completely at the mercy of the Royal Navy, to which end the skipper, wasted no time in blasting the by jeeves out of The Black Crow, before bringing his ship alongside and ordering the marines to dispatch the grappling hooks.

No sooner had the boarding-planks been lowered did the marines and the pirates merge together like ants on spilled molasses then a life-and-death battle ensued. Men were being shot, one fellows head came clean off when he was struck by cannon ball fire from Respites rig mounted cannon, and yet another was skewered and lifted clean of his feet by the Marines flag bearer, carrying the ships ensign. Everywhere laid the dead and wounded, shot, stabbed, skewered and decapitated, the deck was awash with blood and gore. A powder-monkey (young boy that delivers gun powder for the cannons) hiding under a long boat slammed a carpenters mallet down onto the naked toes of a pirate just as he was about to stab a marine with a concealed dagger, distracting him and giving the marine the upper hand who soon dispatched the pirate and grinned thankfully at the boy.

Captain Severus Cavendish, of His Majesties Royal Navy, knew that he had to somehow save the day and the only way that he could achieve this was to have his counterpart surrender, he knew that only then would the pirate’s follow suit and surrender. Cavendish stood in a fighters stance on the quarter deck of the Black Crow, legs braced firmly apart and saber ready, the wind wisped his curly blond hair away from his eyes, a trickle of blood flowed freely from a slash on his temple, where only moments before he had very nearly been decapitated while sword-fighting Captain Black-Jack Morgan, the most vicious and infamous pirate in the Caribbean. The fight had been progressing for eons as both men were evenly matched, but just as they were ready to collapse from their respective injuries and exhaustion, Severus had prevailed and he now stood with his saber at Black-Jack Morgan’s throat. Morgan rested exhausted and wounded on his knees; his sword lay uselessly by his almost severed left hand.

“Yield ye black hearted scum sucking son of a bilge-rat,” Severus roared as he continued to menace him with his saber.  Blood flowed from Morgan’s mouth and though his wounds were mostly mortal he scowled as he opened his mouth to curse his adversary, then suddenly!

“Severus Cavendish, get your scrawny butt, here this instant!”

Severus snapped out of his daydream. For a little while he tried to keep his fantasy alive and he continued to slash at the tall grass with the wooden sword, but it was no use. Why is it always so? Just as he was beginning to have fun, his mother summoned him, no doubt to do more chores. Didn’t anyone understand that he was on school holidays? Severus was very nearly tempted to reply angrily, but he knew that when his father arrived home, he would pay dearly for such impertinence, instead, he responded meekly, “Yes mother,” He stabbed the grass one last time, “take that black-jack,” and turned and slowly walked back towards his house.

Severus hated his life, though all things considered he had very little reason to, as his parents provided for him in every way, and although his father was a most stern and un-humorous man he was not overly cruel or violent and his mother loved him dearly. His parents, being relatively wealthy were providing Severus with an excellent education at St Margaret’s College for young gentleman, where Severus boarded during the school term. Severus knew he led a fortunate life, there were many unfortunate children his age and even younger who lived beggars lives in the streets of Portsmouth, he knew this because he often passed them in the streets, occasionally he gave them his lunch which his mother had prepared for him, or sometimes he gave them loose coins if he had any in his pockets.

Mostly the reasons he hated his life related to his father’s expectations. Severus had two older brothers, Marcus and James. They had also attended St Margaret’s College for young gentleman, but unlike Severus they had attained the status of prefects and both had graduated with honors. Marcus, his oldest brother, worked alongside father at the Chandlery, whilst James had achieved an academic scholarship to London University. Meanwhile thirteen-year-old Severus floundered in every single academic subject. Subsequently Severus had every right to a feeling of trepidation upon his father reading his interim school report. A report that Father O’Shea had sent out by post, only last week, but not before with great delight, making Severus read its contents.

Father O’Shea’s report labeled Severus a slacker, a waster and a silly-heart. He reported that academically Severus had not learnt a single useful thing this year. Severus father’s threat weighed heavily on his mind, should he not improve his grades then he would be leaving St Margaret’s College for young gentleman whereupon  he would be apprenticed to the fellow that owned the Butcher shop on Laidly Street. A man, who by his  recollection was both cruel and violent and Severus feared him greatly.

For as long as Severus could remember he had always dreamt of a life away from England and its cold miserable winters. As a little boy he had sat wide-eyed and listened as sailors and quarter-masters alike espoused to him their tales of high adventures upon the oceans and foreign lands of the world. Exotic Stories of fierce natives, vicious blood thirsty pirates and grand battles between Spanish Galleons and American Privateers and no matter how hard Severus tried, he could not understand how algebra could possibly be important in the grand scheme of things, especially when England was threatening to go to war against the colonies. But yet his father had insisted that he remain grounded to his task of becoming a gentleman scholar, telling young Severus that education was the mark of a true gentleman. Severus had met several gentlemen before and from his experience he had very little desire to become one himself. In fact he much preferred the bawdy language and down-to-earth mannerisms of the seafaring folk that lived by the harbor side.

“Severus Cavendish, you wash your hands and face before coming inside, and then go up to your fathers den, he is waiting for you little man, and his mood is bleak so be on your best behavior child” Warned Severus mother as he came upon her in the garden.

“Yes mam,” Severus said and then thought how best to ask the question which had been on his mind since the end of the school term. “Mother has a letter arrived for papa?” He asked gingerly.

Christina Cavendish stopped what she was doing and stared intently at her youngest son, his small angelic face gazed imploringly up at her, for she knew that he had reason to fear, her heart was heavy with sympathy for the boy, Christina had witnessed first hand the dark expression on her husbands face as he had read the boys school report. Indeed the boy would be in for it now and there was naught which she could do to help him, for her husband was in such a mind as to have the boy severely beaten and thrown from their house, given literally to that wretched man that owned the butchers house, as an apprentice butcher. At a loss for words Christina held out her arms to her little boy and pulled him into an affectionate embrace, she smoothed his silky blond hair and felt his small body tremble against her.

“Oh Severus, why o why did you not at least try?” She asked him tenderly.

It was then that Severus knew with out having to be told that his father had his report and that he waited upstairs to inflict the consequences onto him. Suddenly the dam of frustration inside Severus burst as tears streamed down his face and he tried desperately to explain to his mother.

“Mother, papa doesn’t understand, I don’t want to be a gentleman, I don’t want to work in the chandlery, and I certainly do not want to be with that pig of a butcher and become like him. I want to go to sea I want to have adventures and see the world and be my own person. One day I want to be the captain of my own ship. I don’t want to be like Marcus or James or even father for that matter.” Severus hiccupped as he ran out of words to articulate his feelings.

A solitary tear rolled down Christina cheek as she soothed the boy, she wept not only for Severus, but she wept for her own self. She was not much older than he when her father had forced her to Marry Charles Cavendish, it was expected her father had explained to her, the fact that she loved him not, did not enter into it, love would grow with time her father had said.

“Severus, my darling child, you of all my children are most like myself and for that I despair, I have never told you this before but I too was forced into a life-long situation not of my making, were it not for my three lovely boys and especially you my child, my existence would have been hell-on-earth, so unbearable. You little-one have brought sunshine into an otherwise dreary life, for it be your silly heart that I love so about you,  I see it as a quality but others such as Father O’Shea and your papa, deem it to be detrimental to your future. I do not know how I can help you, at best Sev I may be able to convince your father to postpone his decision until the end of the school year, but you have to promise me that you will try harder at school, can you do that?”

She knew that accomplishing even such a victory over her very willful husband would be no small achievement. She also thought it highly unlikely that Severus would turn things around in six months, and between the two of them they would have to make a plan for his future.

“Yes mam, I will promise you that I will try harder, but I am not Marcus or James and there is only so much I can do to please father.” Severus stated matter of fact.

Christina bade her son go back and play his games. Christina Cavendish with her mind made up and a willful persona climbed the stairs to her husbands den and knocked softly upon the solid oak door.

“Enter” Charles Cavendish replied harshly.

“Oh it’s you, my dear, sorry I was expecting the boy” He said, his voice softening a little.

“I know you were expecting him, but I have sent him to the markets, for we must discuss this matter before he returns” Christina stated as forcibly as she could.

“With due respect my dear, this is no matter for womenfolk, its best left to myself” Charles glared at Christina, intimidating her.

“With DUE respect my husband, Severus is my child also and I will not allow you to be solely responsible for making decisions regarding his future, for I fear they will not be in the boy’s manifest best interest.” Christina was resolute, for too many years she had allowed her husband to rule the roost, but now her darling boy’s future was at stake and she was determined to fight her husband unto the bitter end.

Charles glared angrily at his wife, he could not believe that the ungrateful woman standing before him, would dare to challenge his authority in such a manner. When he had married her he had saved her from a life of servitude, and to this day he believed her to be unappreciative of this fact. The boy in question, their youngest was the bane of his existence, in every way he resembled his mother, his blond hair and green eyes, his soft face and almost girlish body. Unlike his brothers, all of which had the large prominent Cavendish face, the jet black hair, dark almost black eyes and the stout build of men-of-presence, overbearing to their subordinates. Charles disliked everything about the boy, his benevolence towards the needy, his love of the sea over money, his soft girlish voice, his complete lack of interest in all matters academia, the boy would be best left where his mother should have remained, a life of servitude.

“Christina my love, my mind is quiet made up, I have spoken with Mr Allan and he has agreed to take the boy on as his apprentice, commencing two weeks from now, it’s the best thing for the boy, and I will hear no argument from you regarding this matter!”

Christina glared at him angrily. “You beast of a man, how dare you do such a thing without consulting me first, I tell you now Charles William Cavendish, that I will see us divorced before I will let that child spend one day with that brutish man” Christina shouted at him.

Divorce, didn’t seem all that bad to Charles Cavendish, ooh there would be the social stigma but it would soon pass and then he would be able to declare his love for Sara Maree his mistress, maybe this would be an opportunity to get rid of this brat and his mother once and for all, after all she no longer held any appeal to him, he thought to himself.

Christina accurately read her husband of twenty years, mind. “Oh husband yes I would gladly grant you a divorce, but not before I have spoken with my uncle Walter Taylor Esq, solicitor at law, regarding the sale of our mutual assets!” She said fixing him with a determined gaze.

Very few things in life did Charles fear, but two of them in the same sentence was simply to much for him, firstly his wife’s Uncle, and secondly the thought of loosing his hard earned wealth, it was the latter that forced him to soften his position on the matter, and after a long pause he finally spoke.

“Let us not become like this my darling, the boy simply isn’t worth this much aggravation, if he is so important to you then for you my dear I will postpone this decision until the end of the year, six months from now. But I warn you my position will remain unchanged at that time if the boy does not improve his grades and his attitude.” He threatened.

Christina was emotionally exhausted for she hated conflict of any description, she knew her victory was only a temporary one and she resolved to find a solution to this matter that would be to Severus liking, certainly not one involving Mr Allan the butcher. “Thank you Charles” was her only reply as she turned and walked towards the door.

“But Christina, I will not let this matter go completely unpunished, when the boy returns from the markets send him to me, for I fear he has an appointment with the strap” He said belligerently.

Christina considered arguing for she hated violence as much as she hated conflict but she also realized that it was a part of the compromise. “Yes Charles, but please be easy on the boy, he is not Marcus or James, he will not hold up well to a beating” she begged him, but she knew that the cruel man who she called her husband would be especially hard on the boy and Christina felt guilty because she knew it was because of her defiance that it would be so.

So it was, twenty minutes later Severus was standing fearfully before his father’s desk waiting for him to speak. Charles continued to write into his ledger, completely ignoring the boy. Severus shuffled from one foot to the other, nervously. Charles Cavendish without even looking up growled at the child, “Stand still boy and stop fidgeting” his voice devoid of any affection for the child.

“Yes father” Severus replied meekly and he stood to attention.

Finally his father looked up at him; slowly he reached for an envelope on his desk and held it out to the boy. Severus immediately recognized the letter from St Margaret’s College, and the blood drained from his face and his knees began to shake.

“Well?” growled his father still holding the envelope out.

At first Severus was unsure of his father’s intention, was he meant to take the envelope from his father and open it or was his father asking him to explain its content. “Father I can explain sir, if you just listen…” but he never got to finish his sentence as his father’s voice rebounded angrily around the room.

“I do not wish you to explain anything boy, as the letter does that most adequately, what I want for you to do is to open the letter and read it to me!” he said angrily, his patience starting to wane.

Severus reached out with trembling hands and took the letter from his father, slowly he opened it and unfolded the parchment and began to read slowly. Tears were forming in the corner of his eyes and blurring his vision so as he found it difficult to concentrate on the words written before him.

“Come now Son is your reading that bad as you can not even read your own school report?” Charles asked incredulously.

So Severus began to read, he stuttered his way through the report from Father O’Shea until gratefully he reached the last word, which he read-out-loud carefully and then slowly looked up at his father, who was staring at him angrily.

“A silly-heart, a slacker and a waster! Is that how I have brought you up son, is this the way you repay the man that has given you a gifted life, I find it difficult to believe that we are even related for I see no semblance of myself in you, or your brothers for that matter. If every family must have at least one black sheep, then boy you are surely he.” He continued on, without expecting Severus to respond.

“If it were exclusively left to me, I would have you sent off to be the apprentice of the butcher Mr Allan, but, your mother has intervened on your behalf and begged you be given one more chance, and by jove it is your last chance boy. You will go back to St Margaret’s College and YOU will succeed, or come end of term you will be packed of to Mr Allan’s do you understand me?”

For a moment Severus was confused, was he meant to answer or was he meant to remain silent, for his own personal safety he chose the latter and remained silent.

“WELL WHAT IS IT TO BE” His father shouted and knew he was meant to answer.

“Yes sir, I will try to do my best and to make you proud of me” Severus stammered.

His father’s anger ebbed only slightly as he responded. “Child I will never be proud of you for you are the disappointment of my life, but I can live with you simply succeeding and not being an embarrassment to the family”

Severus eyes filled with tears of humiliation. “Yes sir… Father may I leave now?” He asked hopefully.

His father glared at him, “I think not, did you really expect that you would get out of this despicable situation so easily? Drop your britches and bend over the desk for I am about to give you a sound thrashing that you will not soon forget.”

Severus eyes widened with horror. “But papa, please don’t, anything but that please, I will do anything you wish, just ask it, but don’t beat me” he begged pitifully.

“BEND OVER NOW CHILD” Charles yelled as he got up angrily and hit the palm of his hand hard with a riding crop, testing it.

Tears streamed down Severus face as he fumbled with the buttons on his britches and then lowered them along with his drawers, revealing his pale white buttocks. Then he braced himself against his father desk, closed his eyes and waited for the first blow to strike him. He didn’t have long to wait.

The first blow made the boy scream out in agony, and an angry red welt formed across his butt cheeks as the crop slashed down for the second time. Then the third and the fourth, each time Severus screamed out in pain, and silently he counted, around about the tenth stroke he lost count and sobbed uncontrollably, the tears forming a pool atop the open letter from Father O’Shea which he grasped firmly in his hand.

Outside in the hall, Christina Cavendish, fingernails had dug into her palms and had drawn blood. She wept for her youngest child as she heard him wail in despair as her husband continued to whip him, finally after twenty strokes she could take no more and she burst angrily through the door. ‘Charles that’s enough, stop that this instant you will scar the boy permanently if you continue, STOP” she yelled angrily at him, as she forced her way between her husband and her son, blocking his access to the boy.

The Physical exertion of beating the boy caused Sweat to run in rivulets from Charles face, the boys endless sobbing and begging had driven Charles to loose what little self control he retained, as he slashed viciously at the boys boy blood stained buttocks, He desisted only when the child’s mother burst into the room and demanded that he cease beating him, and then slowly Charles came back to his senses. Suddenly he realized he had gone way to far and he looked imploringly at his wife for sympathy but found naught other than anger and disgust, he threw the crop to the floor and stormed angrily from the room.

Charles had beaten the boy senseless. Severus lay in his mother’s arms inconsolable. Christina could not reconcile the elk of a man who could inflict such pain on a child, more so his own child. She was trying to encourage Severus to his feet when her oldest son Marcus stepped into the room.

Marcus stared disbelieving at the visage before him, downstairs he had greeted his father when he returned to the house from the chandlery. His father looked bloody awful, he was sweating from physical exertion and swearing under his breath as he stormed past Marcus slamming the door shut behind him. Marcus sighed, for he knew that almost certainly Severus would some how be involved with this calamity and he despaired both for his little brother and his father as he bound up the stairs drawn to the crying sounds he could hear emanating from fathers den.

“Oh my god, what has father done!” Marcus gasped when he saw the blood running down his little brothers legs and saw the angry red welts on his pale white buttocks, as the boy lay face down in his mother’s arms sobbing.

Christina looked at her oldest son, “Do not concern yourself with that Marcus, rather be a man of action and help me with your brother for he is badly injured, both in body and mind and he will need both our love and medical attention to his wounds so as he may not be scarred.”

Marcus had a lot of questions that he would later demand answers for, but suddenly he sighted the scrunched up, blood soaked letter from St Margaret’s College, clasped tightly in Severus small hand and he knew the answer instantly as anger towards their father threatened to consume him. He gently picked Severus up out of his mother’s arms and carried him from the room. The boy had thankfully passed out so he did not witness tears in his older brother’s eyes as he carried him to his bed chamber.

The boy descended into a hot fever, and for three days was tormented by bad dreams, pain and sickness, finally on the fourth day his fever broke and he slept fitfully. All the while his mother and older brother nursed him back to good health. But not once did his father inquire as to his well being, such was the shame he felt, for the injuries he had inflicted onto his youngest child.

Charles swore his wife and oldest son to secrecy so as that the local community would not become aware of the boys disposition, but such is often the case in small villages, word soon got out and as a result of his actions Charles Cavendish much to his disdain soon found himself ostracized by the local folk, for the boy, not unlike his mother was much liked in the community. Village folk, whether they be destitute street beggars or wealthy merchants who knew the boy from the chandlery, all loved the cheeky little rascal whom would show kindness to all, regardless of caste.

Continued in Severus stows away.

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