I stood by the plank as burly men carrying crates walked up and down the boardwalk. The captain of the ship finally noticed me and staggered up to my nervous form.

“What’s yer buisness, son?” His voice was rough like sandpaper scratching against a table.
“I want to join your crew,” I replied, in a voice I hoped didn’t sound as upper class as my upbringing.
The captain let out a raucous laugh that almost made me flinch. “You want to join me crew?”
“Sir!”
“Well, yu’ll ’ave to prove yer worth… and yer – dedication.” He said the last word with a sly grin that made my insides squirm. “This ship requires blood payment.”

I paused before boldly (I hoped) replying, “How much?”
“Oh, only a cut across the hand, binding your blood with mine.”

It didn’t sound so bad, not when I was one cut away from my dream of roaming the seas. My voice could change, my strength could build, but while my father was hanging pirates, I had always wanted to become one.
This was my chance.