The King and his men
Stole the queen from her bed
And bound her in her bones.
The seas be ours and by the pow'rs
Where we will we'll roam!
Yo, ho, all hands,
Hoist the colours high
Heave, ho, thieves and beggars,
Never shall we die…
Tears slide gently down my face as the song passes by my quivering lips. The song that both sets me free and dooms me to a sudden death. The song of the pirates and the song of my life.
Heavy chains drag on the ground as I am forced forward toward my death. To the gallows. A shudder passes through me. My brother, James, has already breathed his last breath. My brave brother had started the song that both lifts my heart and breaks it into jagged pieces.
Soldiers in bright red coats pass by me. For one fleeting moment, I am ashamed of what I am and almost wish to call out to them saying that I will never steel, murder, or anything else that could delay my death for just a few moments. Anything to breathe the sea air just a moment more and to stare into the setting sun one more time before it flashes green. Just one more moment is all I want.
Lord Beckett sits just feet away with teacup in hand smirking in the sinister way that makes men and women alike fear him. For some reason I am not afraid. Death is opening its door for me and making me strangely brave. I want to scream at him. I want to rip that silly white wig off his head; I want to yell every word of insult that I know at him. I loathe that man and strangely, I pity him. For what, I know not where this pity comes from. However, it is there all together.
The line moves forward again. The song still rings in my ears, though I have stopped singing what seems to be an age ago.
Some have died
And some are alive
And others sail on the sea
With the keys to the cage
And the devil to pay
We lay so Fiddler's Green!
Yo, ho, haul together,
Hoist the colours high
Heave, ho, thieves and beggars
Never say we die…
My eyes drift down to my sodden cloths. The ripped skirts and the faded pink color, the hem that never seemed to stay clean after a long wash, and the yellowing lace that mum had given me. Memories swept through my head as I looked down at my plain dress; Mum, Father, and James, all my family. The trickle of tears began anew.
Through tear-blurred eyes, I looked down at my hands, small and pale white under the brown from dirt. Chained together by unwanted irons no doubt used hundreds of times for the purpose they were being used for now, to take away freedom, to enslave people, and to hold until death took the life of there prisoner.
The line moves forward again. My eyes drift back to lord Beckett. He is still sipping his tea, but he is also staring at someone. He is staring at me. His eyes travel up and down me. I do not feel afraid as he does this. Merely curious as to why he is looking at me. I stand taller and raise my chin in a fashion known to be my "yes, I see you, now go away, now". I knew what would happen. My eyes would turn from an inviting blue to ice. My face would harden and then the Lord Beckett would look away and I would carry on. But I was wrong, Lord Beckett merely smirked and stared right back at me. His eyes turning to ice, just as mine had done seconds ago and over powered my cold stare. I gasped and turned my head.
Once again the line moved forward with a cruel tug of the chains. The song continues to drift around me. My frail body is shoved to the top of the gallows. I stare straight out in front of me, not bothering to look back at the man who condemned me to this. I stand as straight as I can and await my coming untimely death. The thick brown rope is pushed around my head to rest on my neck. Words begin to poor out of my lips. The last verse of the song that is my life.
The bell has been raised
From its watery grave.
Do you hear its sepulchral tune?
A call to all,
Pay heed to the squall
And turn your sails to home.
Yo, ho, all hands,
Hoist the colours high
Heave, ho, thieves and beggars
Never shall we die…
The creek of the lever fills my ears; a cool breeze blows around me, and then nothing.