Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except Kat-the rest belong to
RKO Radio Pictures, if they even exist anymore.
This is based off of the old movie called "The Spanish Main", with Paul Heinreid and Maureen O'Hara, which is an absolutely wonderful pirate movie, except I don't like Maureen O'Hara. She's whiney. Solution: make her walk the plank and introduce my own character. Hence Kat exists. Yay for Kat! Anyway, this is my idea of a good time, particularly after spending way too much time thinking about "Pirates of the Carribean". Then again, no one can have too much POTC! Especially Captain Jack......anyway, R&R and I'll put up more chapters!
The ship tossed and groaned horribly, but Kat made no protest. She couldn't, if she wanted to avoid discovery. Storms were not rare on the Spanish Main, though this one was particularly bad. It was the year 1723; ships of the merchant trade were the lifeblood of the empires of the world, and it was on one such ship that Katarina had concealed herself. Not to see the world, or seek her fortune on foreign shores, but to escape a fate worse than facing the dangers of the Spanish Main.
It had been days since the ship had left the port in Mexico, and she was beginning to feel that she had spent all her life at sea. The voices of the men working on deck were almost too much to bear; she wanted to be up there too, smelling the salt air and feeling the splash of the waves. That was why she had chosen to escape on a ship-because she loved the sea. But she couldn't risk going out on deck unless she absolutely had to. Her luck had been good up to now, but there was no telling what might happen if she wasn't careful. Not only was she a stowaway, she was also a female-and there was nothing more unacceptable than for a female to travel alone. The thought of what might happen to her should someone discover her sex was unbearable.
Before she'd left, Kat had taken great pains to put together a disguise. Now, she checked her loose boy's clothing and tightly braided-and- pinned hair. It was silly of her to keep her long hair, she knew, but she couldn't give up the one vanity that she'd ever really enjoyed. Its chestnut color was unlike anyone's in her family, and she was glad of the difference. It made it that much simpler to leave them behind her. "I can't ever go back to them," she whispered to herself, repeating the knowledge that had carried her this far. "Not ever-not after what they were going to do." It was madness for a young woman, barely out of her teens, to do what she was doing now, but Kat knew there was only one other choice. And she didn't even want to consider it.
She grabbed onto some rope that was hanging nearby as the ship lurched violently. Four days she'd hid herself in the dark hold; four days of rationing her food and water, and praying that the ship would come to port soon. Now, she just wanted the storm to end. How much more of this could she endure? She had never suffered from seasickness before, but after this storm, she was beginning to think that she would never be able to eat anything again.
Kat stiffened and clutched more tightly at the rope as she heard footsteps coming down the ladder into the hold. No one had come down here in all the time she'd been hidden; why did they have to start now, in the middle of a storm? She tried not to breathe as the person came closer. The steps slowed, paused, then moved on, more quietly than before. The sound stopped again, and with startling suddenness, a hand reached into her hiding place. She leaned as far back as she could, trying desperately not to make a sound. For one terrifying moment, she could do nothing but stare at the hand as it came closer and closer to her face. In another moment, the man would be able to touch her.then, he grabbed hold of a length of rope hanging right in front of her face.
Kat didn't move a muscle as the sailor's hand withdrew. As long as she stayed absolutely still, there was no way for the man to know she was there. She heard his footsteps retreating, then the creak of the ladder as he began to climb up to the deck. Slowly she let out her breath, relaxing her grip on the rope she had been holding.
The ship chose just that moment to sway so violently that she lost her balance. With a cry of despair, Kat tumbled out from behind the ropes, rolled head over heels into the hold, and struck the wooden planks of the wall with a loud thud. Before she could untangle her limbs, the man had jumped back down the ladder. A rough hand grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her up, and she found herself looking into the face of a tall, blond and curly-haired sailor.
"So, we've got a stowaway, have we?" he said in a pleasant-sounding, though disapproving voice. He had an accent that Kat had never heard before; she suspected he was one of the Dutch sailors that they had taken on in Mexico. "How long have you been here?"
He doesn't know I'm a girl, Kat realized. "Since the port in Mexico," she said out loud, trying to make her voice sound as a boy's might. "I'm trying to get to New Granada."
The man scrutinized her with pale gray-blue eyes. "Hiding for more than a week, eh? And I suppose you've been stealing from the ship's stores as well, haven't you?"
She shook her head. "I brought my own food and water. I'm no thief."
"A smart stowaway, then. Do you know what the penalty would be if someone told the captain you were here?"
She met his eyes defiantly. "I know it. Are you going to report me?"
The sailor looked at her for a moment, then grinned. "I don't think I will. After all, some of us sailors started as stowaways ourselves. No, I'll help you to get to New Granada, boy. What's your name?"
Thinking quickly, Kat came up with the name of one of her brothers. "Carlo," she said.
"Well, Carlo," the man said, clapping her on the shoulder, "If you can keep quiet, I think I might manage to see that you have some extra rations every few days." He winked. "That ought to hold you until we reach New Granada."
"Thank you," Kat said gratefully. Not only had she not been turned over, the man was going to help her! "I'll stay quiet. And I won't tell a soul that you helped me." After a pause, she added, "What's your name?"
The man grinned again. "Laurent," he said. "And I'd better get back up on deck-they'll be wanting this rope." With that, he turned and climbed back up the ladder, closing the hatch tightly behind him. Kat stayed where she was for a moment, taking deep, steadying breaths. She was simply so relieved that she hadn't been turned in that she couldn't think of anything else. Then, practicality took over as the ship pitched again. She climbed back behind the piles of extra ropes and rigging and settled in, prepared for a rough night. Kat sighed; it would be a long time before she could go out in the fresh air again.
When Kat finally saw the deck, it was not in the manner that she'd expected-or wanted. For the past week, Laurent had brought her hard crackers and dried meat, just enough to live on. She never saw him, but there was always a little food tucked into a napkin next to her when she woke each day. It was no feast, but she was very grateful for it-if it weren't for him, she would have been starving by now, and had to steal from the ship's stores. Her own food had run out days ago, something that annoyed her; she hadn't planned as well as she'd thought.
One day, though, the sounds that represented the normal routine of the ship were interrupted. Kat, listening closely, heard scuffling, then a single set of footsteps pacing the deck above her. A man was speaking loudly-not enough for her to make out words-but she guessed it was the captain. What she couldn't guess was why he was speaking. She listened attentively for a few moments, but the wood of the deck muffled the man's words.
Suddenly, the hatch opened and bright sunlight flooded into the hold. Kat, startled, ducked quickly into the ropes and boxes. It couldn't be Laurent, she knew; he always came at night. Her heart pounded as she tried to flatten herself against the side of a crate. She barely breathed. If she were discovered by anyone else on the crew, she would be beaten-or worse.
But her luck had run out. Before she could dodge away, a pair of muscular arms reached around the crate and concealing piles of ropes and grabbed her. She gasped and kicked out at the person who held her, trying to break his grip. It did little good, and the sailor dragged her out from her hiding place. It wasn't Laurent, but a hard-faced man with a rough beard and a multitude of scars. His hand went over her mouth, and she tried to bite him; it only earned her a cuff that made her head spin. Ignoring her struggles, the man lifted her bodily up the ladder and into the glaring daylight.
The ship's crew-mostly rough sailors, with a few of the armored soldiers always found on a Spanish ship-was lined up on the deck. She saw Laurent, but tried not to look at him or seem as if she recognized him. The penalty for harboring a stowaway was nearly as bad as that of being one, and she didn't want him to share in it. A tall, bearded man was glaring at her-the captain. The man who held her took his hand away from her mouth, but held both of her arms behind her with the other.
"A stowaway," the captain barked. "One of you has been stealing food and water for him, and I want to know who." The line of men was silent; no one dared speak. The captain paced down the line, staring into the face of each man, then walked back to Kat and grabbed her collar, lifting her off her feet; the sailor released her hands. "Who helped you, boy?" the captain demanded. When she merely glared at him, he gave her a violent shake. Before she realized the danger, her hat flew off and the long braid of her hair tumbled down her back.
There were whispers and surprised glances from all of the men, and the captain leered unpleasantly. "A girl as well," he sneered. He brought his face close to her own, shifting his grip to her hair and pulling hard. "You do know what happens to stowaways, don't you, wench?" He glared at her, an ugly light in his eyes. "You'll take the punishment if you don't name your confederate!"
Kat's eyes flicked to Laurent, but she looked away, saying nothing as she tried to jerk her hair from the captain's grasp. He only pulled tighter. "Who helped you?" he growled, giving it a vicious yank.
"No man helped me," she gasped, clenching her teeth against the sudden pain. Whatever punishment the captain had planned, she wasn't about to make Laurent share it with her.
The captain stared at her for a moment, then nodded to one of his men. "Wench or not, there's a penalty due from anyone who stows away on my ship. Bring the Cat," he said coldly. "Tie her." Kat couldn't help shuddering. The Cat was a vicious leather whip with nine tails-and very deadly. Few men she'd ever seen or heard of had survived an encounter with the thing, and those that had were ruined for life. Two of the soldiers came forward, dragged her to the mast and bound her arms around it. Another stood by, slapping the Cat against his boot. "Forty lashes," the captain ordered. She had to bite back the cry of despair that rose in her throat; forty lashes was the full penalty, and no man, much less a girl, could survive it.
Kat could do nothing but listen helplessly to the soldier's footsteps as they approached her. She clenched her teeth. Suddenly, the Cat whistled through the air and struck her back. The pain was incredible, like having white-hot knives burning into her flesh. The blows kept coming; after the first few, she couldn't tell if she were screaming or not. The pain obliterated her senses. She sagged lower and lower with each cut, with only her bonds holding her up.
Suddenly, a shout went up from the crow's nest. "Ship off the starboard bow!" the man bellowed. The soldier dropped the whip and rushed to the rail with the captain and the rest of the men, leaving Kat to slump against the mast, shaking dripping with blood. She couldn't see what was happening, but what she heard told her enough.
"Is it a merchant ship?"
"Nay, there's no flag."
"Aye, there is-look!"
"Pirates!"
"Not just any pirates-the Barracuda himself!" This last shout brought Kat back from the beginnings of a faint. She knew little about sailing, but everyone had heard of the scourge of the Spanish Main, the pirate known only by the name of his ship.
"Bring her about, and ready those cannon!" the captain barked. "Come on, men, she's too sweet a ship for a black-hearted pirate! She won't stand a chance. Hard to starboard! Trim those sails!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Kat watched as the sailors went into a flurry of activity, loading the cannon and rolling them into place, climbing and adjusting the rigging. She tried to twist around to see the other ship, but her back and arms protested bitterly, and she abandoned the effort when she nearly lost consciousness. There was nothing she could do, bound and beaten as she was.
The ship shuddered under the booming shock of its first cannon fire. Huge splashes and the crunching of wood told her that the pirate ship was firing as well. She could do nothing but cling weakly to the mast when the ship lurched violently from a hit. Each shock pounded in her head and rattled her bones.
The two ships curvetted and swung about, chasing each other, but the Barracuda was far too fast for the merchant ship; one well-placed shot snapped the main mast halfway up, crippling her in an instant. Before Kat could even turn her head, the pirate ship was alongside and a horde of yelling men were clamoring onto the deck. The sailors drew their swords and met the pirates with a brave defense, but they were easily outnumbered.
She flattened herself against the mast, trying to stay out of the way of the battle. No one paid her any heed; the men were too intent on saving their own skins to bother looking at her, and thankfully, none of the pirates seemed to care. Kat winced as she took a cut on the cheek from one badly aimed blow, and struggled to free her wrists from the ropes.
Suddenly, another blow sliced into the ropes, and they snapped. She tumbled to the deck and scrambled to get out of the way of the fighters, taking refuge in a corner next to the huge water barrel that sat on the deck. She stared in wide-eyed amazement and fear at the battle. It was obvious that the pirates were going to win-but what would happen to her?
Kat heard a man laughing, and looked up in time to see someone cut one of the ropes that held up the rigging. A yardarm creaked and snapped, and plummeted downward-straight at her. She had no time to move; the beam struck her in the head and knocked her to the deck, burying her under rope and yards of sail. The sounds of battle faded, and she gave up the fight to stay conscious as a welcome blackness descended on her.
This is based off of the old movie called "The Spanish Main", with Paul Heinreid and Maureen O'Hara, which is an absolutely wonderful pirate movie, except I don't like Maureen O'Hara. She's whiney. Solution: make her walk the plank and introduce my own character. Hence Kat exists. Yay for Kat! Anyway, this is my idea of a good time, particularly after spending way too much time thinking about "Pirates of the Carribean". Then again, no one can have too much POTC! Especially Captain Jack......anyway, R&R and I'll put up more chapters!
The ship tossed and groaned horribly, but Kat made no protest. She couldn't, if she wanted to avoid discovery. Storms were not rare on the Spanish Main, though this one was particularly bad. It was the year 1723; ships of the merchant trade were the lifeblood of the empires of the world, and it was on one such ship that Katarina had concealed herself. Not to see the world, or seek her fortune on foreign shores, but to escape a fate worse than facing the dangers of the Spanish Main.
It had been days since the ship had left the port in Mexico, and she was beginning to feel that she had spent all her life at sea. The voices of the men working on deck were almost too much to bear; she wanted to be up there too, smelling the salt air and feeling the splash of the waves. That was why she had chosen to escape on a ship-because she loved the sea. But she couldn't risk going out on deck unless she absolutely had to. Her luck had been good up to now, but there was no telling what might happen if she wasn't careful. Not only was she a stowaway, she was also a female-and there was nothing more unacceptable than for a female to travel alone. The thought of what might happen to her should someone discover her sex was unbearable.
Before she'd left, Kat had taken great pains to put together a disguise. Now, she checked her loose boy's clothing and tightly braided-and- pinned hair. It was silly of her to keep her long hair, she knew, but she couldn't give up the one vanity that she'd ever really enjoyed. Its chestnut color was unlike anyone's in her family, and she was glad of the difference. It made it that much simpler to leave them behind her. "I can't ever go back to them," she whispered to herself, repeating the knowledge that had carried her this far. "Not ever-not after what they were going to do." It was madness for a young woman, barely out of her teens, to do what she was doing now, but Kat knew there was only one other choice. And she didn't even want to consider it.
She grabbed onto some rope that was hanging nearby as the ship lurched violently. Four days she'd hid herself in the dark hold; four days of rationing her food and water, and praying that the ship would come to port soon. Now, she just wanted the storm to end. How much more of this could she endure? She had never suffered from seasickness before, but after this storm, she was beginning to think that she would never be able to eat anything again.
Kat stiffened and clutched more tightly at the rope as she heard footsteps coming down the ladder into the hold. No one had come down here in all the time she'd been hidden; why did they have to start now, in the middle of a storm? She tried not to breathe as the person came closer. The steps slowed, paused, then moved on, more quietly than before. The sound stopped again, and with startling suddenness, a hand reached into her hiding place. She leaned as far back as she could, trying desperately not to make a sound. For one terrifying moment, she could do nothing but stare at the hand as it came closer and closer to her face. In another moment, the man would be able to touch her.then, he grabbed hold of a length of rope hanging right in front of her face.
Kat didn't move a muscle as the sailor's hand withdrew. As long as she stayed absolutely still, there was no way for the man to know she was there. She heard his footsteps retreating, then the creak of the ladder as he began to climb up to the deck. Slowly she let out her breath, relaxing her grip on the rope she had been holding.
The ship chose just that moment to sway so violently that she lost her balance. With a cry of despair, Kat tumbled out from behind the ropes, rolled head over heels into the hold, and struck the wooden planks of the wall with a loud thud. Before she could untangle her limbs, the man had jumped back down the ladder. A rough hand grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her up, and she found herself looking into the face of a tall, blond and curly-haired sailor.
"So, we've got a stowaway, have we?" he said in a pleasant-sounding, though disapproving voice. He had an accent that Kat had never heard before; she suspected he was one of the Dutch sailors that they had taken on in Mexico. "How long have you been here?"
He doesn't know I'm a girl, Kat realized. "Since the port in Mexico," she said out loud, trying to make her voice sound as a boy's might. "I'm trying to get to New Granada."
The man scrutinized her with pale gray-blue eyes. "Hiding for more than a week, eh? And I suppose you've been stealing from the ship's stores as well, haven't you?"
She shook her head. "I brought my own food and water. I'm no thief."
"A smart stowaway, then. Do you know what the penalty would be if someone told the captain you were here?"
She met his eyes defiantly. "I know it. Are you going to report me?"
The sailor looked at her for a moment, then grinned. "I don't think I will. After all, some of us sailors started as stowaways ourselves. No, I'll help you to get to New Granada, boy. What's your name?"
Thinking quickly, Kat came up with the name of one of her brothers. "Carlo," she said.
"Well, Carlo," the man said, clapping her on the shoulder, "If you can keep quiet, I think I might manage to see that you have some extra rations every few days." He winked. "That ought to hold you until we reach New Granada."
"Thank you," Kat said gratefully. Not only had she not been turned over, the man was going to help her! "I'll stay quiet. And I won't tell a soul that you helped me." After a pause, she added, "What's your name?"
The man grinned again. "Laurent," he said. "And I'd better get back up on deck-they'll be wanting this rope." With that, he turned and climbed back up the ladder, closing the hatch tightly behind him. Kat stayed where she was for a moment, taking deep, steadying breaths. She was simply so relieved that she hadn't been turned in that she couldn't think of anything else. Then, practicality took over as the ship pitched again. She climbed back behind the piles of extra ropes and rigging and settled in, prepared for a rough night. Kat sighed; it would be a long time before she could go out in the fresh air again.
When Kat finally saw the deck, it was not in the manner that she'd expected-or wanted. For the past week, Laurent had brought her hard crackers and dried meat, just enough to live on. She never saw him, but there was always a little food tucked into a napkin next to her when she woke each day. It was no feast, but she was very grateful for it-if it weren't for him, she would have been starving by now, and had to steal from the ship's stores. Her own food had run out days ago, something that annoyed her; she hadn't planned as well as she'd thought.
One day, though, the sounds that represented the normal routine of the ship were interrupted. Kat, listening closely, heard scuffling, then a single set of footsteps pacing the deck above her. A man was speaking loudly-not enough for her to make out words-but she guessed it was the captain. What she couldn't guess was why he was speaking. She listened attentively for a few moments, but the wood of the deck muffled the man's words.
Suddenly, the hatch opened and bright sunlight flooded into the hold. Kat, startled, ducked quickly into the ropes and boxes. It couldn't be Laurent, she knew; he always came at night. Her heart pounded as she tried to flatten herself against the side of a crate. She barely breathed. If she were discovered by anyone else on the crew, she would be beaten-or worse.
But her luck had run out. Before she could dodge away, a pair of muscular arms reached around the crate and concealing piles of ropes and grabbed her. She gasped and kicked out at the person who held her, trying to break his grip. It did little good, and the sailor dragged her out from her hiding place. It wasn't Laurent, but a hard-faced man with a rough beard and a multitude of scars. His hand went over her mouth, and she tried to bite him; it only earned her a cuff that made her head spin. Ignoring her struggles, the man lifted her bodily up the ladder and into the glaring daylight.
The ship's crew-mostly rough sailors, with a few of the armored soldiers always found on a Spanish ship-was lined up on the deck. She saw Laurent, but tried not to look at him or seem as if she recognized him. The penalty for harboring a stowaway was nearly as bad as that of being one, and she didn't want him to share in it. A tall, bearded man was glaring at her-the captain. The man who held her took his hand away from her mouth, but held both of her arms behind her with the other.
"A stowaway," the captain barked. "One of you has been stealing food and water for him, and I want to know who." The line of men was silent; no one dared speak. The captain paced down the line, staring into the face of each man, then walked back to Kat and grabbed her collar, lifting her off her feet; the sailor released her hands. "Who helped you, boy?" the captain demanded. When she merely glared at him, he gave her a violent shake. Before she realized the danger, her hat flew off and the long braid of her hair tumbled down her back.
There were whispers and surprised glances from all of the men, and the captain leered unpleasantly. "A girl as well," he sneered. He brought his face close to her own, shifting his grip to her hair and pulling hard. "You do know what happens to stowaways, don't you, wench?" He glared at her, an ugly light in his eyes. "You'll take the punishment if you don't name your confederate!"
Kat's eyes flicked to Laurent, but she looked away, saying nothing as she tried to jerk her hair from the captain's grasp. He only pulled tighter. "Who helped you?" he growled, giving it a vicious yank.
"No man helped me," she gasped, clenching her teeth against the sudden pain. Whatever punishment the captain had planned, she wasn't about to make Laurent share it with her.
The captain stared at her for a moment, then nodded to one of his men. "Wench or not, there's a penalty due from anyone who stows away on my ship. Bring the Cat," he said coldly. "Tie her." Kat couldn't help shuddering. The Cat was a vicious leather whip with nine tails-and very deadly. Few men she'd ever seen or heard of had survived an encounter with the thing, and those that had were ruined for life. Two of the soldiers came forward, dragged her to the mast and bound her arms around it. Another stood by, slapping the Cat against his boot. "Forty lashes," the captain ordered. She had to bite back the cry of despair that rose in her throat; forty lashes was the full penalty, and no man, much less a girl, could survive it.
Kat could do nothing but listen helplessly to the soldier's footsteps as they approached her. She clenched her teeth. Suddenly, the Cat whistled through the air and struck her back. The pain was incredible, like having white-hot knives burning into her flesh. The blows kept coming; after the first few, she couldn't tell if she were screaming or not. The pain obliterated her senses. She sagged lower and lower with each cut, with only her bonds holding her up.
Suddenly, a shout went up from the crow's nest. "Ship off the starboard bow!" the man bellowed. The soldier dropped the whip and rushed to the rail with the captain and the rest of the men, leaving Kat to slump against the mast, shaking dripping with blood. She couldn't see what was happening, but what she heard told her enough.
"Is it a merchant ship?"
"Nay, there's no flag."
"Aye, there is-look!"
"Pirates!"
"Not just any pirates-the Barracuda himself!" This last shout brought Kat back from the beginnings of a faint. She knew little about sailing, but everyone had heard of the scourge of the Spanish Main, the pirate known only by the name of his ship.
"Bring her about, and ready those cannon!" the captain barked. "Come on, men, she's too sweet a ship for a black-hearted pirate! She won't stand a chance. Hard to starboard! Trim those sails!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Kat watched as the sailors went into a flurry of activity, loading the cannon and rolling them into place, climbing and adjusting the rigging. She tried to twist around to see the other ship, but her back and arms protested bitterly, and she abandoned the effort when she nearly lost consciousness. There was nothing she could do, bound and beaten as she was.
The ship shuddered under the booming shock of its first cannon fire. Huge splashes and the crunching of wood told her that the pirate ship was firing as well. She could do nothing but cling weakly to the mast when the ship lurched violently from a hit. Each shock pounded in her head and rattled her bones.
The two ships curvetted and swung about, chasing each other, but the Barracuda was far too fast for the merchant ship; one well-placed shot snapped the main mast halfway up, crippling her in an instant. Before Kat could even turn her head, the pirate ship was alongside and a horde of yelling men were clamoring onto the deck. The sailors drew their swords and met the pirates with a brave defense, but they were easily outnumbered.
She flattened herself against the mast, trying to stay out of the way of the battle. No one paid her any heed; the men were too intent on saving their own skins to bother looking at her, and thankfully, none of the pirates seemed to care. Kat winced as she took a cut on the cheek from one badly aimed blow, and struggled to free her wrists from the ropes.
Suddenly, another blow sliced into the ropes, and they snapped. She tumbled to the deck and scrambled to get out of the way of the fighters, taking refuge in a corner next to the huge water barrel that sat on the deck. She stared in wide-eyed amazement and fear at the battle. It was obvious that the pirates were going to win-but what would happen to her?
Kat heard a man laughing, and looked up in time to see someone cut one of the ropes that held up the rigging. A yardarm creaked and snapped, and plummeted downward-straight at her. She had no time to move; the beam struck her in the head and knocked her to the deck, burying her under rope and yards of sail. The sounds of battle faded, and she gave up the fight to stay conscious as a welcome blackness descended on her.