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Chapter Three: A Drop In The Bucket
Emily had tossed and turned all night; she counted herself lucky not to have sea sickness but still wasn't used to the constant motion. The sun flooded through the tiny window and she was shocked to see how well the one slit of light lit the room, leaving only the corners in hazy shadow, and that the blonde captain was nowhere to be seen. She blinked and stretched, grateful for the fact that she had not spent the night with her arms and legs tied. Now that she could truly see the room, she noticed that there were two more metal panels on either side of the window and she hopped out of bed to find out if they revealed more windows; standing up, she realized just how sweltering the room had become through the day. With a little effort she slid the panel above the bed to the side and was met by a refreshing salty breeze; this window's glass was broken out and she stood in the breeze breathing in and enjoying the cool air. The redhead sprinted to the door but paused before reaching for the doorknob; she remembered the warning her captor had given her last night and wondered if she really would be in danger from the men on board. Away from the window the air seemed thick and heavy and in her hunger and discomfort she thought she would risk it; she gently tested the door only to find it locked from the outside.
"So much for that." She sighed to herself.
She decided to give the other window a try, hoping it would help to cool down the room, and stumbled a little as the ship rose sharply on a wave. Emily was happy to find that the third window was broken out as well. The room began to cool more quickly and she stared out the window trying to guess what time of day it was; she guessed it must be around midday. She circled he room slowly and came to a stop at the desk; it was a roll top and she pushed it open and began shuffling through papers when a glint of glass caught her eye. A small bottle of alcohol lay on its side in one of the cubbies and she pulled it out quickly and un-stoppered it taking a tentative whiff of the contents.
For some reason she remembered when, at age twelve, she and Katie had been caught in their father's study with his best bottle of brandy. They had gotten more in their hair and clothes than in their mouths, but it was enough to have them giggling and wobbling around the room; the housekeeper's fourteen year old daughter had been the one to find them. The girl had been very kind to them, trying to clean them up before anyone caught them so they wouldn't be in trouble. Then everything had gone terribly wrong. In her intoxicated state, Emily had found herself trying to give the older girl what she thought would be a very passionate kiss and Katie had begun throwing books from their father's shelves at the servant and screaming. Their mother had rushed in and the whole situation had ended with them hiring a new, childless, housekeeper.
Emily shook her head to pull herself out of the memory, turned, and headed quickly for the window to empty the bottle's contents out. She rushed back to the desk and fumbled to find a scrap of paper; she paused and wondered what she would even write—she didn't know where they were or even where they were headed. She scanned the papers that littered the desk for some clue, but all she could find were lists of cargo that had been taken from her father's ship, maps, and sheets of parchment with random lines and symbols on them that didn't make any sense to her. To the very back of the desk she found a scrap of parchment that seemed small enough to fit into the bottle. On one side was a very small sketch of an island with the name Emeline Isle across it but there was no indicators of where this island was; not even a compass rose to indicate directions. Emily flipped it over and hurriedly scribbled a quick note: I am Emily Monique Fitch. I was taken on the pirate ship Lament and am being held by Captain Campbell. I am alive.
She rolled up the note and shoved it into the bottle; it felt pointless because she had so little information to give—but she had to do something. She secured the cork as tightly as she could and hurried back to the window; she closed her warm brown eyes and hoped for the best as she slipped the bottle out the window and into the vast ocean. Back at the desk she did her best to straighten the papers so that it didn't look disturbed. She had just pulled the lid back into place when she heard the bolt sliding back on the door.
The door flew open and there was a loud rustling of feathers as a parrot went flapping past the man in the doorway; it zipped past Emily's face and settled itself on the headboard of the bed.
"Naomikins, naomikins," it squawked as it ruffled its bright green feathers.
The startled redhead turned her attention back to the man in the doorway; his dirty blonde hair reached his shoulders in tangled disarray and his face was tan and weathered, a braided strand of beard hung from his chin. He was holding a tray of food and kicked the door shut behind him, slamming it in the faces of several curious men in the process.
"Captain's not here, JJ," he called to the bird and the parrot squawked angrily in the corner.
"Take this," he said gruffly, holding the tray out to her. "I'm not a bloody butler," he added with a playful smile.
Emily took a nervous step forward and took the tray with trembling hands; she backed towards the bed, unwilling to turn her back on the wild looking man, and carefully sat down on the edge. Unlike last night, the bread was relatively soft and fresh tasting and the soup was thicker and better smelling.
"Pay the ransom! Pay the ransom!" the parrot protested angrily, causing her to almost drop the tray. "Pay the ransom!"
"Shut it JJ!" the pirate chuckled as he stepped forward, fishing in his pockets, and eventually pulling out a small biscuit.
The bird twittered excitedly as the man leaned forward and Emily shuffled to the side to avoid him. He gave her a cocky smile that said please,if I was going to I would have already. He stepped back with a shrug and made his way back over to the door and leaned against it. A few moments later, there was a knock at the door and he pulled it open and stood to attention. The captain entered the room holding a tray.
"Naomikins, naomikins," the parrot chirped. "Pay the ransom! Pay the ransom!"
The captain looked at her first mate with a look of both shock and amusement.
"What have you taught him now?" she said sternly. "And how do you train him to say these things without me knowing?"
She tore a piece for bread loose and tossed it at the green bird who twisted his head around wildly to catch it.
"What can I say? Ol' JJ is smarter than half the crew." Cook laughed.
"Well if he is really smart, he won't call me Naomikins in front of the crew," she said, giving him a stern look.
She'd had to work very hard to get her crew to take her seriously; it was only through brilliant strategy and fair treatment that she had won them over to taking orders from a woman, but since her plans paid off better than any of their previous captains, and on top of that they actually got a decent share of the spoils, the crew had come to depend on her. It helped that she was never the kind to back down; she was able to crack a few skulls if she truly needed to and most disputes she could win hands down with flawless logic and determination. Her choice to make Cook her first mate also had a hand in her success as a captain. He was the perfect counterbalance to her methodical and serious approach to leadership; he held his own against any man who dared test him, but he was quick to keep the men entertained, knowing they had to blow off steam from time to time. Thusly, the Lament ran like a well oiled machine.
"Speaking of which," she continued, "the boys are down in the kitchen insisting that the cook relinquish all the boxes of wine."
"Well let them have it." Cook shrugged.
"I intend to, once we dock, but until then I need them to keep sharp," the captain pointed out.
Her first mate laughed. "That'll never happen; it's at least three days away."
The parrot JJ had hopped down onto the bed and was eyeing Emily, who absentmindedly picked at her meal as she watched the two pirates converse. He was edging closer and appeared to be trying to make himself adorable, obviously making a bid for her chunk of bread. The girl didn't notice him until he let out a lewd whistle.
"She's a looker, she's a looker," the bird chattered, followed by another whistle.
"See what I mean?" Cook insisted. "You'll have to make a choice here; the wine or the girl…the boys have to have a bit of something."
He gave Emily a wink and her eyes grew wide; the captain gave him a rough punch in the arm.
"Have him give them a case then," she conceded. "But they'd better be in top shape in the morning."
"Knew you'd keep her to yourself," he said slyly, giving her a deliberate smile.
The captain drew back her arm to deliver another punch and he flinched; she gave him a confidant smirk.
"That's what I thought Cookie," she said.
He opened the door to leave and the parrot took to the air after him. The frustrated blonde sat down on the bed next to her and began to eat. Emily was still trembling a little and the captain tried to give her a comforting smile.
"He's a wanker, but you get used to him," she insisted. "Don't worry; that's not the way I run my ship."
"So you draw the line at rape…" the girl said, trying to sound unshaken. "Who knew pirates had such high morals."
"Actually I draw the line at rape, slave driving, and murder whenever possible," she corrected. "And some days I just say to hell with it all and knit little jumpers for orphaned children."
"A marauder with a heart of gold—aren't I the lucky one?" the girl chided.
"Suit yourself," the blonde replied. "You'll be well treated and returned home within a month, give or take, and you will be back safely with daddy dear sleeping on silk."
Truth be told, the brown eyed girl had hurt her feelings, which was odd. Captain Campbell had developed a thick skin over the years and there was no reason that this job should be any different than any other. She'd been raised in a tavern filled with gruff men and waited for the day she could make something more for herself; there weren't many options out there in the world for the illegitimate daughter of a bar wench and she felt she did quite well for herself. So why, of all people, could this girl cut her to the quick all the sudden?
Emily watched the girl finish her meal in silence; she couldn't explain why, but something about this girl made her feel bad about what she had said. Here she was, kidnapped, being held hostage for ransom, miles from home, and somehow she saw a hint of hurt in the pirate's eyes and felt guilty.
"I must be going crazy," Emily thought.
"So…Naomikins?" she found herself saying.
"Speaking to the black-hearted, soulless pirate queen?" Naomi sighed sarcastically.
"Yeah…why not?" Emily quipped. "So again…Naomikins?"
"I'm definitely going insane," she thought to herself; what could she possibly hope to gain by making small talk with someone who was going to rob her family?
The captain couldn't help but smile; it didn't make any sense, but part of her did want to talk. She didn't talk much anymore; since she'd lost her only female friend, the only person she could really enjoy talking to was Cook. Which simply wasn't the same as talking to a girl; it was more like having to try to be a man. So why not enjoy talking to this girl while she was here?
"That's me." She laughed. "The dread pirate Naomikins. Like I said, Cook is…off…which is fine as long as he doesn't do it in front of the crew."
"But…I still don't understand…what does Naomikins mean?" Emily asked.
"It's just something he decided to call me." Naomi rolled her eyes, thanks to Cook she might as well be out with it. "My name is Naomi."
"Oh…" the red-haired girl said. "It's…unique."
Captain Campbell laughed; that was probably the nicest way anyone had ever insulted her name. A thought suddenly occurred to her.
"Which one are you?" the blonde asked.
"Pardon?" the girl stuttered.
"Of the Fitch daughters—which are you? It occurred to me that I never even asked your name," Naomi clarified.
"Oh…Emily…" she answered.
"Pretty," the blonde said. "I mean, your name is pretty…it's a pretty name," she stammered a little.
She felt dim-witted; perhaps talking wasn't such a good idea after all. Why even pretend to get close? The captain's face hardened; this was a job and she needed to treat it like a job. The air felt suddenly chilled and she stood up to close the windows; Naomi stared out the only unbroken window at the sun setting against the waves. The ocean was turning pink and orange; this was a good sign, it meant clear weather the next day. For a moment she wanted to motion to Emily to come and see the sunset, but instead she turned and headed for her hammock.
"Goodnight…" Emily said, feeling a little stupid as she did so.
"Yeah," Naomi said numbly.
"The…Bloody Whore?" Katie said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"It's my ship, I won it almost completely fairly, and I can call it whatever I want," Captain Effy said defensively. "Besides, I think it's a much better pirate ship name than The Lament. How mellow dramatic is that?"
Katie gave her a have it your way look and shrugged. "So where are my quarters?"
Considering the shape the ship was in, she didn't have very high hopes for accommodations. The redhead couldn't help but hope that it would at the very least be dry, private, and smell slightly worse than tavern had. The captain gave her an amused look and made a grand motion down the stairs. She led the redhead to a door just off from the stairs and pushed it open, making another grand sweeping gesture. The first thing Katie notice was the large latticed window along the back wall with an ornate bed in front of it. There was a long bar fastened securely on the left wall with clothing hung on it; two long chests were bolted to the floor beneath the clothing bar. A very battered chaise lounge chair was secured in place close to the door along the same wall. Effy brushed past her into the room and Katie closed the door behind her. There was a lamp on the wall, next to the door, emitting a soft orange glow. She followed the captain into the center of the room; from there she could see that there were two doors that led into this room with a bookshelf between them. The right wall held only a long table scattered with maps and other papers and a chair, which was the only thing not bolted down. All the walls of the room were scattered with paintings, some of them faded and torn in places; the floor was littered with clothes, books, and haphazard papers and trinkets. Katie had to admit this was much better than she had expected.
"It's been far too long since I've had a roommate," the dark haired girl said. "Or at least one that I let sleep in the bed."
The brown eyed girl's face fell; so there was to be no privacy and she would be in constant contact with the wild woman she had hired. The boat creaked and lurched forward, sending Katie toppling forward into the captain's arms; the strong girl whisked her up and placed her swiftly on the bed.
"Going to have to work on your sea-legs." She chuckled with another mysterious look on her face. "I'll let you get settled."
With that she strode out of the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Katie staring mouth agape at the door. After a few moments she collected her thoughts and stashed her bag under the bed and ventured back out onto deck and up the stairs to where the captain stood at the wheel. She looked back at the city lights that were beginning to fade into the darkness as they headed out into the channel. The cold night air whipped her hair in all directions and she shivered as the wind cut through the thin fabric of her dress. She turned and stood next to the wheel and looked out over the deck. The boat made a sharp turn and she tried to speak over the roar of the wind and waves.
"No, the other way!" she said.
The captain merely smiled at her and stayed on course.
"Did you hear me?" she shouted louder.
"Yep," the wild girl replied.
"Then why aren't we turning? They were last seen headed that way!" she insisted, pointing off in the opposite direction.
"That means nothing." Came the retort.
"How can that mean nothing? That's the direction they went," Katherine spat angrily.
"Well then it's a good thing there's only one possible destination they could be headed to…" the captain laughed. "My ship, my wheel, my direction."
"Then what in the bloody blue blazes am I paying you for?" Her fear was vanishing; she was not used to being contradicted, especially when it came to people in her employ.
Captain Effy eyed her with a superior expression. "You know, you're awful bossy for a pretend commoner wearing her dress backwards."
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