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Description
The pirate with the scarf gripped the freezing railing, staring out into the empty ocean. It was a cold a night as any in winter and he had to tug his worn navy coat tighter around his thin frame. Stars twinkled in the dark sky. Roars of laughter and snatches of shanties wove their way through the air like smoke. The pirate with the scarf could have gone and joined the rest of the crew, eating ham and laughing but seeing as they did that most nights, it didn't seem much of a celebration. And it was a day to celebrate. But not that the other pirates, mostly bred in the Caribbean and South Americas. They wouldn't understand an old Scottish tradition.
Even though he wasn't technically Scottish, the pirate with the scarf still felt a strong connection to the place where he had grown up as a child. He missed the mountains and the lochs. He missed the cattle and the heather. He missed the weather. Oh, how he dreamt of snow as the boiling sun beat down on his back! But most of all, he missed his family. His mother would always have a rosy-cheeked smile for him. His older brother, James, would always tell him stories of far-off places and read him poems from the latest Lord Byron books. His younger sister, Agnes, reading Jane Austen beside the fire. Although fleeting, his father always managed to ruffle his hair before he headed off to work at the farm.
Sighing, he watched his frozen breath puff in front of him like a dragon. Why the wind was so cold tonight was a mystery. Maybe it was a sign, a gentle reminder of what day it was. The twenty-fifth of January. Burns Night. The pirate with the scarf closed his eyes, dreaming of home. Right about now, his family (or what was left of it) would be toasting the haggis. Not to say that haggis was any better than ham, whether boiled or roasted, but he missed the flavour. If he focused hard enough, he could almost hear his father's gruff voice addressing the haggis, passion in his deep Scottish burr.
The pirate with the scarf gave a bittersweet smile. He wouldn't trade pirating for the world but sometimes, home hit him like a bullet to the heart. He had lost so much in the years it had taken him to be here but maybe, just maybe, his family here was stronger than ever before.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days auld lang syne?" He whispered, questioning the sea. It whistled back in response. This gave the pirate with a scarf confidence. He sang stronger now, hoping the crew below couldn't hear him.
"For auld lang syne, my dear; for auld lang syne.
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, for days of auld lang syne."
"We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu’d the gowans fine,
But we’ve wander’d many a weary fit
Sin’ days of auld lang syne."
His thoughts turned again to his siblings, making his eyes itch with sadness. He remebered walking along the moors, picking at the wild flowers to make a bouquet for their mother to put in the pink china jar that James had won at the fair. They weren't particularly rich but the cottage where they lived was always cool in the summer and warm in the winter. For them, that was enough.
"We twa hae paidl’t in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ days of auld lang syne."
As a child, his parents had seen him grow to love the water, paddling in the stream and relishing trips on their neighbour's fishing boat. It must have cost them many a guniea but they managed to find the money to send their middle child into the navy. James would have inheritted the farm by now and Agnes would be wed to the tavern owner's son. A few tears rolled down his cheeks. He wished he could have been at the wedding. But at that point in time, he was probably being held hostage by the very pirates he served with now.
"For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!"
"And surely ye’ll be your pint’ stoup,
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!"
At this point, he could hear footsteps coming up from below deck. Maybe it was someone coming to check on him. More likely, Kittens getting more grog for the rest of the men. And Surprisingly (Oh come on, he wasn't blind! Though it seemed everyone else was.) Wiping his eyes, the pirate with the scarf stared up at the sky. He was thousands of miles away from home on a cramped ship that had bits falling off and that was drifting in completely the wrong direction! There was no easy way to say it; he was painfully homesick.
"And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie’s a hand o’ thine,
And we’ll tak a right guid willie-waught
For auld lang syne."
"Number Two? Number Two?" The booming voice of his Captain called from just behind the smaller pirate, making him jump about two foot into the air with a squeak that rivalled that of the dying mouse below deck that Polly pecked at occassionally.
"Yuh-yes, sir??" He stuttered, trying to get his heart slower. But the Captain always made the pirate with a scarf's heart race. It must have been something to do with his beard. Or his eyes. Those beautiful oak brown eyes that seemed to stare into his soul. Shaking his head, the pirate with the scarf tried to distract himself from such thoughts. They weren't normal.
"That was a very pretty song. I liked it." The Pirate Captain flashed his first mate a grin that almost made the smaller pirate's heart stop. He looked so dashing when he did that, ready for anything that the world threw at him. It turned his cheeks pink.
"Thank you. It comes from my home."
"What, Narnia?" The Pirate Captain's eyes glittered. Sighing, the pirate with the scarf shook his head. Drooping slightly, the Pirate Captain peered into his first mate's face.
"I say, Two, why are your cheeks wet? I would say you've been crying but that's a girly thing. And you're not a girl; you made sure I knew that."
"Yeah I know." He stared out into the thrashing ocean, feeling his heartstrings do the same. But like a calming breeze, he felt it settle when the Captain clutched his hand. A small smile graced his weepy face.
"Happy New Year, Captain."
"Happy New Year, Number Two."

Description
The pirate with the scarf gripped the freezing railing, staring out into the empty ocean. It was a cold a night as any in winter and he had to tug his worn navy coat tighter around his thin frame. Stars twinkled in the dark sky. Roars of laughter and snatches of shanties wove their way through the air like smoke. The pirate with the scarf could have gone and joined the rest of the crew, eating ham and laughing but seeing as they did that most nights, it didn't seem much of a celebration. And it was a day to celebrate. But not that the other pirates, mostly bred in the Caribbean and South Americas. They wouldn't understand an old Scottish tradition.
Even though he wasn't technically Scottish, the pirate with the scarf still felt a strong connection to the place where he had grown up as a child. He missed the mountains and the lochs. He missed the cattle and the heather. He missed the weather. Oh, how he dreamt of snow as the boiling sun beat down on his back! But most of all, he missed his family. His mother would always have a rosy-cheeked smile for him. His older brother, James, would always tell him stories of far-off places and read him poems from the latest Lord Byron books. His younger sister, Agnes, reading Jane Austen beside the fire. Although fleeting, his father always managed to ruffle his hair before he headed off to work at the farm.
Sighing, he watched his frozen breath puff in front of him like a dragon. Why the wind was so cold tonight was a mystery. Maybe it was a sign, a gentle reminder of what day it was. The twenty-fifth of January. Burns Night. The pirate with the scarf closed his eyes, dreaming of home. Right about now, his family (or what was left of it) would be toasting the haggis. Not to say that haggis was any better than ham, whether boiled or roasted, but he missed the flavour. If he focused hard enough, he could almost hear his father's gruff voice addressing the haggis, passion in his deep Scottish burr.
The pirate with the scarf gave a bittersweet smile. He wouldn't trade pirating for the world but sometimes, home hit him like a bullet to the heart. He had lost so much in the years it had taken him to be here but maybe, just maybe, his family here was stronger than ever before.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days auld lang syne?" He whispered, questioning the sea. It whistled back in response. This gave the pirate with a scarf confidence. He sang stronger now, hoping the crew below couldn't hear him.
"For auld lang syne, my dear; for auld lang syne.
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, for days of auld lang syne."
"We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu’d the gowans fine,
But we’ve wander’d many a weary fit
Sin’ days of auld lang syne."
His thoughts turned again to his siblings, making his eyes itch with sadness. He remebered walking along the moors, picking at the wild flowers to make a bouquet for their mother to put in the pink china jar that James had won at the fair. They weren't particularly rich but the cottage where they lived was always cool in the summer and warm in the winter. For them, that was enough.
"We twa hae paidl’t in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ days of auld lang syne."
As a child, his parents had seen him grow to love the water, paddling in the stream and relishing trips on their neighbour's fishing boat. It must have cost them many a guniea but they managed to find the money to send their middle child into the navy. James would have inheritted the farm by now and Agnes would be wed to the tavern owner's son. A few tears rolled down his cheeks. He wished he could have been at the wedding. But at that point in time, he was probably being held hostage by the very pirates he served with now.
"For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!"
"And surely ye’ll be your pint’ stoup,
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!"
At this point, he could hear footsteps coming up from below deck. Maybe it was someone coming to check on him. More likely, Kittens getting more grog for the rest of the men. And Surprisingly (Oh come on, he wasn't blind! Though it seemed everyone else was.) Wiping his eyes, the pirate with the scarf stared up at the sky. He was thousands of miles away from home on a cramped ship that had bits falling off and that was drifting in completely the wrong direction! There was no easy way to say it; he was painfully homesick.
"And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie’s a hand o’ thine,
And we’ll tak a right guid willie-waught
For auld lang syne."
"Number Two? Number Two?" The booming voice of his Captain called from just behind the smaller pirate, making him jump about two foot into the air with a squeak that rivalled that of the dying mouse below deck that Polly pecked at occassionally.
"Yuh-yes, sir??" He stuttered, trying to get his heart slower. But the Captain always made the pirate with a scarf's heart race. It must have been something to do with his beard. Or his eyes. Those beautiful oak brown eyes that seemed to stare into his soul. Shaking his head, the pirate with the scarf tried to distract himself from such thoughts. They weren't normal.
"That was a very pretty song. I liked it." The Pirate Captain flashed his first mate a grin that almost made the smaller pirate's heart stop. He looked so dashing when he did that, ready for anything that the world threw at him. It turned his cheeks pink.
"Thank you. It comes from my home."
"What, Narnia?" The Pirate Captain's eyes glittered. Sighing, the pirate with the scarf shook his head. Drooping slightly, the Pirate Captain peered into his first mate's face.
"I say, Two, why are your cheeks wet? I would say you've been crying but that's a girly thing. And you're not a girl; you made sure I knew that."
"Yeah I know." He stared out into the thrashing ocean, feeling his heartstrings do the same. But like a calming breeze, he felt it settle when the Captain clutched his hand. A small smile graced his weepy face.
"Happy New Year, Captain."
"Happy New Year, Number Two."