Disclaimer: I have no claim to any part of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. The original characters and original plots are owned by me.
Escape
"There's no turning back now," whispered the gypsy, as he disappeared into the gloom of the moonless Cornish night, leaving me standing at water's edge.
His words sent an icy tremor through me, but who turns back when the devil himself is giving chase?
The feeble lights of Pencarren did nothing to dispel the darkness at the shoreline, but that suited my purpose. Under my hat, the ends of my newly-cropped hair, darkened with indigo and henna, whipped about my neck. The night air was cold, but I had no cloak - only the haphazardly assembled gypsy garb which the Romanys had provided to aid in my escape. My last, bleak hope was pinned on one old friend of my late father, but the harbour was silent and half empty.
For the thousandth time, I touched the locket hanging from my neck.
Just then, someone gave a soft, low whistle. I turned towards the nearby fishing quay and moved cautiously forward, peering at the black shadows beneath it. Wading into the shallow water under the dock, I held my breath. I was almost certain I could hear the slap of the water against the hull of a boat, invisible in the darkness.
I edged closer.
A pair of powerful arms seized me before I could make a sound, pulling me over the gunwale and into the boat. A gruff voice at my ear said, "Hush - lie down!"
I lay down in the bottom of the boat, clutching the bag that contained my few belongings, as unseen hands threw a quantity of burlap over me. Someone moved about, standing in the boat, and the small craft rocked and scraped against the piers as it was maneuvered out from under the wharf. My companion took a seat and I heard him begin to pull the oars, rowing us away from shore.
After some time, he ceased rowing."We're past the harbour entrance," he said. "Ye can come out from under that sackin'."
I struggled out from under the burlap and took a seat. The person who had effected my escape was sitting opposite me, oars in hand, and proceeded to study me for several moments. His silhouette revealed him to be a tall man with a broad back and strong arms, but I could not make out his face or any other details.
"Name's Rufus," he said at last, in a West Country accent. "Ship's layin' by, round the point over there. Sorry, but ye'll have t' climb the laddar. Cap'n says any closer t' port would be very unwise indeed."
He resumed rowing as he talked. "We have our own ways o' doin' things, I expect ye know. Ye'll find out more aboard ship - but hark, now: when I take ye up the laddar, yer m' dattur, Jenny, an' yer goin' straight to yer quarters, right? Try not t' look about, nor say nothin'. No questions, no stoppin', right?"
"Yes." My throat and chest were tight. So I was not yet safe, even on the ship belonging to my father's closest friend.
As we rounded the point, I saw the well-loved ship laying by. The longboat drew next to the hull, and Rufus motioned me to remain, while he climbed the ladder first, taking my bag with him. Next, he leaned down and indicated that I could now ascend the rungs that led up from the chilly dark water. His strong hands reached down to hoist me on to the deck, and I was on board the Misty Ladyat last.
As I tried to keep my gaze focused downward, Rufus seized me by my arm and steered me to the main hatchway, down the steps, and into a very small cabin. The room was furnished with a narrow berth, small looking glass, and wooden shelf which held a lantern, bottle of rum, and two tankards. He tossed my bag on the floor and adjusted the lantern. I sat on the berth, every muscle tensed, as he stood with arms crossed, his back against the closed door.
He stared down at me with a grim set to his mouth. "I'm the ship's doctor," he said.
Now that I could see him, I thought he cut a most extraordinary figure for a doctor. Rufus was a man of perhaps sixty years, taller than average, very roughly dressed, and his long, heavy, raw-boned arms were bared to the elbows. His hands were outsized, with elongated, gnarled fingers; I thought he would have triumphed easily in a prize fight. Silver-grey hair was scraped back from his badly-shaven face and bound into a very long frizzled pigtail that almost reached his waist. His face was seamed, with a deep scar across his nose, and his gaze was hard and direct, under his straight grey eyebrows. He had a somewhat wide mouth that curved down at the corners, in a perfect arc of disapproval.
"Cap'n's just goin' t' step round an' greet ye here." He cocked his head to one side and paused for a few moments before finally declaring, "I never met yer father - ee were before my time. But Teague says ee were a brave and loyal friend. King or pirate, lord or gypsy, 'twere no matter to Cap'n Harry Houlton Bitter," he nodded, "an' Teague means t' see ye right."
There was the sound of footsteps at the door, and Rufus quickly opened it to admit Captain Teague. I breathed a deep sigh of relief as my host poured a tot of rum for me and one for himself. Rufus, still grim-faced, stepped outside the door and shut it behind him.
"Welcome aboard, Nina," Captain Teague said, as he handed me the rum. His quiet voice was low and slurred, and his aspect tended to alarm those who, unlike myself, had not known him since childhood. He still retained some of his youthful looks, but I noticed that his finely chiselled face had aged over time, becoming marked with an ever increasing quantity of lines and scars, while his mouth had lost its youthful shape and was starting to become heavier and looser. And yet, his eyes were just as I remembered them, as dark and intense as the midnight sky.
"Thank you, Captain," I said, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. "You've saved my life. I can never repay you-"
"Say no more, love," he replied. "Don't you speak of repaying me." He studied the bottle at his hand for a few moments, and I braced myself for questions on the horrific events that had led me to this desperate course.
But he took up another subject entirely. "What'll you do in Port Royal?" he asked. Thank heaven, I was to be questioned about the future and not the past!
"Since my father taught me so much of medicines and herbs, I thought to apply to any physician or apothecary that will have me."
My rescuer considered this for a moment, nodding slowly. "Sounds reasonable." He paused, and then leaned forward, gently moving the edge of my sleeve to expose the dark bruising on my elbow. "But... the trick is," he said, indicating the discoloration, "what'll you do ifthey find you there someday?"
I drew my sleeve back down with unsteady fingers. I had no answer.
"Your father taught you more than just bits of herbs 'n' such," he went on. "What about those other skills? They're more than practice and play. Many a time they saved 'im from death. A King's Messenger's life can match a pirate's for danger."
I looked at a corner of the cabin, unwilling to say what I truly thought - that it wasa wretched shame those skills couldn't save him from a lonely, gruesome death at the end. News of my father's murder had blown a hole through me like a cannon shot. Though my heart was shattered, much to the scandal of the town and my own mortification, I showed no more emotion than a wooden doll. In truth, I could not weep, for I was barely able to breathe. And the events of the following weeks brought such horrors that my every thought was bent upon staying alive.
Teague finished his rum. "Still 'ave the badge, Nina?"
I nodded, indicating the rumpled sack at my feet: the silver greyhound on the blue ribbon was safe in its small leather box. "I took his badge and pistols - and the scimitar."
Although able to use a proper sword, I was forced to leave my father's finest weapon hidden on a high shelf in my room. I could barely fit the shorter Turkish blade into the small sack.
"And this." I held up the locket.
Teague frowned and looked closely at the miniature inside. "That's all you have of him? Not much of a likeness - might be your uncle's face."
"Then, please tell me," I asked, yielding to a matter of great perplexity to me, "why did he never speak of his brother's existence, nor warn me of his character? I always believed that my father and I had no other living kin."
He hesitated for a time, as if he was unsure where to begin. At last, he shook his head. "Your father did as he thought was best for you, for many reasons. I won't second-guess the man. For now, you keep faith with him and steer your course by all he taught you, and you'll be safe as houses." And he refused to be drawn out further on this matter.
"You know we have our own ways here," he told me. "Rufus'll be your sentinel. He'll explain. And here's a bit of compensation for you." From his waistcoat pocket, he withdrew a small, thick packet wrapped in parchment and handed it to me. Then, before I could read the handwritten label, he departed.
Rufus entered once more, and I set the packet aside. He seemed to consider his words for a moment, and then began instructing me. "Gentlemen of fortune," he announced, "have got their own rules; an' one of 'un is no women or boys on board." As I started to protest, he held up his hand. "But ships 'ave got a rule fer handlin' such a thing, in case it can't be avoided. On the Misty Lady, the rule is: Cap'n appoints a sentinel t' protect the person from disputes an', uh, other intentions that might set the crew a-fightin'. He appointed me. Ye have naught t' fear from me; I'll keep ye safe an' in health all the way t' Port Royal."
Having delivered the first topic of his lecture, he paused a moment before proceeding, pouring rum into Captain Teague's tankard and drinking it off.
"Now, seein' that yur a friend of the Cap'n," he said, "an' ye have a price on yer head, we have t' make sure no one knaws who ye are. Twon't do no good t' hide ye in yer quartars if the crew thinks there's gold t' be had from those huntin' ye. So ye ain't Nina Bitter until ye gets t' Port Royal."
He squinted at me, making sure I attended to each word. "On board the Misty Lady, yer m' dattur Jenny, an' yer t' help me as surgeon's assistant. I'll vouch for ye, an' the tale goes that I bargained with the Cap'n fer free passage t' the Indies for ye. Can ye do that?"
"Yes; I'm Jenny and you're my father, and - what's my surname?"
"Smith," he replied.
"Jenny Smith, and I'm your assistant. But I know nothing of surgery. How am I to manage that?"
"I'll see to it," he answered. "I'll give ye a bit of trainin', an' ye can watch an' help. Cap'n says yur able t' use yur head fer more than wearin' a hat." He looked at me skeptically, as if waiting for a denial.
"I enjoy learning," I insisted. "I promise to apply myself with a will."
"Good," he said. "Apart from that, ye need t' keep yer cabin. I'll bring victuals, books, drink, whatever ye need. I'll lock 'un in from the outside, an' ye'll have another lock ye can use from the inside."
I hesitated, not wishing to doubt him, but unable to rest without making sure. "What if some one picks the lock?"
He glared at me as if I had insulted him. "That's a low, underhanded business, an' no self-respectin' pirate traffics in it. I've never met 'un who could or would pick a lock, all the years I've followed the trade."
"I do apologise, Ruf- ah, Father," I said. "I see that you and Captain Teague have been at some pains to devise a plan, and I'm sure the arrangements will work very well indeed. I'm very thankful for all your efforts."
Rufus smiled, the arc of his mouth reversing itself to a smooth upward curve that was the inverse of his habitual sour expression. "Very fair spoke, Miss- Jenny," he said. "I'll leave ye t' get some rest now. I'll start trainin' ye up a bit tomorrow." He eyed my figure for a moment. "An' I'll bring ye some cloth t' bind 'un breasts with - no sense in presentin' any more temptation than necessary."
My face grew hot and I nodded.
Once Rufus departed and I heard the scrape of the key in the lock, I locked my side of the door. Then I turned to the packet on my berth. Examining the wrapper, I found this brief inscription in my father's hand: For dear Nina, who loves the study of language. Practice makes perfect. From her loving Father. My hands shook as I tucked the wrapper under my pillow, unable to be parted from anything that recalled his memory to me.
There were only three small books in the packet, and none looked very diverting. One appeared to be a brief, leather bound collection of travel memoirs in a somewhat antique form of Spanish, another was a commonplace book in my father's writing, with rather mundane notes on various commissions from his career as a King's Messenger, and the third was a copy of the Odyssey in Latin. I tried to settle on this for my reading, but the tale of wandering sailors seeking their home made my spirits fall very low.
Eventually, I extinguished the lantern, and laid myself down to sleep. I found that the small size of the room and the locked door put me at my ease and made me feel safe. I wondered if I could find some accommodation of similar size in Port Royal. If only I could manage to disappear like a rabbit down its hole! I sent my thoughts sailing away from the world around me like paper ships, as I drifted to sleep.
During the next several days, each morning was devoted to studying anatomy with Rufus in Teague's day room, while I gave my afternoons to reading books in my cabin.
Rufus was a knowledgeable teacher despite his broad, country speech and hard ways, and I never tired of asking him questions about the procedures under study. He had some natural curiosity about my history, which surfaced one day at the end of a lesson on the proper way to extract splinters and lead shot.
"Cap'n thought the world of yer old dad," he said. "They shared many an expedition over the years. I was wonderin' how it all begun?"
"I don't actually know," I replied. "They were fast friends long before my time. The Captain used to visit Highcliffe House with young Jacky. Most nights, we would pass the evenings amongst the gypsies. Other times, the men would sit before the fire at Highcliffe, drinking and yarning about my father's days as a King's Messenger."
Rufus looked perplexed at this. "Now that name's a puzzlement to me. Do you mean ee woz like one o' them post boys?"
"Not at all. The King would give his most private letters to my father, to be conveyed by safe-hand anywhere in the world - and he was sworn to defend them even to his own death. He usually travelled alone, by any means he could, with diplomatic immunity. More than once the family thought him lost forever."
"And a' course, then, the catastrophe," Rufus said, watching me as he cleverly shifted his questioning to more recent developments.
"We all know," he went on, sidestepping how this knowledge reached his ears, "how yer uncle did ye out o' home an' fortune, an' sent yer young man away. I'm bound t' say not even a pirate would use his kin so cruel - not many of his close kin, anyways."
Although Rufus was generally as hard as a bucket of iron nails, he meant his words kindly. Nonetheless, they cut me to the quick, and I flushed as I thought of how my uncle had disposed of my engagement to handsome James Norrington.
Seeing my stricken face, Rufus hastened to make amends. "Don't take on so, lass - ee's young and foolish, yet may come round in the end. Don't ee follow the sea? Mayhap ye'll find him in Port Royal someday!"
I shook my head, almost in tears. That was the last thing I desired. James would certainly repudiate me now.
Rufus said no more, and I looked up to see that Teague had entered the room and was fixing Rufus with a dark stare. Anxious to spare Rufus from any trouble, I began a different line of conversation.
"Good morning, Captain," I said. "I've heard so much activity on deck today that I had determined to ask you where we are."
"Tenerife," Teague said, "taking on provisions. We'll have enough left at the end to stay out of ports for a time. Even then, we've got other ways to replenish our store." This last was said with a sidelong look at Rufus, who tried to hide a half-smile.
"How are you managing?" Teague asked me, with the same look of watchful concern he had been giving me throughout the voyage.
"I'm managing well, thanks to you," I said, "and I'm making some progress in my medical training."
Teague nodded. "Ready to be called upon if needed?"
"Ye-ess," I stammered.
"She's a clever maid," Rufus put in. "I think she'll do. We've just finished up for the day, Cap'n. Be out of yer way directly." He quickly gathered his books and escorted me back to my cabin.
The details I had revealed to Rufus that morning either proved sufficient to supply his curiosity, or Teague may have intervened; however it came about, I was spared any further friendly interrogations for the remainder of the voyage.
The practical phase of my medical education began early the following morning with an abrupt knock on my door.
"Jen! Up wi' ye!" Rufus shouted at the keyhole. I was already awake and dressed, so I unlocked the door and opened it to find him holding a bloody rag against his head. The knuckles of his hands had fresh scrapes and cuts. "Yer needed in me surgery - now!" he said, pulling me out of my cabin.
Alarmed, I stepped out quickly; Rufus locked the door and grabbed my wrist. He almost dragged me down the steps to the gun deck and began marching me towards the bow of the ship, kicking the legs of the sleeping gunners as we passed. "Out o' me way, dogs," he growled. We reached the ship's surgery, a small, foul-smelling room in the bow, and he drew me in through the curtain at its entrance.
"Now," he said, "ye'll see why ye need a sentinel." He removed the rag, exposing a deep, bloody cut, about two inches long, over his left eye. "Ye need t' stitch it up the way I showed ye with the oranges; tes bleedin' too much t' let it be. Tes drippin' in me eyes fit t' blind 'un." He took up a bottle of rum from the floor and set it upon a small table. "That's fer after. I need t' guide ye first."
He glanced at my hands, which were shaking. "Steady, m'girl. Get a breath into ye. Tesn't no different than stitchin' a leather glove." I took a deep breath and threaded the needle he gave me. Although I was very hard pressed to remain calm at first, I found that I became unexpectedly absorbed in the work of neatly closing the wound, and I felt a flush of pride when Rufus inspected my handiwork in a glass and nodded approval. "I'll make a doctor of ye yet," he said. "Ye knaw why tes best t' be the ship's doctor? Tes because ye don't sign the articles." I realised he meant the Articles of Piracy that most pirate ships required.
"Officially, yer counted as a presoner," he went on, "an' should the ship be taken, ye won't face the drop. A' course, they pay 'un a share of the booty - but off the books." He opened the rum with his teeth, took a swig, and offered the bottle to me.
I took a drink, and pointed to his injuries. "What led to this?" I asked him. He grinned, although the hawk-like expression in his eyes never changed.
"There was two gentlemen interested in makin' yer acquaintance this mornin'. They met up wi' me unexpected-like an' tried t' take me key; I gave 'em a good cootin', an' they scat 'un on the head."
Apprehension overtook me immediately, as though I were back in Pencarren. "Will you point them out to me so I can avoid them?" I asked.
"They won't trouble ye again," he answered flatly. "They've left the ship." His stare left me in no doubt as to his meaning.
Rufus escorted me back to my cabin by way of the captain's quarters. Teague looked up from his chart table as we entered. "All right then?" he asked us.
"Ais, Cap'n," replied Rufus.
Teague glanced at me. "Seems yer becomin' a surgeon," he remarked with the hint of a smile. "You'll do well in Port Royal." He nodded, dismissing us, and Rufus made for the door, but I lingered a moment longer with a more personal question on my mind.
"I was wondering, Captain . . . what do you hear from Jacky?" I finally brought out, feeling keenly the absence of my closest childhood friend. "I haven't seen him for two years now. It does all seem so unnatural."
Teague had not yet mentioned his son to me, and I suspected some estrangement between them lay at the root of it. "Oh, he's about," he replied. "Perhaps once you're settled, you'll find yourself in Tortuga for a visit - you'll likely run across him there." He gave me a thoughtful look. "If Port Royal don't suit you, your old mate'll see you right. Jacky always looked after you." I smiled and thanked him as I left, although even in Pencarren I had heard much of Tortuga, and none of it good.
In the following weeks, Rufus allowed me to assist him more in the surgery; however, the crew was in health and I spent most of my time idly looking over Rufus' books, instruments, and medicines. Then came the incident that marked a turning point in my life.
We were in the surgery when I heard a ruckus of voices and someone crying out in great pain. The curtain was pushed aside and the quartermaster brought in a man whose hand was badly wounded and gushing blood. "Damned fool shot 'imself primin' 'is pistol," the quartermaster said with disgust, as he left the surgery.
Rufus examined the man's hand as our patient groaned and cried out. "It has t' come off," he said at last.
I felt myself grow faint as I recalled Rufus' lessons on amputations, but I knew I would be needed. Rufus pulled out the bottle of rum and a stick. He gave the man a long drink of rum, and let him bite down upon the stick. Handing me the tourniquet, he pointed to the man's arm. "Four fingers above 'ere," he told me.
I measured, and applied the tourniquet, which Rufus checked. Drawing out his amputation knife, he cut quickly and expertly to the bone. I held on to the table, fearful of swooning, and indeed it seemed as though the room were turning black around me. I lowered my head for a moment, and gradually my vision cleared. After he secured the arteries, I held the patient's arm steady as Rufus used his saw to cut through the bone in less than a minute. Our patient seemed to be half conscious and in a daze. Rufus pulled the flesh together over the cut and supervised my stitching up the wound.
When the arm was bandaged, I sighed with relief, but Rufus shook his head. "Tesn't finished; help me raise 'is feet an' wrap 'im up warm." We settled the man as best we could in his hammock, according to Rufus' instructions, and went back to clean the surgery.
"That was Kitto," Rufus informed me. "Brother t' one o' them that done this." He indicated his forehead where I had stitched up the cut. "I d' wondar why he'd be primin' his pistol just now. What's t' do in the middle of the ocean wi' a pistol, eh, Jenny?" He gave me a grim smile.
Kitto developed an infection that lasted a few days, but under Rufus' watchful eye, he rallied and was restored to health. I knew that many amputations ended in the patient's death, and Rufus' skill impressed me.
A few days after Kitto had been declared out of danger, I was in the surgery with Rufus, organizing his instruments near the curtained entrance. Rufus was on the far side of the little room making an inventory of his supplies. All at once, the curtain was thrust aside, and Kitto appeared, his back to me, pointing a pistol at Rufus' head.
It seemed to me that time itself slowed to a crawl, as Rufus looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. I remember wondering if my father had also looked surprised when he was murdered. Kitto said, "Got ye!" and his hand began to squeeze the trigger. Rufus, my protector, teacher and friend, was seconds from death.
Suddenly I stirred, not from any conscious impulse, but as if a stranger were directing me. In one swift motion, I stepped towards Kitto, the razor-sharp surgical knife in my hand, and, as if in a dream, drew the blade across his throat. He dropped to the floor, his neck pouring out blood.
I stood frozen to the spot still clutching the knife tightly. My heart was pounding against my ribs and the noise of my breathing seemed loud and rough in my ears. Rufus stepped forward and turned me away from the body, as he pried the knife from my hand. He led me to my cabin, saying some words that I did not catch to one of the crew in passing.
Once in my cabin, he sat me upon the edge of my berth and poured rum into both tankards. My teeth were clenched so tightly it was difficult for me to drink the rum he offered me.
"Did I kill - did I kill that man?" I finally managed to ask, as I stared at the floor.
"Ais, he's gone t' make one o' the damned below," he replied. "An' ye saved the life o' the ship's doctor; seems I owe ye thanks." I concentrated on breathing, and then tried again.
"Are you sure he's dead? Kitto's truly dead?"
"I see," said Rufus, after giving me a puzzled look. "Tes yer first time. Ye learnt t' handle a sword an' a gun, but here tes different: here, tes life an' death. If ye hadn't a' killed him, we'd both of us be dead." He drank his rum, and added, almost to himself, "Twill never be that hard again." Seeing that I continued to sit like a mindless wooden doll, Rufus sat next to me and threw an arm about my shoulders. "Tes alright, lass; tes alright," he said, "I knaw how ye feel." We sat in silence for some time. At last he patted my head, and said "I'll need a word wi' Cap'n now. Ye can keep yer cabin today an' I'll look in later."
I spent the day trying to read, and most of the night as well. At first, I would stare at my hand, unable to fathom how it had held the knife and cut Kitto's throat. But then another thought came to me: if not for my hand, Rufus would have been killed today. Had I been changed forever? Or had I always been capable of this? Gradually, I came to see that I would do it again - to protect my friends, to avenge a wrong. That was the truth about me.
It was as though I had never really known my own character. Nonetheless, each time I fell asleep that night, I dreamt of Kitto, sitting in my cabin with his throat cut, saying "Got ye!" and I would awake with a jolt of horror.
From that day on, Rufus took a strange sort of pride in me, as if I truly were a favorite daughter. I seemed to have won his respect, and he redoubled his efforts to educate me as our friendship grew stronger.
After a few more weeks at sea, we anchored near the Port Royal road, and I prepared to disembark.
It took but a few moments to pack my belongings in the sack: badge in leather case, two pistols, scimitar, boy's clothing, little books, and the heavy, cut braid of my hair. Now I could carry all my worldly goods with one hand, I marveled.
"Oi! Jen!" Rufus called through the door, "Cap'n intends t' send ye ashore. Are ye ready?"
"Yes, Father!" I touched my locket which rested on the lacy ruffle of my borrowed gown. Turning to the small looking glass, I pinned the braid to my hair, winding it around and tucking the ends of my hair into the semblance of a proper coiffure. I took one last inventory of my cabin before taking up my sack.
When I emerged, I spied Teague on the quarterdeck. He nodded slightly in my direction as I caught his eye.
Rufus saw me quickly into the longboat and began rowing for shore. "Sorry for the hurry," he said. "Fair wind at the moment, an' we've business elsewhere." As we neared the shore, he offered a last bit of advice. "Hark now, miss: ye'll find persons in Port Royal usin' names that ain't properly their own. They've many a reason, and who can say what they are. I advise ye t' take a name other than 'Bitter' - t' fox anyone bearin' tales back to yer uncle Hanibal."
He fixed me with a piercing stare, and although the weather was hot and sunny, the chill of that Cornish midnight surrounded me once more.
"I should recommend," he continued, "perhaps matchin' the 'B' on yer pistols...'Branwell', or 'Boscawen'."
I nodded, unable to speak.
When the longboat reached the dock, I disembarked stealthily. Another ship had made port, and I mingled unnoticed amongst its passengers. Walking through the strangers in Port Royal, it struck me that my father's old friend might be the last familiar face from home that I would ever see, unless I could get on the track of his son in Tortuga.
But the prospect of Tortuga alarmed me. It was full of lawless cutthroats on an endless spree, using ill-gotten gold and plentiful liquor to fuel every form of debauchery imaginable. Jacky might not even be there, and if I did find him, what sort of men would he now count as friends? Anything was possible. I decided to keep to Port Royal until I could overcome my feelings of unease.
Next: Chapter 2 - Captain Jack Sparrow - In which a new life is interrupted by an old friend