The three bodies hang from nooses, the rags of their shirts and trousers swaying in the wind. The bodies are tied to a wooden board that is secured well above the ocean. Even at high tide, all who pass are forced to look upon the corpses. Their skin is all but nonexistent and the bones which lay beneath have turned a grayish-brown. Two of the three heads are dropped unnaturally to the side and the third stares out dangerously across the water. Their eye sockets are sunken and empty, their hair stringy and wet. Beside them hangs a wooden sign.
Pirates Ye Be Warned.
I rest my head in my hand and place my other hand on the stone wall of the bridge.
Since the time I arrived in Port Royal, the pirates have always hung there. Their skeletal faces startled me at first, but that was over a year ago and now I am well-adapted to their skinless-ness. They stand as a warning to all dishonest souls who enter this royal city.
I lean over to put my head on my elbows. Despite the atrocity at which society regards pirates, there is something about the idea of a pirate that is just fascinating. Father would scold me for thinking such things, but no one need ever know how many hours I have spent wondering . . . wishing . . .
"Elizabeth!"
I turn around to see my father's approaching figure.
"What in heaven's name are you doing here? You're supposed to be studying! And what are you—" He follows my gaze to glance at the figures hanging from the wooden board. Father shudders and turns back to me.
"Elizabeth, this has to stop. All of this . . . this pirate nonsense, there must be an end to it! It's dangerous and I will not have it from my only child!"
I look at the ground to avoid his disapproving expression, but I am not sorry.
"I will not catch you here ever again, do you understand? Look at me." His voice rises just a little. I raise my eyes to meet his and bite the inside of my cheek to keep back a cutting reply. However, as I continue stare at my father, his light brown eyes begin to soften.
"How am I supposed to raise the daughter of a governor when she refuses to listen?" He adds with a soft chuckle.
"Father," I say, putting my arms around his waist. He puts his arms around me for a moment and I know he's not truly angry with me. It is difficult for him to stay upset with me for long.
"Now get in the carriage. It's waiting for you down at the end of the bridge," he says, letting me go. "And don't let me catch you here again!"
I follow his orders and scurry down the stone bridge. As I approach the carriage, I notice another figure standing at the end of the bridge, one who undoubtedly accompanied my father here.
"Lieutenant Norrington," I say in greeting to the tall man who's presenting a scowl from beneath his pale wig and British Naval commander's hat.
"Miss Swann," his voice is not friendly. "Back to watch dead men stay dead?"
"They were once alive," I reply, taking on a glare. "I only wonder who they were and why they were hung."
Lieutenant Norrington walks past me slowly, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
"Who they once were is none of your concern, Miss Swann. They had no place in this world, therefore they were sent to the one place they truly belonged."
"You knew them before they were hung?" I say in surprise, catching up to him as he slowly walks back along the bridge.
"Don't sound so interested Miss Swann. I know nothing of who they were, only what they did," he says contemptuously.
"Did you ever speak to them?" I ask, my eyes focused on his face. He stares out at the blue ocean with a disapproving stare, as if this were the most unpleasant conversation he has ever had.
"I don't see that it matters. I gave the order and they were hung, what more do you wish to know?"
"You? You gave the order?" I say incredulously. "You said you never knew who they were, only what they did. How can you condemn a man whose intentions might have been the opposite of the action he was committing?"
"I knew his intentions," Lieutenant Norrington stops and turns on me. "Those were perfectly clear the moment he set foot in Port Royal. Ah. Governor Swann."
My father strides over to us.
"Is everything alright, Lieutenant?" Father asks.
"Sir, you would do well to control your daughter and her obsession with pirates," he spits the last word.
"I'm terribly sorry, Lieutenant."
"It's not an obsession, it's a curiosity!" I yell to Lieutenant as my father pushes me backwards into the carriage. He shuts the door and turns away. Knowing father, if he refuses to look at me that's not a good sign.
"Let me tell you Miss Swann," says Lieutenant Norrington, inserting his head through the carriage window. "The only aspect of pirates one should be curious about is why they even exist."
As the carriage pulls away I have a sudden urge to stick my tongue out at him, but I restrain myself. I'm twelve years old now and after how disappointed Father must be with me . . . I know I should not be curious about pirates. Piracy is against the law.