A/N okay so as far as I am aware no one has written a story about the
events leading to Cotton losing his tongue. So here it is!! ^_^ It's not
going to be very long, a few chapters maybe!! ^_^ Anyway please review and
tell me what you think. Many Thanks. Should I continue?? Yes? No?
Tongue Twister.
Chapter One ~ Fight in the Alley.
Avery Cotton struggled with the collection of coins in his pocket. The bar keep's hand was held out, under his nose, as Cotton's mind hurried to select the payment. It is was a painless transaction, and in silence Cotton picked up his bag and left the inn.
He had been moving round inns for over three months, trying to find a permanent place to stay. He had little money, and could not stay in one place for too long. He had been in this town for over two weeks now, and it was time to move on. He tried to ignore his growing feelings for the bar keep's daughter, Arabella, as he stepped from the pub out onto the cobbled street, clothed already by the evening gloom. Arabella was nothing special, he had met her sort plenty of times before, it was the wedding ring on her finger that made their relationship so different, so exciting The taboo, the forbidding air that surrounded her had been her main attraction. He shook her slinky figure from his head as he strolled towards the docks.
What he really wanted was a place aboard ship, surely there would be plenty of places going for a honest sailor willing to work for his keep? Not quite as many as first expected. For a start, the navy had suffered a major decline due to the increase in pirate ships sailing the Caribbean, also tighter security had been introduced. And not having a proper name, or home Cotton was not top of their 'to employ' list. His rough unshaven face gave him a rugged hardened appearance, coupled with his deep, booming voice, and shifty eyes, he did not have the air of a trusty employee.
Avery Cotton was at the age of thirty very dissatisfied with his life. He had no permanent woman in his life, no children to mould in his image. And not even two shillings to rub together through the biting stormy winds of the Caribbean. He had been born on the night of an enormous storm, and since then his luck seemed to go from bad to worse. It was almost like a bad omen, signifying what his life was to be like. Like his mother, he had neither met nor known his father, and he had no inclination to set eyes on the 'greedy rasping' man. His mother died young of illness, brought on by her lifestyle of drink and fornication.
Avery Cotton had stole his living, and brought himself up on the streets. The cobbled streets providing his bed, the scraps of food thrown out, his meals. And he was certainly none the worse for wear, he was tough, willing, even eager to earn his living. He contained more spirit in his little finger then all the rich snobs had together. And it was this spirit that kept him alive. He lived not on the rum that swished around in his empty stomach, or the girls he shared his bed with, no he lived on his determination. He was tired of being looked down on, judged. . .he just wanted to prove himself. Was that really so wrong?
He sloped around at the docks, watching as the ships came in, unloaded, weighed anchor and left. The urge to join them raged in his bitter heart, and the salt water pulsed through his veins. And then came the big break, a fortunate, or unfortunate however you look at it, opportunity arrived, as Cotton wondered the back alleys after strutting from the pub.
He had just come to a cross lane when a man stepped out in front of him. He held a knife in his gloved hand. He had a harsh face, beaten by the elements, scars ran over his arms, and his shirt was open to reveal a bullet wound. His face was hardened into a cruel, determined grin, as he held the knife, above his head, ready to throw. Without too much work, Cotton deduced he was a pirate.
Avery was about to stand and fight, but the man continued past him, he had already selected his victim. There was a man just ahead of Cotton, and the pirate. He was dressed as a gentleman, but his walk was not refined, and Cotton found himself questioning the fancy frog coat, and neat polished shoes. He didn't know the man, had never seen his face, so he didn't know why he did it, but he did.
"Look out!" He called, as the man lifted the knife, and prepared to throw.
It all happened to quickly for Avery Cotton to follow. But there was a clatter as the knife fell to the ground, shortly followed by the assassin. The 'gentleman' stood watching Avery in amusement, he tucked his pistol back into his coat with a casual smile. Avery felt repelled by the body, he stepped back to avoid the red blood that was slowly covering the cobbles. He had never seen death at so close quarters before.
The gentleman walked over to admire his handy work. "Quite a good shot, if I do say so myself." He said, giving the body a gentle kick with his shoe. "I owe you thanks my friend." He held out a leather gloved hand, and Avery took it.
"And now I am one short of a crew."
"You're a captain?"
"Indeed I am, The Abyss, that is my ship." He neither talked nor sounded like any pirate Avery had ever met. He had heard of this kind, but never met them, 'the gentlemen pirates'. "Don't suppose you'd be interested in taking up the vacant position? I need at least one man I can trust."
Avery felt his ears burn with excitement. At last, a chance to reunite with the ocean.
Tongue Twister.
Chapter One ~ Fight in the Alley.
Avery Cotton struggled with the collection of coins in his pocket. The bar keep's hand was held out, under his nose, as Cotton's mind hurried to select the payment. It is was a painless transaction, and in silence Cotton picked up his bag and left the inn.
He had been moving round inns for over three months, trying to find a permanent place to stay. He had little money, and could not stay in one place for too long. He had been in this town for over two weeks now, and it was time to move on. He tried to ignore his growing feelings for the bar keep's daughter, Arabella, as he stepped from the pub out onto the cobbled street, clothed already by the evening gloom. Arabella was nothing special, he had met her sort plenty of times before, it was the wedding ring on her finger that made their relationship so different, so exciting The taboo, the forbidding air that surrounded her had been her main attraction. He shook her slinky figure from his head as he strolled towards the docks.
What he really wanted was a place aboard ship, surely there would be plenty of places going for a honest sailor willing to work for his keep? Not quite as many as first expected. For a start, the navy had suffered a major decline due to the increase in pirate ships sailing the Caribbean, also tighter security had been introduced. And not having a proper name, or home Cotton was not top of their 'to employ' list. His rough unshaven face gave him a rugged hardened appearance, coupled with his deep, booming voice, and shifty eyes, he did not have the air of a trusty employee.
Avery Cotton was at the age of thirty very dissatisfied with his life. He had no permanent woman in his life, no children to mould in his image. And not even two shillings to rub together through the biting stormy winds of the Caribbean. He had been born on the night of an enormous storm, and since then his luck seemed to go from bad to worse. It was almost like a bad omen, signifying what his life was to be like. Like his mother, he had neither met nor known his father, and he had no inclination to set eyes on the 'greedy rasping' man. His mother died young of illness, brought on by her lifestyle of drink and fornication.
Avery Cotton had stole his living, and brought himself up on the streets. The cobbled streets providing his bed, the scraps of food thrown out, his meals. And he was certainly none the worse for wear, he was tough, willing, even eager to earn his living. He contained more spirit in his little finger then all the rich snobs had together. And it was this spirit that kept him alive. He lived not on the rum that swished around in his empty stomach, or the girls he shared his bed with, no he lived on his determination. He was tired of being looked down on, judged. . .he just wanted to prove himself. Was that really so wrong?
He sloped around at the docks, watching as the ships came in, unloaded, weighed anchor and left. The urge to join them raged in his bitter heart, and the salt water pulsed through his veins. And then came the big break, a fortunate, or unfortunate however you look at it, opportunity arrived, as Cotton wondered the back alleys after strutting from the pub.
He had just come to a cross lane when a man stepped out in front of him. He held a knife in his gloved hand. He had a harsh face, beaten by the elements, scars ran over his arms, and his shirt was open to reveal a bullet wound. His face was hardened into a cruel, determined grin, as he held the knife, above his head, ready to throw. Without too much work, Cotton deduced he was a pirate.
Avery was about to stand and fight, but the man continued past him, he had already selected his victim. There was a man just ahead of Cotton, and the pirate. He was dressed as a gentleman, but his walk was not refined, and Cotton found himself questioning the fancy frog coat, and neat polished shoes. He didn't know the man, had never seen his face, so he didn't know why he did it, but he did.
"Look out!" He called, as the man lifted the knife, and prepared to throw.
It all happened to quickly for Avery Cotton to follow. But there was a clatter as the knife fell to the ground, shortly followed by the assassin. The 'gentleman' stood watching Avery in amusement, he tucked his pistol back into his coat with a casual smile. Avery felt repelled by the body, he stepped back to avoid the red blood that was slowly covering the cobbles. He had never seen death at so close quarters before.
The gentleman walked over to admire his handy work. "Quite a good shot, if I do say so myself." He said, giving the body a gentle kick with his shoe. "I owe you thanks my friend." He held out a leather gloved hand, and Avery took it.
"And now I am one short of a crew."
"You're a captain?"
"Indeed I am, The Abyss, that is my ship." He neither talked nor sounded like any pirate Avery had ever met. He had heard of this kind, but never met them, 'the gentlemen pirates'. "Don't suppose you'd be interested in taking up the vacant position? I need at least one man I can trust."
Avery felt his ears burn with excitement. At last, a chance to reunite with the ocean.