Hello everyone! Here I am, back again with the latest instalment. Thank you for all your kind reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as previous ones!

Chapter Nine

Anna had no way of knowing how long she spent sitting cramped in that little dingy, her arms tied painfully behind her back and her bound ankles sore and sending waves of cramp up and down her legs, before she either fell asleep or passed out from the cold, exhaustion or discomfort, but the next thing she was aware of was being somewhere where there was lots of light boring into her closed eyelids, and being surrounded by a thrumming hive of excited, foreign voices.

"Mais d'où est-elle venue?"

"Capitaine… elle aurait pu venir directement de l'antre de Davy Jones pour ce que j'en sais ! "

"Joseph, rappelle á qui tu parles. "

"Oui, désolé, mon capitaine. "

Anna's eyes fluttered open slowly. The world was blurred before her. She blinked gently and eventually her surroundings came into focus.

"Mais elle se réveille…"

Two men were standing over her, peering down at her with curious fascination. One of them was young and bedraggled, dressed in the simple baggy clothes of any sailor. The other looked like one of the richest gentlemen Anna had ever seen. The first thing Anna noticed was his hat, a gigantic black velvet affair with a luxurious matching feather pluming out the brow. It sat atop an abundance of golden curls, which, from their immaculacy and evenness of colour, not to mention their sharp contrast to the pitch black eyebrows of the man, made them look suspiciously like a wig. Anna knew it was customary among very rich men to wear lighter coloured wigs, not that she had ever seen many of them in her tavern. He wore a frilled cravat and a dusty purple overcoat over a silken waistcoat. His cuffs bore matching frills, and around his waist he wore a black leather belt with an ornate brass buckle. He was armed, Anna realised with a judder, with both a pistol and a sword. Had she been rescued by a ship belonging to a rich French aristocrat?

Had he known what she was thinking, Capitaine Chevalle would have forgiven Anna for her misconception, in fact he would have even been flattered by it. Now, he smiled down at her with a mixture of both curiosity and pity.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Comment ca se fait qu'on vous a trouvé flottant dans un petit canot, pieds et poings liés et sans connaissance, tout seule au milieu de la nuit ? " When she did not immediately reply, he turned to the sailor beside him and asked, "Où sommes-nous maintenant, de toutes façons? Montserrat, Haïti?"

Anna struggled to sit up on her elbows and coughed lightly to clear her throat. "English… in English, please…"

The two men exchanged glances in mild alarm. An Englishwoman? In these waters? Capitaine Chevalle cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I am the Capitaine Chevalle of the pirate ship The Fancy, and this is Joseph Moreau, my first mate."

He expected some shock to pass over the maiden's face at the word 'pirate', and indeed she did look somewhat perturbed, but the fear that graced her features nowhere near rivalled the terror on the faces of most. Was she one of them? She certainly didn't look like a pirate… she looked more like a bride, with her fiery red hair coiled up in a makeshift chignon with just a few errant strands pulled free, no doubt by the wayward ocean breeze, and dressed as she was in her pale dress… no doubt there was an interesting story as to how she ended up being fished out of the sea. "And what is your name, madam?" He asked, polite as ever.

"I… I am Anna," she said waveringly, but with a certain strength in her voice.

Chevalle paused for a moment, waiting for a surname, but none was forthcoming, so he moved on. "And what's your story?"

Suddenly, the maiden seemed quite overcome. Her breath hitched in her throat and tears sprang to her eyes. She looked away from his gaze, all of a fluster. "Oh," she breathed softly. "I'm not sure y'd believe it even if I told you."

Once more, Chevalle and his first mate exchanged glances. This was going to be interesting. Chevalle decided to try a harder tack. "Well, madam," he said, putting heavy emphasis on the word. "It would be in your best interests to be telling us, for we are pirates and we are not given to dallying around with the secrets of women. We are hard men-"

The woman still looked away, but suddenly interrupted him with a marked force. "I know all about what pirates are like, thank y'. Why does tha think I'm here?"

Well, that just peaked Chevalle's interest more, even if her insolence riled him. Chevalle had never been one to hit a woman, even a brassy one, but he would be certain to put this one in this place.

However, he had to accept that there was something to what she was saying. It was a safe bet that a bound woman floating in a dinghy was, in some way or another, a pirate's doing. Chevalle found it cruel and unusual himself, and altogether suspicious.

"This isn't a trap from a rival ship, is it?" The day was foggy, and a ship could get very near to The Fancy before Chevalle's crew realised.

The woman was still not looking at him, and shrugged with all the attitude of a petulant child. "If it is, I'm none the wiser I can tell thee," she said carelessly.

Chevalle was beginning to lose his temper. "I've half a mind to throw you back overboard, without a boat this time!" He exclaimed.

"Go reyt on ahead, love, I don't care anymore!" She retorted, her voice full of anger, but also intense exhaustion.

A moment of silence fell on deck. All of the crew were looking at them, or pretending not to.

Chevalle gritted his teeth and spoke, his hands trembling in anger, his voice dangerously low. "Tell me why, madame, I should not make you a meal for the sharks."

There was a pause as Anna composed herself. When she spoke, her voice was level and cool, even cold. "I can cook, I can clean, I can sew and… I can sing." The last thing she listed seemed to come forth only reluctantly, but it was the skill that most interested Chevalle.

"Can you now." He said, his voice once again mild. "Well, perhaps we'll make the sharks wait for their meal at least for a little while, while we see if you can be of any use. Please, come with me."

Anna finally met his gaze, and he was somewhat surprised to see her blue eyes mostly full of exhaustion, but also hatred. She tried to get to her feet, but her legs were obviously devoid of circulation from her lengthy voyage tied up in the dinghy, and they collapsed under her, sending her once again to the deck.

Chevalle looked at Joseph, and with an almost indeterminable nod of his head in Anna's direction, signalled for him to pick the girl up off the deck, for of course he was far too dignified to do it himself in front of all the crew. Joseph did so, earning him a fearsome glare from the woman, despite the fact that everyone present knew she was extremely too fatigued to do it herself. Once she was on her feet, Chevalle took her somewhat forcibly by the arm and led her to his cabin. She was meek and limp against him, her feet partially dragging behind them, not from lack of compliance but from exhaustion. Chevalle did feel for her, much as he berated her obstinacy.

Once they were in his cabin, he seated her in a plush velvet-covered armchair, which Anna veritably collapsed into. She had to admit to herself that it was very comfortable, perhaps the most comfortable chair she had ever sat in. Indeed, the whole room was lavishly decorated – it was rather more like an aristocrat's parlour than the bedroom of a pirate!

The captain drew up a similar chair and sat opposite her, setting his hands down on his knees with a slap. "Well, madam," he said. "Are you ever going to tell me your story?"

Anna regarded him evenly. "When I think you'll believe me, yes." A short silence fell. "I told you all tha needs to know out on deck – I can cook, clean and sew."

"And sing," added Chevalle.

Now it was Anna's turn to grit her teeth. "Yes," she said quietly, looking rather as if she'd wished she hadn't mentioned it.

"Don't look so regretful, madam, for it was that that made me think twice about killing you," he said cheerfully, as if he was discussing what he'd had for lunch. "Now, prove it."

Anna's eyes almost fell out of her head. "Excuse me?"

"Sing," he said, with an elaborate flourish of his hand. "I want to hear your talents."

"I wouldn't say it's a talent, just… a thing I do." Anna looked around desperately for something to distract him from the current subject. Her gaze settled on a small mahogany piano which sat in the corner of the room. She nodded towards it. "Do you play?"

He looked at it out of the corner of his eye. "A little. I'm not very good at it though."

Anna smiled a little, her fear lifting slightly for the first time since she had woken up on deck. "Then we're even."

Chevalle noticed at once that she was shivering. Of course the cold had got to her. "Oh, ma chérie, you are freezing," he immediately jumped to his feet and rushed over to his bed, pulling a crimson velvet blanket, exactly the same colour as the chairs, off his bed and approaching her with it held out to her. How quickly they were warming to each other after their rocky start surprised them both. "I apologise for this, madam, but it is the best I can do at the moment," he said, helping her rise from her chair and wrapping the throw around her. She settled back into her chair, wondering what on earth he was apologising for.

"Perhaps, we have reached an accord then," he said slowly as the woman warmed herself. "I play, and you sing."

Anna graced him with a small smile. "I hope you can improvise."

Joseph Moreau and his closer friends among the crewmembers were hanging about on deck, speculating about the new arrival aboard The Fancy, when they heard soft strains of music coming from the captain's cabin. Silencing their conversation, they quietly moved closer to listen.

It was piano, obviously the captain playing, accompanied by a soft, low feminine voice, clearly the girl. A hush fell among the company as they strained to hear.

"I'd like to get you on a slow boat to China…"

The captain's playing was masterful, despite his pleas to the contrary, and despite Anna's desolate situation she allowed herself a moment to reflect on what a pleasure it was to sing with such a wonderful accompanist. It was a luxury she had rarely enjoyed.

She told the captain this much when the song had finished. He merely smiled and said, "I don't think we'll be throwing you to the sharks anytime soon, Miss."

"Mrs." The correction sprang from Anna's lips before she even had chance to stop it.

Chevalle raised an eyebrow. The plot thickened. "Mrs…?"

Anna shook her head fervently. "No surname yet. But please call me Anna… Captain."

He nodded. "So be it. Now, let us go and find you somewhere to sleep. I'm sure we can find you your own room of some sort. It would not be… proper to have you sleeping with the men, so to speak." Anna did not say so, but it was something she was now accustomed to after her time aboard the Black Pearl. "And you are a lost soul, washed upon us by the wayward tide, and innocent… well, so far as we know," he said ruefully. Anna, again, chose not to interject. "So the brig would not do. And then we can speak to the cook about you sharing kitchen duties, and I'm sure we can find you some cleaning to do until we next make port… where do you call home, Anna?"

The question was a difficult one, and it showed on her face. "Well, Tortuga I suppose." Chevalle's eyebrow raised again. No doubt he was judging her. "I am not a prostitute," she refuted his suspicions before he could even voice them. "I am, or was, a barmaid, but my home had been the high seas until… circumstances arose that led to me bein' in that dinghy there." Anna miserably thought of returning to Tortuga to try and beg her job back again, and of the gossip and speculation of her former colleagues. What went wrong with your tall, dark and handsome pirate captain, then? She could hear Agatha now. The thought of it pained her.

The high seas. That was pirate talk, thought Chevalle. Before he could mull the new information over further, she spoke again.

"Please, forgive me for not tellin' y' me story yet," she said earnestly, the plea reflected in her eyes. "It's just you'll think I'm mad. Really, truly mad. And nice singing voice or no, you'd toss me to the sharks wi'out a second thought, mark me words."

"It's that improbable?"

Anna nodded, and suddenly tears were in her eyes again. "I never thought me life would end up like this. Serves me right, getting tangled up with pirates."

Chevalle, to his own surprise, found his heart going out to the woman. Whatever it was, she had been through a lot. He reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her blanketed arm. "I regret, we won't be making port in Tortuga for many months now. We are heading out to Asia to trade and prey on the fat merchant ships that frequent the rich ports. It is for you to decide; you may stay on board here until we finally do visit Tortuga, or you may leave the ship at any earlier port."

The thought of alighting the ship in another country where she spoke no word of the tongue terrified her, but she was not going to say so. Instead she smiled. "Thank you. I will let y' know if I wish to leave."

Chevalle began to lead her from the cabin. "And don't worry about me thinking you're mad, chérie. I'm a pirate, and we're all mad."

Anna sighed to herself. Didn't she know it.

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