The girl hid, hardly daring to breathe, behind a stack of barrels on the Dauntless. She shivered, wrapping the tattered shawl closer around her shoulders, drawing shaky breaths through cold and fear. She knew she would never see her home again, not after her family had been murdered by the East India Trading Company and her younger brother stolen, never to be seen again. There was nothing left for her there; her country, her home, had been ravaged by the murderous English, invading the lush green valleys and killing their people. And yet those with Celtic blood running in their veins would never give in, never let the English kill their bloodlines and culture. No, the girl knew that others would fight, others would die for this cause, but not her. She had had enough of the fighting, of the fear. She would keep the bloodline strong wherever this ship was bound, she would keep her people alive from across the world.
Her only hope was that this ship would take her far, far away, perhaps to a place of sun and heat where she could find employment...somehow. She had no idea what she would do, or how she would survive, but she knew she had to go. She had no family, no hope. And if the English were invading Wales, she would not be there to see her people die. They had already taken the nearby country of Scotland, and the people had fought valiantly - and for nothing, to be beaten into submission by force and terror. The girl would not stay to watch that happen to her own country.
She swallowed, her pale hand rubbing her empty stomach. She hadn't eaten since that rotten apple she had managed to steal before the voyage set off from Plymouth, and before then she had only managed to eat scraps thrown to the birds on the long journey from Wales to England, hitching lifts with farmers in exchange for work. She had thinned dramatically in the few months since her family had been murdered and their farm burned. It was likely she wouldn't eat again for some time, if she didn't manage to sneak to the ship's galley to steal some bread, or better yet, some fruit. They would rot soon anyway, and it would be a shame to see such a delicacy go to waste.
She had nothing to do but sit and wait, she thought. The voyage would be long and hard, and if she were cold now, it would only get worse. Better conserve her energy, and hope she survived to the end of the journey. Her eyelids drooped as she leaned her head on a coil of rope, her pitiful shawl barely covering her torso. Her legs curled beneath her, gooseflesh covering the exposed skin under her thin dress. As she fell asleep, her shivering gradually slowed as her lips began to take on a tinge of blue.
The girl awoke to shouts. She opened her eyes blearily, starting to stretch but soon realising that the slightest of movements dislodged the shawl, and that just made her shivering more forceful. "Well, well, well! It seems we have a stowaway." Someone was saying, and the girl stared. A man in a powdered wig speaking in an English accent was leaning behind the barrels and had obviously seen her. The girl shrank back, drawing the shawl around her shoulders and hissing like a cat. English were bad, she knew. She bared her teeth, trying to ignore the shivers that wracked her body. She had never felt so cold, never in her whole pitiful life. The man in the wig reached a hand towards her, pulling her to her feet and out from behind the barrels. "You do know the punishment for stowing away?" The man was angry, spots of red appearing on his cheeks. The girl didn't reply, barely understanding the words she had only just learned.
The man shook her, trying to get an answer, but the girl kept an obstinate silence, her ghostlike hands shaking as he pulled her out into the biting wind on deck. He dragged her by her arm to a man with a dark wig under his large tricorne hat who was speaking with another man who wore a huge curly wig like those the girl had seen in London. "Lieutenant," the man said in clipped tones. "I found this in the hold, behind some barrels. A stowaway." The man in the hat looked down at the girl, taking in her sunken face and ragged, torn clothing, the dull auburn hair and the wide blue eyes that had long-since lost their sparkle. The other man in the large wig widened his eyes as he stared at the girl.
"By God, man, she's freezing - look, her lips are blue!" He stared in outrage at the girl's captor, tugging off his coat and draping it around the girl's shoulders. She shot a look of confusion at him, wondering why he would take pity on a girl such as she. A stowaway, no less. She had long since resigned herself to the fact that she would always be hated by people, as all waifs from the gutters were. And yet this man was kind, he gave her a coat to warm herself and offered kind words. She wondered why; there was always some underlying reason behind kindness - perhaps he wished to keep her alive only to torment her more, or maybe to humiliate her by gaining her trust. Her jaw squared - well, if that was his plan, then she would not fall into the trap that trust brought. The Lieutenant looked the girl up and down, watching the way she shook under the too-large coat and the way her legs shook trying to hold her up. "What is your name, girl?" He asked in a voice that couldn't quite be described as cold, but wasn't exactly warm either. The girl's voice trembled as she mumbled something indistinct. "Speak louder, child." He commanded.
She shook under his gaze, not wishing to tell him anything. But her lips betrayed her, maybe because she was hoping for something to eat, anything, and cooperation would get her it. "Siwan," she whispered, just loud enough for the man to hear. She wished there were something near her for her to lean on, because her knees were shaking and she didn't wish to appear weak before these men. Especially if they were English.
Both men stared at her curiously, never having heard such a name before. "She-wan?" The lieutenant asked, raising an eyebrow. The girl nodded, noticing that both men had trouble pronouncing it with slight amusement.
"Let us call you Susanna - a new name for a new life." Announced the man in the curly wig with a wide smile. The girl forced a smile - could she refuse? What did he mean, a new life? She shouldn't be feeling such...relief at losing her old name, a freedom that she had never had before.
The man with the wig looked over his shoulder and called out, "Elizabeth!" He turned back to the girl. "My daughter, Elizabeth, can look after you," he said over the protests of the lieutenant. The girl stared as a girl a few years younger than she ran up to her father. Elizabeth had tightly curled brown ringlets and inquisitive dark eyes, and at first glance the girl hated her - she'd probably never seen a day without food, never been really hungry or really thirsty, so thirsty that her tongue swelled to twice its size. No, this Elizabeth was a rich girl, a girl of the kind who would look down at the waifs from the gutter and look away with her nose turned away. She surveyed Elizabeth with a frown.
"Who is this, father?" She asked. The man in the wig smiled, patting the girl's shoulder reassuringly.
"This, dear Elizabeth, is to be your new friend. I want you to look after her on the voyage - make sure she is cared for and warm." The girl frowned - why was this man being so kind to her? Kindness came with a price, and she didn't know if she was ready to pay it. "Her name is Susanna, she was found as a stowaway this morning."
The lieutenant stared at Elizabeth's father. "Governor, I really must protest - this girl is not highborn, nor is she decent to be near your daughter. I strongly recommend that we put her in the brig until we reach Port Royal and decide where the girl goes then." He spoke haughtily, with his nose pointed to the air, in a manner that the girl decided that she wasn't fond of at all. She swallowed, drawing the coat closer around her as the wind picked up. The sea was not gentle that day, nor were the elements forgiving. She would have given anything to be back in the farmhouse in Wales, sat before the fire with her mother singing while making bread and the shouts and whistles of her father and brother carrying across from the hills.
The governor turned around to face the lieutenant with cold eyes. "Lieutenant Norrington, I do not believe that you are in a position to give me orders. I have seen how many children are left to die in the gutters because of the brutality of man, and by God, if you just look at the girl, Norrington, you will see that she has seen too much for her years. My own daughter's mother died many years ago and Elizabeth has had to grow up without a mother, and that has taken its toll." He took a deep breath. "There are thousands of other motherless children out there, and now here is one who needs help. It is my duty, I feel, as a father and as a man of authority, to give this child a home where she can feel safe." His eyes hardened as they rested upon the stripes of gold on the lieutenant's uniform. "Elizabeth, take Susanna to your cabin and call for somebody to set up a cot."
The dark haired girl stared at her father, anxious to see if she would have a new playmate, having left all her old friends in London. The girl saw that she was in kind hands at that moment, hands that she distrusted; but she was damned if she was going to die without food in her stomach. She took a deep breath. "Food," she mumbled. "Please...may I have something to eat." Her voice was croaking, and her head was swimming and throbbing, but her words were clear. "Sir." She added as an afterthought.
The governor's face split into a wide smile. "Of course." He turned to the girl's captor, who released her arm. "Gillette, please fetch the girl something to eat. And not too much," he called after the wigged man. "Too much will make you feel ill, especially with the ship rocking as it is today." He put his handkerchief in front of his mouth, his face paling. The girl couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude as Elizabeth took her hand and led her to her cabin. When she was there, she breathed a sigh of relief - she didn't allow herself to let her guard down yet, but for now, she was safe and warm and content.
It would be many years before Susanna learned to trust Governor Weatherby Swann and his kindness, but over time she began to laugh more, smile more, and loosen her tight fear of the English. These Englishmen wouldn't hurt her, and she was far from the viciousness of Britain. She trusted Elizabeth and Will Turner almost immediately, them being children and having the nature of children, and soon began to fill in the gaps that her family had left empty in her heart.