My long forlorn tale begins on one of my voyages nearly seventeen years ago. My crew and I had just begun another journey after taking a short break at our safe haven of Madagascar, where I had found out that Claretta was three months into pregnancy. Then, it had nearly been thirty-three years since we had our first and only child at the time, Jack. Be that as it may, this pleasant surprise did not go in silence, and I would proudly boast about the news to anyone who dared to hear. Soon, the word of Claretta and I expecting our second child after over three decades seemed to spread everywhere. You can assume that I was enthusiastic about becoming a father again, because I assure you that I was, regardless of the unknown pain my unborn child would soon bring.

There was one particular night were my crew and I had found ourselves in the tiny, yet brutal pirating town of Tortuga. After working all day at the docks, repairing any damage that may had been done to the Misty Lady, we decided to stop our work for the day and spend some time at the Faithful Bride. The night was warm and humid, and the small pub was crowded with other pirates and wenches. It was not long before the usual brawl broke out, soon accompanied with sounds of guns going off, people jeering them on, and the band playing a cheery tune, unfittingly joining in as the uproar's soundtrack. I seated myself by the bar, watching the commotion with amusement and disgust, sipping rum. As the long night went on, I drank more and became reserved with my thoughts. I wondered about Claretta and the pregnancy. It had been a long time since she had given to birth to Jackie. What would be the possibility of something going wrong? I had heard that sometimes a child may be born defective if the mother had given birth to it if she was older. Then also, would things end up like with Jackie? He had ran away when he was still just a child, nearly tearing the family apart. I began to worry. Setting my drink down, I slowly stood up from my seat and exited the Faithful Bride, making my way to the Misty Lady for the night. However, my walk was short-lived, when I heard one of my crewmembers calling me. "Captain! Captain Teague!"

I turned around. There was my crewmember---a stout man by the name of Hermes--who was accompanied by a woman with wild dreadlocks and was heavily disheveled.

"Captain, this woman claims to know you," he said, motioning to her.

I held up my hand in thanks. "Thank you, Hermes." He nodded and left me alone with her, who had a wildly concerning look in her eyes. Recognizing her, I said, puzzled, "Calypso?"

Calypso, then in the form of a woman known as Tia Dalma, simply smiled and said, "Do not act so surprised, Captain Teague."

"What are you doing here, my dear?" I grabbed her arm and walked her into a dark alleyway, to obtain some privacy.

Her smile faded, and her voice dropped to a dull tone so fast I did not notice it at first. "I am terribly sorry if I have caught you at a bad time, Captain."

"Of course not, my dear," I shook my head. "Is something wrong? Why aren't you at the Pelegosto Island?"

A rueful look came across her face. "Captain Teague, I have some very tragic news I have found out just a few days ago--" she started out.

"What is it? It isn't Claretta, is it?" I asked, trying as best as I could to not show my perplexity.

"No, it is not your wife," she answered, but before I could breathe a sigh of relief, she said, "It is about the child she is carrying. Your daughter."

"My--My daughter--?" Claretta and I were going to have a girl?

"I was practicing the runes a few nights ago, not expecting much to happen, when all of a sudden--" She paused for a moment, before saying, "I noticed something that seemed wrong. It was something I have never seen before while practicing the runes."

"What was it?" I asked.

She said simply, "The illness of a child."

There was silence for a few moments. Then, I asked her, "So, you are saying that my daughter will be--?"

"She will be born with her illness," Tia explained, "and there will be a mark to prove it."

I stood there, silent, staring at her face, feeling uneasy. A mark? What kind of mark?

I asked her, but she just shook her head and said, "You will find out soon enough, Captain Teague. But I can tell you, it will not be easy to raise your daughter the way she will be. It is a very serious illness, which will not only affect her life greatly, but yours as well."

Her words resonated throughout my head the rest of the journey, tantalizing me. I wondered about what she had meant about what she said; some sort of marking that would represent my daughter's illness. Would that mean she would be born defective? Would that be the only thing wrong with her, or would there be an underlying illness? And if that was the case, will we be able manage it? Or was there nothing to help her? I spent many restless nights worrying about my poor, unborn daughter, wondering if it could had been either Claretta's or my fault that she would be the way she would be. Hopefully, I told myself, there will be something Claretta and I could do, and I prayed that the passage I was on would end quickly. However, it actually lasted another nine months before we landed back in Madagascar.

When we finally reached back to Madagascar, I helped unload our goods quickly before rushing to the house, where Claretta was standing on the front porch steps, waiting for me. Her face lighting up, she rushed towards me and embraced me for quite some time. Letting me go, she took my hands into hers, and I saw that her stomach wasn't round and swollen.

"You already gave birth--?" I asked, feeling uneasy once more.

She nodded. "She came three months ago, while you were away. She was asleep the last time I checked on her. Do you want to see her?"

Fear flooded at the thought at what I might find when I would see her, but I nodded and answered, "Yes…I want to see my daughter."

Still holding onto my hand, Claretta led me inside our house and up the stairs, into a room that was painted all yellow. A white, handsome-looking crib sat underneath the window, where little, gurgling sounds came from. Claretta let go of my hand and walked to the crib and picked up a healthy-looking baby wrapped up in a pink blanket.

So, Tia was somewhat right, I breathed a little easier as Claretta emptied the baby girl into my arms. The first thing I checked was if she had all ten fingers and toes. When I reassured myself that she did, I ran my fingers across her round, bare stomach to check for bumps (to which the baby girl laughed at), and when I reassured there were none, I finally got a good look at her face. And I froze.

Behind a mound of dark-brown hair, was a large birthmark. It spread across the left side of her pale forehead, onto the side of her left eye. It was reddish-purple in color, and it looked as though it was embedded deep into her skin. She looked at me curiously with her mother's peridot-colored eyes, and with one of her thick arms, she reached up and pulled my hair. Smiling weakly, I brushed her hand away, and looked up at Claretta.

"Does she have a name?" I asked her softly.

She smiled back at me sweetly. "Abigail; 'a father's joy'. Doesn't it sound fitting?"

I looked down at the little girl named Abigail. Brushing her hair away to look at her birthmark more, I said flatly, "Just perfect."