Author's note: So here's my first story (; I hope you enjoy it! Updates should be pretty quick, seeing as I don't have much going on in my life right now. So now, without further ado, I present 'One of a Kind.'
Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean although I do wish Jack was mine. :3
Chapter 1
My eyes scanned the tavern, resting on any filthy, loudmouthed scum who might resemble my target. Unfortunately for me, that was half the population of Tortuga.
Suddenly, I spotted him, bellowing over the noise any normal Saturday night brings to The Faithful Bride. Most likely telling lies to the poor sops surrounding him. Quickly, remembering the coordinates of his table in the busy pub, I hurried to the bar and paid Evelyn, the barkeep, for a room.
"Odd to see women do that..." she asked with good natured suspicion.
"Believe me, dear, the man who will be blessing me with his presence this evening is not high on that particular list. He has less value than dirt. Oh and I'll need to borrow some rouge and powder."
Evelyn smirked. "It's one of those times, is it? You overreact too much, Thompson. What did this one do?"
"Killed my brother."
The small smile immediately vanished from her sun kissed face, replaced by a look of deepest sympathy. "Oh Sadie, I'm so sorry." she breathed, resting a hand on her heart.
My serious expression wavered slightly as I swallowed the lump forming in the back of my throat . I had long since gotten over his death, but the wound was opened once more when I found out who had caused it. He would pay.
I pursed my lips slightly and looked down, tapping my finger on a wet spot on the bar, probably rum.
Finally, I found the dignity to look at her and asked her again if she had any makeup to spare. She told me that I could use some in her room, so I headed up the stairwell and to her bedroom on the second floor. I tossed my bag on her small bed and invaded her vanity drawers until I found a small container of rouge and a powder puff.
I tugged off my trousers and shirt and pulled a whore dress over my head. I stared at myself in the mirror, amazed that the absence of britches could make me look so different. Remembering that I had to make haste, I tore my eyes away from my foreign reflection.
With slight disgust, I applied rouge to my lips and powder to my cheeks and nose. After perfecting it as best as I could, I put my ashy blonde hair in a braid going down my back. I pushed up my corset, making my breasts look ridiculously exaggerated. Before I forgot, I attached a loaded pistol to my inner thigh. With one last glance at my temporary new look, I sighed at headed down the stairs.
Evelyn was polishing a glass behind the bar as I approached her.
"Wow! You most certainly clean up nice."
"That is not a compliment. I look horrid."
She chuckled lightly as she set the mug down.
"Can I ask you a favor?"
"Depends..." she said as she picked up another glass.
"Can I pretend that I work here for tonight?"
"Oh of course you can," she said dismissively.
"Thanks." I stated. "I need to be over by the one with the green bandana," I gestured with a hand.
"Oh that's table three. Just go over there and ask for refills or something."
she said, knowing me and that I would figure out.
"Alright then,"
I made my way through the maze of tables, past prostitutes on pirate laps and drunks dozing off in pools of drool.
"Peter, this is for you." I whispered to myself as my gaze fell on the unpleasant man a few feet away from me.
Curt Reynolds. His hair hung in greasy locks, framing his porous face. That was his most unfavorable feature. Dry skin, complete with scars and scratches. And smack in the middle was his large, unusually oily nose, composed of some sort of cringe worthy red color.
He sent my skin crawling. But I did my best to put a smile on my face as I approached the small, cramped table.
"Can I get you boys something else? Wine? Little rum?"
Curt seemed to not hear me, as well as the other men.
So I did the next thing that popped into my mind. "Oh my God! Is that Captain Curt Reynolds? I've only heard stories! You are quite the talk of the ladies down at Madame Penelope's brothel, let me tell you."
That caught his attention. He smirked at his men revealing some crooked teeth. He then said, "And who might you be, beautiful?"
My heart leapt into my throat as I voiced the first name that came into my mind. "Johanna Carver, sir." I gushed flirtatiously, substituting my name with a friend's.
"Ah! Pretty... Very pretty indeed..." He whispered, causing an unpleasant churn in my stomach. "How's about we get a room after this? Right after ye get me crew here a couple more rounds of your finest port and rum, eh?"
I tried my best to give him a saucy wink and replied, "That would be lovely."
His crew around him started talking happily and slapping Curt on the back.
As soon as my back was turned I shuddered and heads towards the bar.
"So how'd it go?" Evelyn asked, in her usual position.
"I told him I heard he was good in bed. Said he'd get a room for as soon as I brought back more drinks for his men."
Evelyn's lip twitched in disgust. "And what are you gonna do with him once yer upstairs?"
"I'll think of something," I replied slowly as I began piling my tray with glasses and bottles of wine and rum.
Once again, I was at their table and passed glasses around to the other men where Curt winked and started heading towards the bar to pay for a room. "Oh there's no need for that, Captain... We'll use mine." I said sweetly, suddenly remembering the weapon I had strapped to my leg.
"Okay then, shall we?" he offered, taking my hand. I almost tore it away but remembered what I had to do.
"We shall." I stated squeezing his hand playfully as we strode to the staircase.
"Hey Captain! Mind if I have my turn with her once you're through?" one man bellowed and bursts out laughing. The crew joined in and hand that wasn't attached to Curt clenched secretly.
"Oh I'm afraid the lass won't be up for anything else tonight after I'm through with her." Curt grumbled suggestively.
I cringed inwardly and then stated, "Or possibly, the other way around."
The crew immediately started talking and I took that as our opportunity to head upstairs.
I lead him through the hallways until I came to a door that had a piece of paper that read, "Thompson" on the door. Before Curt could see it, I opened the door and tugged him inside. To my relief he let go of my hand and bolted the door behind us. I lay on the bed, pondering the plan I had I my head.
He turned around and I realized he still had his pistol in a holster on his belt. Quickly I said, "We're not going to need that now are we?" I said, gesturing to his weapon. Before he could do anything, I yanked it off of him and put it in a nightstand drawer.
He honestly didn't seem to be phased by that and sat next to me. His rough hands caressed my face clumsily and I pretended to look like I was enjoying myself. I ran my fingers through his awful hair and pressed our foreheads together.
Suddenly, there was a pounding on the door and we jumped.
Curt immediately stood and wrenched open the door to find a few of his crew mates standing there, looking angry.
"Oi, Cap'n! That girls not who you think she is. She rented this room before hand, she don't work 'ere! And the name on the door says 'Thompson', like the bloke who we killed a couple 'o months ago?"
I bit my lip as I quickly stood. In the process of explaining this to his captain, the man had made an opening in the doorway. I bolted through, the men shouting behind me.
I tore down the stairs, past a confused looking Evelyn and out into the warm night.
The crew wasn't far behind. I raced down to the beaches, where I realized there was some sort of celebration going on. Men and women alike were shooting their guns into the sky while a huge bonfire burned. A couple of folks were playing instruments and everyone was screaming lyrics to a song I'd never heard before.
But that didn't stop me. I sprinted to the docks, sure that my heart would burst. There my ship was, docked, and looking beautiful as ever, Libre. It means free in French, my home country. But I pushed on as I ran up the gangplank. My crew was lazily roaming the ship, half of them missing. Probably in the galley.
"Alright men!" I shouted, startling a few. "Christopher, take the helm! Down with the sails, gentlemen! Push off! Get us out of the bay!"
"Captain?" Willy, my young cabin boy, asked tentativly.
"What?" I snapped, annoyed that he wasn't bustling around like the other men.
"I think the boy means to ask how it went," intercepted Marcus, the cook.
"Ah, yes, of course." I sighed, coming to my senses. "He's still alive. It was a failed attempt."
They both nodded solemnly and hurried off to work.
"What's our heading?" shouted Christopher at the helm.
"Make for that small supplies island by Port Royal, you know the one. But take down the jolly rodger before we get too close, we don't want trouble from those redcoats, now do we?"
He nodded in confirmation. So with that, I turned and headed for my cabin.
It's a small, musty thing, slightly cramped from the furniture and souvenirs from my travels. But it was home. I tugged off my boots and collapsed on my bunk, sighing.
How could I be so stupid? I should've shot him as I ran. I knew I could've managed it.
Realizing I was still in my ghastly dress, I changed into more fitting ware and lay back down.I figured we would be there soon, so I closed my eyes for a moments rest. But before I knew it, I was asleep.
I awoke to a light knocking on my cabin door.
"Yes?" I muttered sleepily.
"We're here, Captain." piped Willy's nervous voice.
"Okay." I replied as I stifled a yawn. "Be right out."
I slipped in my boots and ran my ringers through my hair.
I stepped outside into the balmy, summer night.
It was probably just after midnight. I sent Willy and Marcus out to fetch some basic supplies and ingredients for meals.
The rest of the men took this as an opportunity to sleep for a bit before we pushed off again.
I made my way off the gangplank and onto the warm sand, the water from the increasing tide lapping against my boots as I walked inland.
I paced around for awhile, pondering what do with myself next when there was quite a commotion coming from the shore. Naturally, I sprinted towards my precious vessel.
I found Christopher barking orders to my men. Seeing as he was my first mate, this was only appropriate. I quickly made my way up the gangplank once more and peered over the side of my ship.
Not too far away, a Port Royal navy ship was gliding towards us. What could they want?
"Lower the rodger!" I commanded, as Grunt slowly climbed to the nest and removed the flag.
"Slowly now," I almost whispered. He made his way down and said, "What 're they doin' here?"
"How could I possibly know?" I said.
"Cap'n, you want us to shove off?" one man asked.
"No. They've got us trapped." I replied simply. "Let's just see what they want and be on with our lives.
Suddenly, a voice from the approaching ship bellowed, "Captain Thompson of Libre, you are under arrest for the murder of General Calvin Archer. Please produce yourself or else we will be forced to attack."
"Formal gits, aren't they?" I muttered under my breath.
My crew mumbled amongst themselves, obviously confused.
Of course they were. They wouldn't have a clue.
A couple of months ago, while running away from some red coats, I came to a dead end and just shot at whoever I could as a last resort. I later discovered that one of the men I took down was Calvin Archer, navy general of Port Royal.
It wasn't my fault. I didn't know!
Before I could think of anything, I slipped into my cabin without notice of the navy and found myself stripping off my clothes and putting on the whore dress once more.
I came back out, putting on my best surprised expression and winking silently to my crew.
"What seems to be the problem?" I asked innocently.
"Miss, we're here for Captain Thompson." The official said, unaware that the Captain, or yours truly, was in fact a woman.
"Wait!" A new voice sounded from the ship. "That's her! She killed General Archer! I saw her do it! She's not a whore!"
The words came out quick and breathless from a plump old woman. She was rather petite with annoyingly red cheeks and blonde hair streaked with grey.
"Well if the witness says so… Get her!" One of the navy men said, and that sent them grappling onto my beautiful ship. Before I knew it, I was being held tightly by some muscular redcoats.
I looked at my crew frantically but saw them surrounded by the heavily armed navy.
How could this have happened so easily? How was this possible? I was going to be hung… I just knew it. They might as well just shoot me now. But not after what I did. No, they would want a public death. I swallowed, not bothering to fight.
So with that, after a fleeting glance at my men and Libre, I was taken to the navy ship.
Once there, they locked my in the brig. Never in my life had I been so humiliated.
I brought my knees to my chest and buried my face in my dress. Sobs racked my body as I pondered what terrible fate lay just hours away.
Weak, that's what I was. I could've done something to escape. I'm weak.
And with that, I fell asleep.
I awoke. It was one of those pitiful slumbers that leave you with heavy eyelids, aching bones, and making you even more tired than before.
I lay there for a few hours, gazing at the bars that imprisoned me and wondering if I could somehow get through. No. It was impossible.
Soon, the ship docked and men came for me. They blindfolded me and took me to their base's prison.
The blindfold was ripped from my face and I was informed that my trial would be in two days time.
I sighed, wondering if I should just starve myself before I went to the gallows.
Turning around in my small cell, I realized that I wasn't alone.
Well there you have it! It's not the best thing I've ever written, I assure you. I will get better. :) Please tell me what you think! Liked it? Hated it? Constructive criticism welcome! XD