Captain Tory
Captain Tory
:: He swung his lantern ::
:: three times and slowly the schooner appeared ::
A fiction by:
Andy Wojnarek
Click click click (“Sigh”) click..
It was a bright and sunny day as Cecil strolled through his home city, London. He smirked as he bit into the apple he just nicked. Cecil was one of the many orphans in London. They spent their time stealing food, and usually causing mischief. He was about 8, but acted as if was 18, and that arrogant too. Only pausing to greet people he knew off the street,
“Wotcher Jet,” exclaimed Cecil.
“Oi Cecil alrigh’ there?” Grunted a muscular teenage boy he knew as Jet.
“Yeah, about to make my way over to the inlet, see if I can put the ol’ scamer-o on some rich folk.” Cecil said, with a hint of boredom in his voice.
“G’luck wit dat,” shouted Jet, “people are gettin’ less and less trustworthy.”
“Yeah tell me about it,” groaned Cecil, “I am getting caught more and more.”
“Well, I will be seein’ you later Cecil; gotta go tend to some business wit a kid who owes me some money” Growled Jet.
Cecil departed from the main streets of London, and started to make his way down to the inlet. I better get my behind down to inlet before dark, though Cecil. As he made his way down Sprute Street, he saw this Buoyant looking plump lady rushing down towards the intersection. Cecil grinned in spite of himself, and picked up some dirt and rubbed it on his face and arms. He then continued to walk in a sickly pace and purposely knocked into the lady, and purposely fell down.
“Sorry bout that ma’am,” squeaked Cecil, “I haven’t eaten in days and my vision is beginning to fail on me it seems.”
“Oh dear boy, what is your name?” asked the lady.
“Oh tis not important ma’am, I’m not quite sure I remember, but the wicked people at the orphanage called me filthy scum bag.” Said Cecil in a feigned weariness voice.
“Oh dear me, dear me!” moaned the lady, “And here I am knocking you down, when your bones are probably weaker then talc.”
Right where I want her, thought Cecil.
“Well ma’am I gots to go finds me some dumpster to sleep in before it gets all cold out.” Rambled Cecil.
With a look of pity on her face she said, “no no, go find yourself a place to sleep, here is some money.”
About ten blocks down the road, Cecil let up the act and started walking casually. What a dumb idiot, he thought. Then let out a wicked laugh. He stored the money into his pocket; he would surely use it for back end gambling or something along those lines. In the end he decided against it, he knew he had better get to the inlet before dark. Cecil waited for a bus, and watched people ride by in cars, bikes and other various ways of transportation. What I am doing.. is it right? Thought Cecil. Giving himself a Nanosecond to think, Hell yeah it’s right!
Cecil hopped on the bus and whistled slightly to himself while sitting down near the back. He looked around; it was a dingy sort of thing. Composed of about 10 rows of seats, it had chunks taken out of the seat, and it smelled like cat urine and stale tobacco. He kept his eye contact to a minimal. This was the part of town, to which the darkest and evilest types of people are born. Cecil slouched in his chair, and closed his eyes, hoping to find the salvation of sleep, before his big night of scamming.
“The Inlet, last stop,” Barked the bus driver.
Yawning Cecil said, “Oi ya hats meh I guhes.”
“Huh?” Said the bus driver.
“Oh – Yeah – That’s – me – I – Guess.” Enunciated Cecil more properly.
He got off the bus, avoiding the glare of the bus driver. Yawning slightly he made his way over to an old looking man over seeing the enchanting ocean. From the back of the head he looked and appeared to be a calm, maybe little sea wet, captain.
“Good evening sir, might you have some spare change, so I can feed my starving stomach,” Whimpered Cecil in a feigned voice.
The man turned. Instead of having that calm face, that he pictured; it was one of cruel and gnarled. His face looked as if it belonged to an elephant. It was all coarse, scabby and had portions missing here and there. The man grinned in a maniacal way and said, “Hello Cecil.. I’ve been watching you from some time.” Petrified he couldn’t say or do anything.
“You’ve been a bad little boy. Running away from a rich home, just to live on the streets and cause disorder?” Said the man in a sly voice.
“Wh-who are you??” Cecil whimpered.
“My name is Captain Tory, and every so often I come to shore, to show a public act of justice. Justice has been taken for granted lately. People like you should be shot in the face. In fact, let me show you my extravagant ship.” Said Tory.
The man proceeded to rummage through his bag, muttering to himself. “Nasty kids, must purge this fair city of them. Nasty freaks..”
“Ah HA!” Exclaimed the man known as Captain Tory, “Here it is”
He raised a lantern, and lit it. He started swinging it back and forth looking out into the inlet. Cecil was scared, and yet intrigued at the same time. He had the mad desire to run and scream for his life, and to stay here and see what this crackpot was up to. Seeing how he was no coward he thought, he would defiantly stay.
After what seemed a myriad of time to Cecil, the man stopped, and grinned.
“There she is, True-Justice, that’s her name.” Said Tory gazing out in the inlet.
Cecil gasped at what he saw; it was a huge ship, with cannons protruding from every other foot on the ship. Before he could take in to much detail, Tory started babbling. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head, and he was drooling.
“Kill this little beast crew! Take his life, cut his throat!” Shrieked Tory.
He gasped again at this new stance, and looked back at the ship. He was astonished to find that the ghastly crew was moving, and shouting. He turned to run away, before he heard a loud CRACK. He turned to find a huge iron ball being hurtled straight at him. Before he could react, it hit him straight in the chest, cutting right through him like butter. Standing there his whole body was numb; he collapsed on the ground and took his last look. He looked down to find a cavernous hole in his chest. Darkness crept up on him like a bad flu. So this is what I get, my whole life I was cruel and wicked. This is what I get. I was mean, I stole, I was wicked, so this is what I get, He thought. His whole life started to flash before his eyes…
Click
Andy turned the television off. Wll it looked as if PBS branched out a little this year, thought Andy.
