Chapter 6
It had been two months since Caylie had first arrived on the Flying Dutchman, but it had felt like two years. Jones never eased up on the work or the pain. He made sure she suffered every day and tried to go out of his way to find reasons to give her a good lash or two. At least, that was how Caylie saw it. She couldn't believe she hadn't even finished a year of her service yet. I am sure to die before I finish it, she thought angrily. It was raining hard on the Dutchman's deck, the sky black and mist covering the open sea. The heavy rain was clogging Caylie's vision and making her work extremely difficult. Luckily though, Jones was not there to see her or her misery. He was in his cabin again. Probably feeling sorry for himself and being useless, as Caylie put it grudgingly. She picked up a pile of wood, trying to get below deck before Jones flamed at her for not getting the wood out in time. While she was struggling with this task, the deck too wet to walk on and the wood becoming soggier by the minute, Jimmylegs saw this as an opportunity. He stuck out his foot and Caylie tripped, landing face first on the wet floor. The crewmembers began to gather around as they all laughed loudly. Caylie got up and stared at Jimmylegs and the others. They looked uglier than anything at that moment, their filthy barnacle incrusted mouths open as their eyes filled with evil mirth at her misery.
"Look," she said, her famous temper rising by the second, "just because you're all a sore lot with nothing better to do than wait on HIS claw and foot doesn't mean I am. I actually WANT to get out of here alive and SEE another day off this hell!"
Jimmylegs snickered. "Ye don't need ter worry about us killin' ye missy. When yer on the Dutchman, ye STAY on the Dutchman-ye can't die!" His eyes shone bright in malice as he said this.
The light left Caylie's eyes as Jimmylegs' words echoed in her head. Ye can't die. She was immortal, again? How? They had made a deal! JONES! She growled, clenching her fists, her nails digging into her palms and marched over to Jones' cabin. She practically yanked the door open and went in, her eyes full of rage.
Jones had heard the door slam open, which startled him slightly seeing as no one ever came into his cabin without being ordered to. But he had an inkling as to who it was…
"YOU'RE A LYING SORRY EXCUSE FOR A MAN, you know that right?" a female voice exclaimed, as Caylie came storming up to him, her eyes furious. The cabin was dark and cold, but Caylie barely noticed, too angry to think of anything but her hate for Jones.
Jones stared at her. "Yer lookin' at another floggin' girl," he sneered.
"Well it won't matter how many bloody floggings you give me, because I CAN'T DIE! You seemed to FAIL to mention that in our agreement!" Caylie exclaimed.
"Ye failed ter ask," Jones said, his temper rising.
"Well it's not the first things one thinks about, now is it? 'Will I be immortal when I join the bloody Flying Dutchman's crew?'" Caylie mocked.
A small smile was beginning to pull at Jones' mouth. He had to admit Caylie had guts to come and talk to him like this and she was being rather comical in her over-dramatic way… He frowned, pushing these thoughts away and crushing the smile.
"Look, I told ye what the bargain was," he said, acting annoyed, "not the conditions."
Caylie wanted to STRANGLE him. If he hadn't been two times bigger and ten times stronger she probably would have. Her whole point in being on the Dutchman was to pay for getting her mortality, not gain MORE immortality.
"Ye'll be mortal when yer time ends," Jones continued, seeing the anger in her eyes.
Caylie huffed, leaving the cabin. "If I don't go insane before then."
And she ran out of the cabin and slammed the door behind her. Jones stared at the door, his tentacles twirling in all directions. Where'd she git that temper?
Caylie sat huddled in her hammock, sobbing softly. She couldn't believe she was immortal again. Aye, she was growing, she had a little cut in the wall to tell her so, but she couldn't die. She was still abnormal. Tears slid down her cheeks as she gazed down at the brand on her hand. Why me? Why did I have to be related to the world's most evil man? Caylie was tired. Getting mad at Jones always took away a lot of her energy. She couldn't get out of the hammock so she just stayed there, crying herself to sleep. Once she fell asleep she began to dream…
Caylie was watching a man. He had beautiful blue eyes and he was carrying a baby. He was staring at the infant with sadness. The image became clearer and Caylie could see a bed. A woman lay in the bed, a tired but peacefully happy smile plastered to her lips. She looked asleep. The man walked to her and kissed her on the brow.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice an echo to Caylie. The baby suddenly began to cry and the man looked at it in panic. Then he turned to a small piano in the corner of the room and began to play. It was beautiful. The baby stopped crying instantly and stared up and the man with wide eyes. Caylie had never heard such a beautiful song before. It was soft and melodious, and when she stopped thinking and just listened, she could see heaven within the song. Who could play that way? Suddenly Caylie woke again, a smile playing on her lips, though her mind was reeling as to knowing who had been playing such a beautiful tune in her dreams.
Caylie stared at the wall facing her as she lay in her hammock, the previous night's dream still vivid in her mind. She could hear Clanker's snoring and Maccus' odd breath pattern and it all annoyed her. She tried to concentrate on the beautiful music she had heard in the dream. It had been so unique, so tranquil…(if any of ye know Enya, think of her song Fairytale). Somehow, the music inspired her to be happier and not let Jones or the crew pull her down. She felt as though she could do anything. Suddenly an idea struck Caylie. She began to look around the hammock frantically and in a matter of minutes she had a large amount of small shells. She polished them with her blouse and surprisingly they began to glisten. She touched her hair slowly and then plucked out a few thick strands. She braided them together and strung the shells on the braid. It was beautiful. She tied one end to the roof of the hold and let it string down, sparkling when it caught the light of the bright sun. She continued to collect shells and pluck her hair until she had four long strings of beads hanging above her hammock. She smiled in satisfaction and then began to dig through her cloak. Inside was a folded piece of pink(hehe) fabric. She unwound it, almost having forgotten it had been there, and placed it on her hammock. It was an odd thing to see, in a corner of the dark and lank hold was glittering shells and a pink blanket. Caylie grinned ear to ear. If I'm to be here fifty years, I might as well get comfortable now. Jones'll know he can NEVER get to me. EVER. Caylie turned in alert as the other crewmembers began to stir. This was going to be an interesting morning.
Clanker was the first to get up. He was almost blinded by the intense light of Caylie's sparkling shells. He groggily got out of his hammock and dragged himself to Caylie's hammock-and the blasted light.
"What are ye doin'?!" he asked her, concealing his eyes.
"Well," Caylie began. "If I'm going to be here for fifty years I want to maintain SOME type of individuality."
"Well does yer bloody individu-whatever that is-need ter be so bloody shiny?" Clanker grumbled.
Caylie bit her lip and nodded. "Yes, yes it does."
"I warned ye…" Clanker grumbled, climbing up onto the deck. "Cap'n's not goin' ter be happy." In truth, the whole scene partially pleased him. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen something as lively as the color pink. One by one, each crewmember came to see the damage. At one point there was a whole crowd. Jimmylegs didn't get the point, thick as he was, Maccus just wondered how much money he could make off of that blanket and Bootstrap was partially amused, partially worried.
"Ye know Jones is going ter find out, right?" Bootstrap asked her.
"Oh, I'm counting on it," Caylie said, rubbing her hands eagerly.
Bootstrap rolled his eyes and shook his head. He didn't understand the girl sometimes. It was as though she completely neglected the fact that she was dealing with Davy Jones.
Speaking of the devil himself, Jones came onto the deck and noticed half his crew was missing. Where are those scallywags? He went over to Clanker grumpily.
"Where be the rest?" he asked him.
Clanker pointed to the hold. "They be in there cap'n. Miss Caylie's got somethin' goin' down there."
Her again?! Jones' tentacles curled in annoyance. Was there one day he didn't have to deal with Caylie? He limped down the hold and silence fell over the room as he did. The clanking of his whalebone leg was the only audible sound. He looked at caught sight of the shimmering strings of shells. He moved faster until he was facing Caylie and her now vividly decorated hammock.
"What is this?" he asked her angrily.
"My hammock?" she answered, her heart beating.
"Aye, we see that. I mean what's all this?" he pointed to the beads and grabbed the pink blanket.
"Well that, cap'n, I got from a nice fellow down in Singapore when I was there," Caylie answered, snatching it from him. "And I don't want it dirtied."
Jones' head was full of confusion as the crew began to chuckle under their breaths. In a way he was amused by her too and in another he was angry that she was defacing him in front of his crew. He slapped her head hard and huffed.
"Does she have ter take it down cap'n?" Clanker asked eagerly, having come down to see what was happening.
Jones shook his head making an odd tutting sound with his mouth. "Well let's ask 'er. Would ye rather endure 12 lashes from each crewmember or take down yer little show of the many uses of seashells?" he asked her mockingly.
The crew began to whisper between themselves. 12 lashes from each of them was rough. She would certainly take down the decorations instead.
Caylie thought for a moment then shrugged. "You might want to get the whip then."
Jones looked at her, his eyes wide. Everyone else seemed shocked too but nonetheless Jones ordered the bosun to bring her on the deck and let each crewmember whip her. But as Caylie was being hauled up the stairs she swore she saw a glint of amusement and admiration twinkle in Jones' eye as he stared at her hammock. For that one twinkle in his eye, Caylie would have handled a hundred lashes from each crewmember. The lion of triumph in Caylie roared in delight and not even the pain of the whip could break her pride and triumphant smile.
