The orphanage burnt down in silence. Heat rose to the young girl's face as if hanging over a giant boiling pot of spinach. The book shook in her hands as she waited for the 9 bell tolls from the clock shop outside her little hole above her bed. A pair of footsteps rustled below her bed on the floor below her. They were heavy and giant strides towards the orphanage door. Mr. Lock was leaving for his daily walk out in the town.
The door opened. And shut.
The young girl shot up from her bed and ran towards the exit of the girls' dormitory. Passing all rows of the clean white empty beds against the musty dark floor. She swung around the banister outside the door frame and down the creaky stairwell. The boys, three floors up, peeked over the banister and began to howl in rage for her punishment.
Her bare feet hit the last step and she flung herself towards the front door. She could hear the nurse and cook head her direction. The young girl's heart pumped out of her throat. Hot sweat poured down her cold shivering body. The front door was locked. The boys roared and a stampede of footsteps shook the stairwell above her. The chandelier in the foyer swayed. The boys' voices became louder.
The young girl clutched her book and ran deeper into the house with another idea in mind. She couldn't remember what hallway lead to what room or even the exit. She took a dark hallway and smelled rotten carrots and saw a dim light reflected off of pots and pans in one room which flashed past her. Where was the back door? All the doors she tried were locked. Her head spun in nausea.
She could feel London vibrate through the walls. She could see the ship on the ocean. She saw herself approaching the man she longed to meet, Captain Jack Sparrow. So many adventures, thrills, and excitement awaited her. She wanted out.
Finally, she saw daylight through an old glass door. Locked. But she kicked it till it shattered.
The London's crisp air shot her. Snow drizzled from the sky and the whiteness of the streets and sky blinded her eyes. She heard the familiar stampede and hopped down the old stairs and into London itself, burying her identity in the crowds.
People rushed past her with bags. Some smelled of lavender or mint while some smelled of liquor and mud. They walked jumbled in groups. They laughed and smiled while occasionally a woman would slap a man and kick him. Craziness mixed with innocence. Horses trotted past with gold carriages and hungry dogs would bark at the butcher for food.
Then it hit her. What if Mr. Lock saw her outside of the orphanage? She ran towards an abandoned alley and pried the book from her hands. She flipped to the first dog-eared page.
"As a young lover, attempting to become apart of a crew to find Will, I dressed as a man. I had to sneak into a local pub and make myself known to the pirates. I had to show them who I was and that I could live the life on the sea"
The young girl's eyes shot wide open. She stood in the alley and frantically searched for a pub or some kind of drunkard. Finally she noticed a man cradling a chicken mumbling a song in an intersection. She grabbed her courage as well as her breath.
"Sir?" The young girl asked. Feeling small as always.
The man danced with the chicken. The young girl wondered if he was so drunk he couldn't hear her or if he was ignoring her all the way.
"Sir!" She said louder and clapped her hand.
The drunk man fell back along with his chicken which squalled in rage.
"Never clap ye' hands to a drunkn' man!" He said, "That's how Liza and I ended!"
"Where is the nearest pub? I need to go there for an interview" The young girl said, keeping her eyes on the crowds, wondering if Mr. Lock had seen her.
"Why's that? A young female like ye'? Some young prostitute!" He laughed.
"I'm not a prostitute and this is very important!" The young girl demanded.
The drunk man met eyes with the young girl and nodded. He picked up his raging chicken and directed her to the nearest pub. He noticed the book she cradled next to her chest.
"I was a pirate once miss," the drunk man said, "now look what happen' to me?"
The young girl stopped dead in her tracks.
"You're a pirate?" She said. Wide eyed.
"Was" he corrected, "And there aren't many female pirates sailin' these days. Too hard. And you're too young. So I better not leave ye' here. Where did ye' come from?" The drunk man said outside the pub. A big breasted lady had just pushed another drunkard off the side of the porch.
"I am old enough. What does it matter if I'm a woman? I came from an orphanage and you're not taking me back there!" The young girl ordered.
The drunk man had sadness in his eyes.
"Cut ye' hair and get some clothes from the bin inside the door next to the prostitute's rooms. Lower ye' voice like a young man. Don't mention that Captain Jack … cause you'll sure get it coming." The man said, and then he left her.