On the island, the sun didn’t so much rise as it just slowly turned up the brightness in the sky and then left to hang out somewhere warmer and less cloudy. It had started to do so again on that particular day. Usually, this didn’t bother Ace very much, because being bothered by the sunrise was one of those things deeply unpleasant people did, but on that particular day, they were a little more apprehensive. The most important reason for this was that they had planned to be awake at least a few hours before that.

They leapt out of bed and got dressed as quickly as possible and grabbed the bag that had most of their stuff in it. Ace was the kind of person who liked to travel light, although that would be doing a disservice to the fact that they also enjoyed living light, sleeping light and just sort of having a general light-ness overall. Stuff just weighed them down, so the bag was mostly clothes. They’d heard once about stories of orphans who had a special, sacred keepsakes to remember their parents by, but Ace’d had no such luck. By all accounts, their parents had been just as dull as anything on the island. 

They hurried down the stairs and onto the street, making their way to the harbour. The morning fog made it hard to see much, but at least it wasn’t the pea-soup it had been the previous day. Their legs pumping, they arrived at the docks in time to see that the Siren Song was still there and they breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone was busy hauling something or other -- it was clear Captain Maria had bought provisions -- and they had a few more minutes at least before they were going to leave. Maria Abbott himself was talking to the harbormaster, a stocky figure who existed in that kind of space in your head that told you this person was going to be grumpily selling you something greasy. Currently, they were in a heated debate about the payment for the goods, and for the manpower Maria had commandeered upon arriving. Apparently the harbormaster was more than a little peeved that the cargo was being loaded onto the ship before payment, and it was making his head redder than usual. His moustache trembled as he tried not to yell. 

Ace had done their best to keep out of his way for most of their life and did so again that morning, slipping past both with a wave to their captain. Tall Tom waved them a good morning and took their bag over from them.

“I’ll get that to your cot, and I’ll show it to you when we set sail, all right, Ace? We leave in just a minute.” 

Ace nodded. They put their hands in their pockets to warm them for a second as they turned around, looking for some cargo to help load, when several things happened at once. The first thing was that they noticed the lack of pearl in their pocket. They remembered, suddenly incredibly vividly, putting next to their bed to avoid forgetting it, which has happened to most people and is considered one of life’s great comedic ironies by people who haven’t recently experienced it. 

Immediately, they began running, but I want you, dear reader, to imagine this moment as if it is running incredibly slowly. Ace had broken out into a sprint and had just jumped past the harbormaster and was about to pass Maria Abbot. In slow motion, as if everyone was moving through syrup, Captain Maria produced from behind his back a single shot pistol. Ace didn’t slow down because they were barely registering what was happening and in that moment, the most important thing in the world was the pearl on their bedside table. But the voice in the back of their head that usually said things along the lines of ‘Hey, see that fish? That’s an interesting looking fish’, was now screaming at the top of its lungs. Alarm bells were going off. 

Time resumed and the world was deafened by the complete absence of a gunshot. Ace didn’t have the time to look behind them as they sprinted up the docks. Behind them, they heard Tall Tom’s voice yell their name, but Ace couldn’t slow down. The wooden ‘thunk thunk thunk’ of the boardwalk gave way as they hit the ‘splap splap splap’ of the mud road. The muscles in their legs had protested slightly at their abuse so early in the morning when they’d run downhill towards the harbor, but now that they were making their way up the hill their complaints were getting louder, and their lungs had decided to join in as well. They refused to slow down, however. Whatever happened next, the pearl was important, and they weren’t going to be leaving without it. 

The door that led to the stair was just an obstacle, they thought, as they slammed their shoulder into it and the old, shabby lock splintered into a thousand pieces. The stairs they’d climbed every day were suddenly much too high and every step was more exhausting than the last. At the top, they didn’t give themself the time to catch their breath, and ran over to the night stand, grabbed the pearl on it, and stuffed it deep and secure in their pocket, under the small rag they used as a handkerchief. It was secure and safe for what came next, which was, of course, the third time they were going to run the gauntlet that day. 

Through the door and down the stairs, old wood protesting with every footfall. The owner of the house stood in the doorway, dismaying over the broken lock, but Ace didn’t have the time to stop or explain and rushed past them back onto the street. Taking exactly one second to catch their breath, ignoring the shouting from behind them, they looked in the direction of the harbor. A yellow-ish glow indicated the rising sun from that direction. They hoped that a gunshot would have been loud enough to echo over the town instead of being muffled by the fog, that there wouldn’t be a full-blown fight between the people of the town and the crew of the Siren Song. 

Only one way to find out, Ace thought. This was technically incorrect, as they could hypothetically just wait in their room and then just ask someone later that day what had happened at the docks, but right at that moment, Ace would not have listened if you’d told them that. To Ace, there really was only one way to find out, only one choice, and that was to coil up and release, firing themself downhill, legs firing like pistons, lungs burning with the need for more oxygen, ignoring the many ways their body was telling them to take it a bit slower, fueled exclusively by adrenalin and an intense need to get out. 

Ace had wanted to leave the town several times before, of course. But they had no idea that the world out there could be more or better, so what would be the point in leaving. The other problem, other than a lack of a clear goal, was opportunity. Now that they’d found a place where they felt like they belonged somewhere, and that they had the opportunity to leave, the urge to do so had become stronger. Now that this opportunity was about to depart without them, the urge to leave had become a need, and that need was being turned into raw horsepower as they thundered downhill.

They skidded onto the docks in time to see that the Siren Song was…

Not there.

Ace stopped, their breathing raw and ragged. The ship had left, without a shot fired. Without Ace. 

There was a crowd of people at the end of the pier, all shouting. Then, very faintly, Ace saw the outline of a mast disappear in the fog, and they resumed their mad dash. People heard Ace approaching and, afraid of being tackled off the end of the dock by what was clearly one of those angry and disrespectful youths the older townspeople liked to complain about, they jumped to the side. 

Ace was rapidly running out of wood to push themself off of, and as they reached the plank that marked the very outer edge of the harbor, they leapt.

In a perfect swan dive, they hit the water. The previous day’s experience had prepared them for the cold, and this time they weren’t swimming for altruistic reasons, or dragging someone behind them. It is common for people to look down on selfishness, but it can be a powerful motivator. Doing something because you know it’s your destiny, and not someone else’s, because you were made to be right here and now, can be an source of energy that most people never get to experience. The cold water rushed over them and they ignored the cold shock response, ready and expecting it this time. Refusing to let the urge to inhale overtake them, they immediately swam as fast they could. 

Ace wasn’t very good at a lot of things, but that was actually okay. Most nineteen year olds are utterly useless at pretty much everything, and in that, Ace was completely unique. Ace had one thing they were very good at. Archibald was an amazing swimmer. Slowly but certainly, the vague shape in the mist started to become defined and outlined, until the Siren Song began to appear before them. Ace had already closed the distance between themself and the ship considerably and seeing their own progress just made them redouble their efforts. 

As the ship drifted within audible range, Ace heard the shouting of the crew. It sounded like someone had spotted them, but they couldn’t afford to paddle in place. For one thing, they feared that stopping would allow them to properly feel the cold as it was seeping into their clothes. Right now, the aggressive punishment they were dealing to their limbs was being received as heat, and their skin pricked warmly. They feared that, given a second to properly realize the situation they were in, they’d probably feel the exhaustion and the cold all at once. They’d never heard of the word adrenalin before, but if they had, they’d be aware that running out of it would be a death sentence.

So they swam, keeping a bit of distance to the ship so as not to get sucked under in its wake. They heard Tall Tom’s voice say something, then heard them curse loudly, and then laugh heartily. Ace didn’t get the joke, and their brain was already shutting down non-essential functions like thinking, so as to keep the body moving. The arms went forward like this. The face went like that. The legs did the kick thing. Ace was running completely on automatic, and it was only due to the impact that they noticed the water next to them being disturbed. 

“PffHoly… Hells it is cold!” They heard Tom sputter in their ear, before a large strong arm was being wrapped around their waist. This sent a signal to their brain that the swimming motions needed to stop and they went limp. With a significant amount of ‘Heave’ and a decent number of ‘Ho’ they were slowly pulled out of the water. Ace had never felt so heavy in their life. Their limbs felt like they were made of lead that had been dropped from a mile up. Their head hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. They were lowered onto the deck, and slowly their vision unblurred itself, and they looked into the grinning face of Tall Tom, who was dripping with ice-cold seawater.

“You’re absolutely mad, Ace,” he laughed. “Welcome aboard the Siren Song.”

Ace smiled back, and it was genuine. They were aboard the ship. They’d made it. Ace wondered if they were a pirate now. A thought hit them before the train that was unconsciousness slammed into them, and they put their hand in their pocket. The softness of the pearl touched their fingers, and Ace fell into the warm sea of sleep with a broad smile on their face.