The pirate flag hung at the top of the mast, snapping in the sea breeze.
The skull's eye sockets were hollow, like two bottomless holes.
The red heart in the center contracted and expanded as the flag curled in the wind, like a heart dug out and nailed to the fabric.
The Alvida Pirates.
Iron Mace Alvida.
In the weak waters of the East Blue, that name meant multiple sunken merchant ships, seven pillaged villages and towns, and a spiked club in a fat woman's hand that could smash people, bones and all, into fragments.
The flag shuddered in the wind, and the corners of the skull's mouth seemed to curl upward.
"Help. Someone, please save me."
Koby huddled in the shadows in a corner by the ship's rail.
He drew his shoulders in as tightly as he could, his back bent like a bow, his knees almost touching his chest.
He held a mop taller than his entire body, its head soaking in a bucket of dirty water that gave off the sour stink of fermented seawater.
Playing cards lay scattered across the deck.
Three pirates sat around the capstan, their sleeves rolled up to their elbows, exposing rough arms.
A few coins and half a bottle of ale looted from the last village lay before them. Ale trickled down from the bottle's mouth, leaving a pale brown streak on the deck.
An iron bucket came flying.
Koby did not dodge. Not because he did not want to, but because he knew a second one would follow if he did.
The iron bucket struck his shoulder blade with a dull clang.
The dirty water inside splashed over half his body and ran down his cheek.
He did not wipe it away.
"Little good-for-nothing! Hurry up! Mop the deck, then