The captains speech droned on; Robert Eavesham ignored him. He'd heard this speech hundreds of times from God-knows-how-many captains (most of which were finer captains than this fop, parading like a proud gamecock) Very few of the men ever talked to him, and those that did only ever knew him as "Lucky Rob". Had they known him better, they would understand why he detested that name. He first set foot on a ship on his seventh birthday. His father had sold him to a merchant captain to settle a debt that amounted to little over thirty pounds. The captain was a cruel bastard, always seeking reasons to beat the child He never once cried. This always unnerved the man. Nonetheless, the captain was determined to make a fine seaman out of this whelp. By age ten he'd become an expert deckhand. By age thirteen he'd learned more about sailing than many men learn in a lifetime. At age fifteen Robert joined the royal navy at the great rage of the drunkard captain that had spent so many years teaching him. The captain spent most of the night beating him with his cane even as he heard ribs cracking and joints breaking. He never cried. At age seventeen during a training exercise on a very small warship a cannon below decks backfired. Six seamen were killed in the explosion and twelve more in the subsequent fire, and a quarter of the below decks burned. Robert was the only survivor of the gunning crew, escaping with burns to his arms; he never cried. How did he survive? "Lucky, I guess." After that he was known as "Lucky Rob". For the next twenty-two years "Lucky Rob" became an expert warrior and even more superior seaman than those that commanded him. Those that realized this trusted him; those that didn't, feared him. He was always the first into battle. The first to board a ship, the last to give in. He was wounded countless times. He's been shot, cut, crushed, hung, and beaten. He always survived. "Lucky" he guessed. Never he cried. He fought in fifty-three battles under seven captains on four different ships. Of those fifteen years he spent a total of eight months on land. His home was the sea. He wanted to be nowhere other than the deck of a ship. That is, until he met Rebecca. She was much younger than him and the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on. He found himself reluctant to ship out (the first time that he'd EVER felt that) After six months or courting, they married. "Lucky" he guessed. Now his home was with her and wherever she may be. For the next eight years he did everything he could to learn to be a farmer in a small village in the Welsh countryside with her family. He never amounted to anything more than a piss-poor one; but he was with her, so he was happy. Then, she gave him a daughter, Emma. He didn't cry; he only smiled and held them both as close as he could. They were happy, and in love and they were a family. Eight years passed... then the fever came. First Emma had it, than Rebecca, then Rob, then two-third of the village. Rob was the only survivor. "Lucky" they guessed. He buried the two of them side by side under the tree behind their field. He wouldn't be back. He cried... So now he finds himself back aboard a ship readying to sail into battle. How he talked his way past the officer who said he was too old, he doesn't know. "Lucky" he guesses. How he was assigned the first boarding party, he doesn't know. "Lucky" he guesses. How they managed to locate their quarry in less than two weeks, he doesn't know. "Lucky" he guesses. The battle begins, and all "Lucky Rob" can think, is that he hopes his luck will soon run out..... Thanks for reading my crappy story!