In the Beginning [USUK]

“Captain, our men are low on food. The last storm took the last of the grain...”
“What about my scones?”
“I'm afraid those are gone too, sir.”
The captain sat back against his chair and scowled. “Those were my favourite too.” He sighed. “No matter; stay on course. His Majesty ordered us to find the gold that Spain found on the New World and deliver it back to Britain, therefore, we shall do it. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain,” the sailor saluted and hurried to the deck to deliver new orders.
Tossing his compass from one hand to the other, the captain lifted himself from his desk and walked to the map hanging on the wall. The Age of Discovery was raging and Europe was determined to gain more power. Of course, this map wasn't exactly accurate; there were parts of the New World that haven't been explored, let alone discovered.
“Bloody Spain... taking all the gold he wants. Ha, well surely where my king and I chose to colonize, there will be vast amounts of gold... buried beneath the land...” The captain continued to mumble to himself, scratching the golden compass with his index finger. “Great Britain will become the biggest empire the world has ever known. I'll kick that frog's ass out of life, conquer most of Asia, own the The World, and Bob's your uncle~!” He grinned and scribbled out France on the map with his pen. “Good riddance, bloody French.”
Turning around on his heel, he swiftly walked to his cabin door and up the stairs. The sun was beginning to set in the horizon ahead, and the waters were rocking the ship at a slight angle. Strolling to the bow, he twirled his sword –that was resting to his side hip –with a finger. It was specially used to stab France when he got too close, but before, it was his –the British Empire's – pirate sword. Sadly, his teenage youth of pirating was mostly over, and now exploring was the key to success.
“Oi, you there! The strange red-head with the trousers falling halfway down his bottom,” he called to the sailor tying the mast into cruising position for night.
He looked up from his work and jumped at the sight of his captain. “C-captain Kirkland, sir. How are you this fine evening?” His hand gripped the rope tightly, trying to salute with the other.
“Very well, thank you,” the captain nodded. “I presume the crew is prepared to land soon. According to the birds that are casually drifting by, land must be near...” He paused and looked up at the mast. “Oh pish posh; don't loosen the sails, you daft!” He took the rope from the ginger and pulled it with no effort at all to the loop. “If we're by land, we want to get there quickly.”
The ship jerked forward with the sudden gust of wind and sent the men working to the the ground. The captain stayed firmly in place, not moving an inch by the speed of the mighty boat.
“Arthur!” A loud voice called from the secondary cabin. Arthur looked back to the sailor and politely smiled.
“If you'll excuse me.” He tipped his hat and walked to the stairway leading downstairs, leaving a very baffled youth behind.
Arthur Kirkland opened the door beside his quarters. “Yes, Governor?” His eyes flickered solemnly to the elder looking man before him.
“What was that? I nearly spilt my tea all over His Majesty's letter!” He set his cup down on his desk and lightly picked up a paper signed with the Royal Seal. “You didn't tell me the king sent the letter to you.” He waved the address in front of the captain's face.
Arthur took the letter and neatly smoothed it out.
For England of Great Britain.
Only addressing Arthur would the king be so casual. The messy blond scanned the first couple words and scowled. “What is this rubbish? I thought we were just gathering gold and getting the lands ready for colonization. He's saying that we're going to have to get rid of the natives? What happened to just pushing them further West?” He set down the paper and pulled a chair from the wall to the front of the Governor's desk.
The man was staring out the window, back to the nation and fiddling with a dart in his hands. “It doesn't seem to matter what we do with the natives. Make peace, make them run, sell them, kill them; what purpose should they give us anyway? Just a bunch of savages.”
Arthur bore green eyes into the back of his current boss's head. “I do want to become the world's greatest power, but it doesn't necessarily mean to murder the New World's people. We don't know anything about the land, its people, its properties.” He stood up from his chair, hands on the table. “Why not teach them the way of civilization? Teach them not to be savages –”
“Do you think they'll listen to us? To you? Please, England, you'll be wasting your time,” the governor snorted, turning back around and throwing the dart at the wall directly behind the blond's head. “Just listen to your orders and do what you're told.”
England stared at his boss and debated whether to punch him out the window and leave him to drown or not. But he figured that it would leave a giant, gaping hole in the stern and that would end badly. He dug his nails easily into the wooden polished desk in front of him and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Yes, sir.”
There was an awkward silence between the both of them and a fight of green eyes versus a dull hazel. If a voice hadn't rang through the ship, there would be two dried out, pairs of eyes.
“Land, ho!”
Arthur's eyes flickered upward and he twirled on his toe, ignoring the man before him, and ran out the door. The deck was wild with working men, tying down the mass and gathering supplies. The captain ran along the edge of the ship, staring ahead at the mass of land in front of him. The long, white beaches with forests and mountains and land. So. Much. Land.
It was nightfall by the time the ship reached a safe docking point on the bay's shallow ends of the Atlantic. Anchor was drawn and tossed off the bow and lanterns were lit around the ship. The nation still hadn't looked away from the great land that lay all around them. Sailors sat down and ate what was left of the food supply, leaving the governor worried that there would be no edible food on this land.
Finally tearing his gaze away, Arthur walked into his quarters, shutting the door behind him and listening to the click of the lock. Sliding his heavy coat off, he tossed it over the head of his chair and set his sword gently down on the desk. The boots were thrown into a corner and a loose, white shirt was unbuttoned and laid on the foot of the bed. Arthur rubbed his hungry stomach and fell onto the bed, too tired to remove his trousers and change into his nightgown. Mumbling incoherent words into his pillow, he threw the blankets over his body and waited for the New World's night dreams to take him.

He awoke to a banging on his door. Slowly, he opened his eyes only to close them again with a blinding sun blaring through the windows. Pushing off the blankets and sleepiness from his body, he put on new trousers and boots, wrapping the sword loop around his waist and leaving behind his heavy Captain coat.
“I'm up. What is it?” He leaned against the door and rested his head on the frame.
“The governor would like to see you. We're prepared to exit the boat, sir,” the voice replied. “We'll be gathering wood to make camp...” There was a quiet pause. “What shall we do if any savages approach?”
The nation frowned on the word. Savages. “Take it into defense,” he finally said. “Don't attack unless they do.”
“The governor said to shoot them.”
Arthur opened the door to stare at the red-headed sailor. “Then why did you ask me, you git?” He slid by the boy and proceeded to walk up the stairs, holding a straight face when sunlight hit his eyes in an unfamiliar angle.
The ginger followed suit, running up to catch up with the blond leader. “You're the captain on this voyage, sir. It's your rules.”
The Brit slowed to a stop and turned around. “What is your name, sailor? Where in Europe do you hail from?”
The young man removed his cap and smiled. “My name is Conner, sir. Conner Bisswal. I'm from a large family on the Eastern coast of Ireland.” His face turned red as the captain continued to stare at him, studying his features.
“Hmm,” Arthur murmured and nodded. “Shame... it would have been nice if you were one of mine...” He said quietly, walking off to the edge of the ship. “Well, come along then, Conner. We have work to do.” He climbed into a row boat and gestured to the oars. “Conner...?”
The Irishman blinked and hurried over, jumping into the small raft. “Aye!” He lowered the two men into the water and rowed to the strange beach that no European had stepped on before. “Look here... the fish swim so close in the shallow water...” Conner rambled on about the surroundings they pulled to shore.
“Arthur,” the governor called, walking over. “I can smell the gold already; mountains of it! His Majesty will be so pleased!” Arthur looked at him like he was mental.
“Sir, if you don't mind, I think it would be best if the men built camp first and gathered food supplies. There's no need for you to go arse over tit over something we can get any time now that we're here. Now, as I was informed, you needed something?” Arthur crossed his arms and leaned on one foot, inpatient and wanting to explore.
“Err, yes. Do you have the flag?”
Arthur reached into his satchel and pulled out a neatly folded, clean, Union Flag. “This is personally mine, so if you go so as drop it, I will baste you into the sand, understood, you nob?” He glared at the man as he carefully handed him his flag.
The governor took the flag and quickly walked away, shouting orders to the men to gather wood and build a fort to protect them against “savages.”
Arthur sat in the sand for a while, watching the unfamiliar waves crash into the unfamiliar rocks, surrounding the unfamiliar trees. It's soft... His hand gently grazed through the white coast as he laid down to stare up at  the clear blue sky. It's not like this in London either... He watched seagulls as they landed around the ship's sails, investigating the new source of landing space.
His thoughts and daydreams were interrupted by a loud rumble. Arthur sat up and clutched his stomach. “Ugh, bloody hell...” He rolled himself up and looked to the woods. I suppose a quick look around wouldn't hurt... His hand slowly rested on his sword as he walked into the gap between towers of trees.