Clé tenderly pressed his hand to the point of impact Maat's boot had made with his head and pulled himself up to face the direction of Nelly's voice. Despite his body's movement upward, his blood was heavier; it left his head and pooled in his feet. He was lightheaded and seeing stars. Clé felt himself swaying; he held his breath until the darkness receded. His sight returned, but his relief was cut short, as he suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of a Colt Single Action Army revolver.

The Single Action Army, known popularly as the Peacemaker, the Peacekeeper, or the Equalizer, was a .45 caliber six-shooter of cavalry legend. Prized for its accuracy and power, it was the favored side arm of legendary pioneers, cowboys, and bandits alike. This particular piece was elaborately engraved in magnolias and arabesques, bestowing a touch of elegance and delicacy on a beast of hot lead.
But none of this mattered much to Clé at the moment-- he was more concerned with the fact that it was Nelly's finger on the trigger. Seeing his face in the sights, she recoiled, frightened; lowering the gun, she burst into tears and threw her arms around Clé.

Searching what memories he had intact, Clé could not recall ever having a crying girl clinging to him. In fact, he was surprised to realize, he could not conjure any memory of a crying girl over the age of three. He was completely at a loss for what to do. Standing stiffly and looking like an idiot did not seem to be helping at all, so he gently patted her head and mumbled alternate words of comfort and confusion.
Slowly, Nelly sniffed and wiped her eyes, hiccuping something apologetic. Exhaling deeply, she regained some portion of her composure, spun the revolver expertly around her trigger finger, and aimed it at the pirates, who had been admiring a scene of what they took to be loving reunion.
“Now, who's going to tell me what is going on?” Nelly passed the gun from one target to the next. Nobody dared speak.
Smutje slipped out of the hold (actually the room under the stairs) to join his crew mates, and whispered cautiously that the prisoner had a hidden weapon. Captain whispered back that they already knew that, thank-you-very-much, and that it was staring them down at that very moment. Smutje suddenly wished he had not left the hold.  
“An answer, please.” Nelly repeated.
“We are the most infamous and greatly feared pirates across the countryside,” Captain bellowed proudly. “We sail the waves of grain, and farmers everywhere tremble at the sight of our sails. Our plundering has been so successful, in fact, that we couldn't find any more disused farm equipment to sell, so we decided it was time for bigger adventures. So we decided to take a hostage."
"You're broke and so you decided to try kidnapping?" Nelly repeated in disbelief. "What on earth made you think that was a good plan?"
"It was a daring act of piracy," Maat replied, somewhat doubtfully. Nelly patiently waited for an explanation that made better sense.
Captain sighed. "I don't see what it matters. We can steal, kidnap, pillage and plunder all we want. Even if we get caught, the law sees us as minors, and we'll have clean records once we turn eighteen." He shot a challenging look to Nelly, then to Clé. Much to his surprise, Clé accepted the challenge by grabbing him by the front of his vest and punching him square in the face.
Captain dropped to his knees and pinched his bloodied nose. "Shit! What the hell was that f--"
"You think that a clean record will make it all go away?" Clé stared down at him in rage and disgust. "Your record doesn't mean anything. If you get arrested and serve time in prison, do you think you'll come out as if nothing happened?"
"Sure, what the hell do you know?" Captain stuffed his bandana into one nostril to stop the bleeding. Nelly winced and motioned something akin to applying pressure to the wound and leaning forward, but was more interested in allowing this conversation to continue than in administering proper first aid.
"You want to know about prison? I went in as a minor, and spent seven years locked up. I was supposed to be released when I turned eighteen, but there was another infraction and I was sentenced another three years. Even if I had been released, by that time I was involved in a gang and had wasted my adolescence in lock-up. There is no piece of paper can give all that back." Clé paused and lowered his voice to a less menacing volume. He did not dare look at Nelly. "Now do yourselves a favor and cut the shit. I don't feel like talking to the police, so consider this a favor. I can guarantee it will be the last one you get if you keep this up."
Maat looked at Captain and Smutje, who held steadfast in silence. Fearing they would ruin this chance and say something stupid, she stood and addressed their victims. "Thank you sir! I promise we won't--" her voice cracked and she began crying despite herself. It surprised her-- she had idea how much Clé's warnings had scared her until it all came pouring out in tears and snot down her face. She had joined the pirate gang to get away from friends who talked behind her back and a family that didn't seem to care. She wanted freedom and people she could trust, people who would see the value in herself that she had become blind to. She did not want to go to jail; she did not want to prove everyone right; she did not want to lose these friends. Unable to get a word through her sobs, she kicked Smutje to finish for her. Frightened by her sudden outburst of emotion and sorry that he was sober while witnessing it, Smutje conveyed her thanks and apologies in hopes it would calm her down.
Captain, on the other hand, never took his eyes off of Clé. He knew what little promise his future held, and he knew authority well enough to hate it. He did not know what Clé was up to.
"I don't get it," he spouted suddenly. "After what we did and everything we put you through, you're just going to walk away?"
"Captain..." Maat sniffed and whispered carefully.
"No, what's that supposed to be about? You're right, the police don't just forgive and forget so simply, so why are you pretending to?"
"I'm not forgetting, and I haven't decided yet on forgiveness. Those things won't matter, anyway, until you want them. I'm giving you a second chance."
"Why?"
Clé shook his head and turned to lead Nelly from the ship."Because I'm not about to be the one to send you all through that hell."

"Nelly my dear," Clé exclaimed in his best proper accent as they reached the edge of town. "I hope that you are not still sleepy!"
Nelly raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Why so?"
"Because I must visit the bar for a very stiff drink."
"I most certainly concur."