So, this is my first story. To summarize it better, it is the story of my OC Nicole, and her stories. It takes place a few years before Pirates of the Caribbean, around the time that James is the Lieutenant we see him as at the beginning of the first movie. We'll say that he is around 22, just because it makes the most sense to have him that age, to me. At the start of the story, he is a few years younger than that, at around the age of 16.
Enough of that, though. Enjoy!
Disclaimer- I do not own James. I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I do, however, own anything that is not recognizable. It's a start.
Swift breezes plucked at my ponytail, sending stray hairs flipping around my face and ears. Giggling, I tried to push them out of the way, only to have more fall into the vacated space. Finally giving up, I just let them hang there. I was currently situated at the prow of the ship, hanging on with an iron grip to the mermaid shaped figurehead adorning the wood there. Next to me was my best friend, James, a wide smile plastered on his face, teeth bright and shinning in his mess of brown hair.
"Amazing, isn't it?" He was saying, glancing in my general direction before looking back towards the sea.
"Yeah. It's so much more… vivid, when you see it from this angle." I said, staring down at the water. I could practically feel the liquid lapping over my face, the salt stinging my nose. It was, as James put it, amazing. I sighed, closing my eyes as the wind whipped up and around me, tickling my skin with it's cooling air.
"Thank you. I wonder why I haven't ever been told you could do this?" I asked, opening my eyes again and looking towards James, staring at him pointedly. I had a feeling that we weren't, in fact, aloud to be here.
"Well, uhm, about that…"
"We aren't supposed to do this, are we?" I asked, glaring at him.
"Nope!" I was ready to snap at him, but I realized it wasn't him that had spoke. Gulping, I looked up, coming face to face with the comments originator.
"Hey, dad…" I said, giving him a winning smile.
"Hello, Nicole. Care to tell me what your doing?" my father, George, said, giving me an equally as vibrant smile.
"Erm, practicing being the figurehead?" I replied lamely, smiling awkwardly.
"Really, how's that working for you?" he asked.
"Great, really good! I think I've got it!" I said, nodding my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see James doing the same, gracing dad with a smile of his own.
"That's great. Now, get up here, before I drag you by your ears." The smile was gone, out of both his voice and his face. Hanging my head, I climbed back up the railing, jumping over and landing in front of him.
"Now, tell me what you were really doing down there. We've got a perfectly good figurehead, we don't need you as a stand-in." Dad said, glaring at me. Even though he was several inches shorter than me, I was terrified.
"James told me about how amazing it was being there, that close to the water, and I wanted to try it myself. He showed me how to hold on, and… you know the rest." I said, sadly lowering my eyes.
"James, is this true?" Dad asked, turning his attention to the boy next to me.
"Yes sir, I take full responsibility." James replied, hands behind his back and head lowered in shame. That was what was great about James, he never backed out on you.
"Well, thank you for fessing up. You still need punished, though. That was a very stupid and dangerous thing to do. I think a full scrub of the deck is in order, and hopefully next time you will think of it when you decide to hang off the front of the ship again. Are we clear?" Both James and I nodded, both inwardly groaning. We hated cleaning, but we wouldn't dare voice it aloud.
"Good, you know where everything is." Dad said, before dismissing us.
"Thanks for backing me up back there." I whispered to James, going below decks.
"I'm afraid it wouldn't matter either way. We both still have to clean that blasted deck. I surprised that the wood hasn't worn away with the all the scrubbing we do." James joked, poking me in the side.
"You'd think we'd learn." I jested back, returning the assault.
"Us? Never."
I laughed at how ridiculously true that was. He wasn't lying about the deck. We got in far more trouble than we should have, but that didn't stop us. In the middle of the ocean, surrounded by men that probably didn't know the definition of a good time, (at least the kid friendly version, I'm sure they drank and seduced quite well) we had to keep ourselves entertained somehow. We couldn't help it if that fun sometimes landed us in danger. Well, I guess we could, but we didn't want to.
Reaching the storage closet where miscellaneous supplies were kept, we gathered the buckets and rags. They were the only items in there that weren't coated with a copious amount of dust.
"I'm glad they don't make us clean this thing out. I'd have dust in places dust shouldn't be for weeks." I said, backing out quickly. Dust wasn't the only thing taking up residence there, and I wasn't too keen on meeting any spiders.
"That's an… interesting mental picture." James said, getting a slightly disturbed look on his face.
"You've got me thinking about it now. Thank you, in the most nonthankful way, for that." I said, getting an equally as creeped-out look on my face.
"You're welcome, in the most nonwelcoming way possible." James replied, smirking.
"Oh, wipe that look off your face and help me clean." I said, rolling my eyes and dropping to my knees, sloshing water out of the bucket and onto the deck.
"What you say, Princess." He teased, doing the same by my side. I rolled my eyes again, moving my brush back and forth across the deck.
James and I had been friends pretty much since the first day we had met. It felt like it had been forever, but it had really only been two or three years. We had met when he had been assigned to this ship, under the command of Captain Arthur Harding. He was well respected for breaking in new recruits, and it was a usual occurrence to have new members, particularly young ones. Young, of course, being 19 and up. I was rather lonely, being only around 13 at the time. Most of the men there weren't interested in a friendship with a young girl, and I was alone most of the time.
And then came James.
He was a small, wiry boy with the most intriguing green eyes I had ever seen. He was almost the same size as me, give or take a few inches, and only a year older than me. Excited, I went to talk to him as soon as possible.
He didn't meet expectations. He was quiet, reserved, rule following, to my outlandish, rebellious, loud nature. (Since then, I've beat that out of him a bit, but it still shows) Trying to get anything other than simple answers out of him was like trying to get a cat to swim, utterly useless. I was soon becoming aggravated, and gave him up as a lost cause.
That was, until he came up with one of the meanest, craziest, most fantastic ideas I had ever heard of. I think that's the moment that I feel in like with him. Pretty much since then, we've been wreaking havoc on the other members of the crew.
I suppose you're curious as to how a girl ended up on this crew, too, right? I suppose I should tell you. I was an orphan that was picked up along the way. My hometown was burned to a crisp, and I was the sole survivor. Captain Harding was sent to investigate for any survivors. All he found was me. Agreeing to take me back to civilization, I spent many days and nights on the ship. My father, George Paxton, was put in charge of taking care of me. He was the one that eventually gave me my name, and a new family.
When the time came for me to be released into the wild, neither of us wanted to let go. After some poking and prodding, Captain Harding agreed, and allowed me to stay and grow on the ship. He doesn't like to admit it, but he had a soft spot for me too, in a grandfatherly sort of way. He is the only one besides my father that has known me since I was a baby, and that had made him like family, in an aloof sort of way.
I live a happy life here, among theses men. Sometimes it's uncomfortable when they remember I'm female and I forget, but generally it's pretty good. The sea and the crisp air are my two favorite things in the world, and they surround me constantly. I've seen the stuffy shore girls, dressed to the nines in their finery and lace, looking like parrots kept in cages. I would never want that. I would rather be a tatty raven, free to fly the skies, than be the most beautiful bird in the world and stuck in a cage.
I think that's enough about me. Back to the present.
As we worked our way down the ship, a man in the customary red and white uniform of a navy man walked up, clearing his throat to catch our attention.
"Yes?" James asked, leaning up and brushing a strand of hair out of his face.
"The Captain wished to see you in his office. Immediately." The marine replied, before walking off.
"Hmm, guess I'm leaving you for a while." James said, climbing back to his feet.
"Whatever, just come back soon, okay? I am not doing the rest of this by myself!" I yelled at him as he walked away, receiving an offhanded wave in response. Rolling my eyes, I contented myself by doing as little work as possible while waiting for him.
Well, what do you think? Please tell me if this is not historically accurate, so I can fix it up a bit. Please, only let the criticism be constructive. Flames will be used to roast your soul.
