The Darkest Time: Betrayal

On our way between the English port of Nassau and the French port of Eleuthera two days after my tattoo had been revealed, a flagless merchant ship sailing deep in the water passed by us. We were bored, and yearned for a fight. So we did not hesitate to loot and sink the ship, killing everyone on board. Little did we know, until it was too late, that this particular merchant ship was sailing with the East India Trading Company, and that not too far behind it, was sailing its Naval escort. Unfortunately for us, the escort was closing in on us. We ended up paying for our mistake dearly...

After a brutal fight, in which we were outnumbered and outgunned, and therefore lost, the crew of the naval ship ferried us on board their galleon. I mouthed off to one of the officers, saying that we were not pirates but just merchants. Our flag was hidden after all. I was not fast enough to duck a musket butt to the jaw from a nearby officer. After we were shepherded on board the naval vessel, our weapons were stripped from us, we were made to kneel, and our hands were tied behind our backs. The Black Pearl was tied to the galleon's rear so that it could be towed into harbour as proof of our identity: the most wanted pirate crew in the Caribbean.

We were chained together and led to the orlop deck, or the deck just below the main. We were abused, both physically and mentally. Every day, the same group of midshipmen would come down and punch us in the guts, chuckling at every blow. Some of us would be tied up and whipped; I was always chosen for this particular experiment. The officers always got a good laugh over who screamed the loudest when the salt water was splashed on our backs. Others had their hands tied behind their backs and their faces shoved into water bins, to see how long they could stay underwater without drowning first. They took joy in taking the brands and burning the single "P" that marked us as pirates, into our forearms right below our tattoos. They revelled in our shrieks of pains. One of the midshipmen took pleasure in ramming my jaw back into place, with more than one ill-placed punch. The officers grumbled as they fed us table scraps and stale water, saying that we did not deserve it.

My body portrayed the crew's feelings. Where the midshipman had punched my face to reset my jaw, there was a huge mottled bruise, somewhere between the colors of pure black and a deep purple-blue. My nose was broken from the same punches. My face grew gaunt, and the clothes on my back hung loosely from my once muscled build. The marks of the whip grew more and more numerous. We all knew that we were going to die. In our hearts, I knew that we would have all rather died right here in the hold surrounded by our family of scallywags, than doing the hempen jig alone in front of a crowd of jeering onlookers.

Believe or not, I met the most unexpected person amongst the crew of Navy men. I was looking up at the grate, absorbing the few precious rays of sunlight flowing into our cells, when I saw a familiar person walking by, talking to the lieutenant. He was my brother, Jacob! Believe it or not, he wore the insignia of a post captain of the British Royal Navy. In that instant, I felt a plan come to mind.

Standing on a barrel and pressing my face against the grate, I yelled up to the surface. "Sir! I would like to speak to the captain!" The lieutenant opened up the hatch, and he and Jacob came down, illuminating their way with a lit lantern. Jacob kept his handkerchief pressed to his nose; we had not had a chance to bath recently, being on our way to a trial that would lead to death.

"Good sir, I would like to talk to you, in private if that would be alright?" I asked him, trying my hardest to keep up my guise of a male pirate by keeping my face in the shadows. My mates looked at me as if I was going crazy. Jack tried to make me sit down; I just brushed his motions aside.

"Yes, you may. Come with me." Jacob motioned for the lieutenant, who released me from my fetters. Keeping a hold on my chains, he led me up the stairs, onto the deck, and inside of his private quarters.

"So, what do you wish to talk about, sir?" Jacob sat behind his desk, and started to write and review some of the documents on his deck.

"Jacob, do you not remember me? It's me, your sister, Jessica!"

That got his attention. Jacob looked at me; a look of utter shock slid onto his face. "How do you know about Jessica? It's not possible. Jessica was kidnapped in the middle of the night almost five years ago..."

"No, Jacob. I was not kidnapped; I ran away. I could not stand it, you and Joshua and John wasting our money, while I was going to be married up to Sir Goodall, to repair your damage! This is me! It was your gambling and wantonness and Father's choice of husband that turned me this card, and I took the chance!"

"Jessica? Can it really be you?" Jacob stood up from his desk, and started to examine my face. Jacob stood me in the eye. He looked so different, with his thoughtful sky blue eyes, a shepherd's build, and his matured face; youth was chiselled away from his now severe-shaped face. He was growing a little blonde beard in the dent in his chin, accompanied by a thin moustache. When the shock finally dissolved, he embraced me. He started to cry out, "Praise God, we have found you." The tears began to flow from both his and my eyes, and he began to stroke my downy hair. It felt so strange; initially I was shocked and did not know what to do. Wiping his eyes, he found the keys to the chain and freed my wrists. "Wait here," Jacob ordered. Turning, he abruptly left the cabin, his calfskin boots striking the wood of the deck.

I leaned against his desk, chafing my sore wrists, and cleaning the tears off my dirty face with the heels of my hands. I noticed that on his desk stood a portrait; I thought at first that it must have been his wife. But Jacob did not have a ring on his finger. My heart jolted when I realized the portrait was of me. He must have had it done after I ran away, to remind him of his younger sister. How different I was back then: all ladylike and prim, wearing a proper dress. It was now no wonder that Jacob did not recognize me straight off the start. I stared at it while I waited for him to come back.

I did not have to wait long. Jacob came back with two more men. One of the men was taller, and had a muscular build. His face was decorated with vibrant green eyes and brown hair tied off in a horsetail. He was decorated with the insignia of a first lieutenant. The second of the men had a similar face and build as Jacob. The insignia was that of a second lieutenant. Both of them had the same skin; they were my brothers. My heart wrenched a little when they did not recognize me at first. "You wanted to see us, Jacob?" asked the first lieutenant.

"John, Joshua, we have found Jessica!" Jacob pointed to me, while he hurriedly retold my story. Joshua, the shorter one, came up and embraced me; I had my face turned every which way by him, trying to find a piece of resemblance to what he must have thought was my old self. John stood with his arms crossed over his chest, trying to peer into my face; after a moment's hesitation, he gave me his own hug. When we met, he accidentally hit my still tender tattoo. I pulled away, grimacing at the pain.

Jacob came forward and gingerly rolled my sleeve up. There, before his eyes, and the eyes of John and Joshua, was my tattoo. The swelling and the redness had gone down since the day Watts unwrapped it, but it was still very sensitive. My brothers gawked at it for a moment; apparently, they never expected that I would go this deep into my disguise.

"What is this, Jessica?" Jacob sounded concerned. Joshua started shaking his head. John turned away at the sight of the knife engraved on my arm.

"It's my identity on board the ship. On the ship, I'm Matthew Cutting, an orphaned sixteen-year old boy who worked on board the New Hope for nine months, and the Black Pearl for three years and ten months. My mother and father were killed in an epidemic that swept the city." Coming out of my mouth, it sounded rational. After all, it had been my life for almost five years. But shame radiated from all three of my brothers; Jacob stopped looking me in the eye. John and Joshua leaned on his desk, appalled at what I had just said.

"What else happened to you, Jessica?" This time, Joshua asked the question. His voice had just finished healing after a sore throat, by the sounds of it.

I touched the sapphire drop where it still hung, dangling from my right ear;pressing my hand against my hair, I revealed to them the two scars from my first sea battle. Shoving out my hands, I let them rub the sea wounds and the calluses that formed from working on board, let them see the red chafed skin where the manacles had rubbed the edges of my wrist guards. I showed them the brand on my left arm, the one that Jacob's own officers did to me. Turning around, I took off my jacket, and unbuttoned my shirt. John came forward to help me, but I shook my head. Letting the clothes fall, my brothers saw the scars on my back from the cat-o'-nine tails, way back from my days on board the New Hope. Some of the lesions were newer from the treatment of Jacob's own officers. They also saw the breast bands around my chest, keeping my real identity safe. After they had a good look, I did my shirt up again, and turned around.

Jacob turned around, and sat dumbfounded down in his desk. When he spoke again, his voice was cracking, and tears begun to form around the bottom of his eyes. "Jessica, I am truly sorry. But, as a prisoner of the British Royal Navy, you have been accused of piracy. It is my solemn duty to have to bring you to court, and British justice."

"But Jacob..." This was not right. My own brothers were going to let me swing?

"Don't, Jessica! This is hard enough. Outside of this room, we are no longer brothers and sister. You are a convicted pirate, and the three of us are naval officers."

My voice grew cold and distant. "I am no longer Jessica, brothers. My name is Matthew Cutting." I turned around, gathered up my jacket, and knocked on the door. The lieutenant, standing outside, came in, put the manacles back on my wrists, and led me down below to be chained back with the rest of the crew. He never saw the tears forming in my eyes. The crew asked what happened up there, but I shrugged them off and turned away. I sank down into the corner and stared at the wood for the rest of voyage; I ate nothing, just sat there thinking of how my brothers had given me up for the noose.