Once upon a time, there lived a girl who had everything she ever wanted. As if this wasn't bad enough, the girl did whatever she liked.
Her Father had wealth beyond all expectations of his birth, and she had no mother to guide or scold her. The household servants and her siblings were powerless to speak out whenever she was irresponsible, wild or improper. For didn't she look just like her dearly departed mother? The girl was not stupid, and she was swift to learn exactly how to appear convincingly sorry and swear that she would make amends. At least, she learned how to do so well enough to fool her doting Father, if no-one else.
Even discounting her Father's devotion, since she was the youngest child of the four and the family was so very wealthy, what did it matter if she was late to her lessons or did not attend them at all? Was it really so bad that she laughed too long and too loud and danced wild dances, or met in private with her fiance? She was adored by all who knew her, even if it was mostly under duress, and her Father would hear no talk of discipline or punishment for anything she did. Besides, it is patently true that what might be seen as inexcusable for a woman of middling wealth can be easily overlooked in the daughter of a man with more money than most landed gentry.
Even when the family trade did not flourish as once it had, and the Father's long-suffered grief for the death of his wife and his dear little son led him to excess, there were still rubies and silks and tobacco in their warehouses. And so the girl who had everything remained exactly that.
And then, of course, the Father died.
The girl was stricken with despair and her life came apart. Her remaining sister and brother, who had been forced into silence throughout all her years of misbehaviour, were suddenly free to intervene and try to save her from herself. But the damage had already been done. Try as they might to force her to her lessons, and to books and contemplation, the flower had been overgrown by weeds. The girl only resented their restrictions, their sighs and cold stares. She who had been lavished with praise and love for all her life couldn't seem to do anything right anymore, and she could not understand why.
Desperate for joy and freedom, the girl fell into bad company, the kind who preys on unstable, sad people. Whether they deliberately sought her out to lead her astray and into debt, or whether it was mere happy chance on their part, is hard to say. Either way, it was not long at all until she was led to the same deprivations and excesses that had played so large a role in the death of her Father.
She was, at this time, only nineteen years old.
The situation grew worse by the day. For a long time, she did not even understand how she had been played. By the time she did, it was too late to turn away. Eventually one of her siblings, the family's last son and heir to the remnants of their fortune, left her to reap the consequences of her mistakes.
Somehow, she managed to fall into worse company still. Murderers. Seditionists. Pirates.
As soon as she was able, her sister left her too, motivated by bitterness and greed and the machinations of a cunning man.
The girl who had once had everything was now orphaned and alone.
Dear reader, answer me this.
If a person such as this, so dependent on love and yet so cut off from it, could be offered acceptance and adoration from even such a poor source as a group of pirates, would she take it? Would she ignore all the sage, sanctimonious advice of her lost siblings and throw in her lot with these wicked, evil men? Or would she seek redemption, even if it were the harder road?
If you were in her place, would you?
Anna-Maria, George and Pete set off through the streets of Plymouth at a dead run. There were few people awake at this hour except drunkards and sailors moving to the docks, but she threw up her hood nonetheless as a precaution. Her shame at her disgraceful behaviour the night before was pushed to the side for now. She had more pressing things to worry about, like what would become of her if Captain Hook had sailed away, leaving her penniless on the streets of Plymouth with nothing to sell but her already compromised virtue.
By the time they had reached the docks, poor George and Pete could barely keep up with her. She recognised the Jolly Roger from a distance and headed straight for it. The sun was rising and the stars were fading from the sky. But the ship was still there. Would her pirates be happy to see her; Mr Bell, Smee, Half Dead Jack and all the rest? And she did think of them as hers, motley bunch of murderous man-children that they were. Only she could have found herself comfortable with such a wild group of men. Charlotte would have laughed, if she had known. Or perhaps not. She likely would have disapproved.
Despite going back to a place that had once been her prison, she could not say she was unhappy. If anything, she was glad that her refuge had not left without her. By the exclamations of Pete, she could tell he was surprised the ship had not sailed out to sea already. The sky over the sea was blazing with the rising sun and silhouetted against it she could see the Jolly Roger, sleek and dangerous, even with her cannons hidden away. The pirate ship that had somehow become her refuge.
Warring with her confused gladness at the sight of the ship was the pressing nearness of the sharks again. They received her into the fold of their hateful minds with gibbering glee and she almost staggered under the turmoil of their thoughts.
For the first time, she heard one address her directly, perhaps a leader, if sharks had such things. "Man thing returns from above. Swim with us. Hunt." She stumbled and nearly fell over in shock as the disjointed words were shunted into her mind. God, the creatures could commune with her any time they liked. Did that mean they could make her lose control of herself now, if they wanted to? The shark must have felt her fear, for she could feel resentment mixing with amusement as it fell silent. She had not said anything to it in reply. At least, she thought she had not.
She hesitated for the smallest moment as she reached the edge of the docks before pressing onwards. She had come too far to run away now. She heard the sound of cheering as she walked up the gangway and smiled. Had anyone ever made that sound for her before this moment? Even if they were a bunch of thieving murderers, she knew then that she loved them. Pirates called out warm welcomes to her as they raced about. A few of them were singing as they climbed up the mast of the ship, hauled on ropes and generally made themselves useful. Her belly curdled with unease at the sound of the Captain's voice bellowing something about getting them windward. The gangway was withdrawn the moment George and Pete stepped foot on the deck, and both of them bolted down the stairs to put her things away without so much as a 'by your leave'. She knew they were not being rude. They were probably eager to help the rest of the crew.
Smee sent a smile her way and quickly said, "Good to see you, Miss Maria. We thought you wouldn't come back." Before she could reply, he was scampering off to yell at other pirates.
Was it just her imagination, or were there a lot of pirates on deck she had never seen before? Several of them scowled, leered or outright cursed at the sight of her. She heard whispers of 'bad luck' and felt her good mood waver. It seemed that the Captain had taken on new men after all. She had not considered how that might affect her.
Still in his disguise as a law-abiding sea captain, Captain Hook stood on the deck, impatiently watching a group of men disappearing beneath the sheets that hid Long Tom. He smirked at the sight of her.
"Ah, Miss Westwood, how good of you to join us at last." His expression became a little pained. "I take it that there is not even a single bottle of whiskey in all those parcels?"
She had no idea how to answer that, so she ignored the question altogether. "I was... delayed. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be going to my room."
He did not give her the chance to make a dignified escape. "If you have not yet eaten, I have a proposition for you. Would you join me for breakfast this morning?"
How ominous. And why was he being polite? He only behaved decently that when he wanted something. He must be up to something, but she did not think she could refuse him. She tried to hide her anxiety at the prospect. "Certainly."
She could almost feel the smugness coming off of him in waves at her begrudging assent. "Then I will see you in my chambers in a quarter hour, Miss Westwood."
So soon? "A quarter hour? The ship is not yet cast off. Surely her Captain will be needed on deck."
His mood became flirtatious in an instant and he flashed his teeth in a lupine grin. "Why Miss Westwood, you flatter me. But Mr Smee and Saltson can handle something so commonplace as this."
She had barely been on the ship for five minutes and already she could feel him manoeuvring her. Could he go even a minute without concocting some scheme? She left him standing on the deck without another word.
She opened the door to her dressing room to find it much changed.
Gone were all the trunks of pirates costumes, and the railings which the Captain's clothes must have once hung from had been taken down. The parts of the walls that had been so damaged on the night of the caravel's destruction had been covered up cunningly with paintings. Two of them were oil portraits of noblemen, or perhaps historical figures, she did not know for certain, but the others showed scenes of natural beauty that appealed to her more. She traced over them with a gentle hand. Though she was not an accomplished artist, she knew enough to see that they were of both high quality and expense.
She could see a little desk and a chair in the corner nearest the window. But most importantly, taking up a great deal of the room was a bed. It was very small; most men could not have hoped to fit in it, but it would be big enough for her. Better still, the sheets were fine silk and the pillows large enough for her to fall into.
She looked about her room with genuine happiness. It felt homely, with a quaint charm to it, despite how cramped it still was. She thought she could be happy here, now that it felt more like the quarters of a travelling lady and less like an impromptu prison. She could barely reconcile the little room where she had sat and concocted schemes of escape and mutiny with the room she stood in now. A sentimental tear rose to her eyes and she dashed it away.
On the bed was a large white box, beautifully wrapped and with a letter attached. She took up the letter and read the elegant writing;
Dear Miss Westwood,
Welcome aboard. I hope you enjoy the bed. This way, perhaps at least one of us need not toss and turn.
Being an astute woman, you will note that there is a trunk under the bed where you might keep your belongings.
Your servant,
Captain Jas Hook
Stifling her apprehension, she opened the box to find a large, wide brimmed hat with a green silk sash. The Captain had probably bought it for her; she could imagine no-one else on the ship to have the sense of style or the money to buy such a thing. Her hands explored it thoughtfully. It really was quite beautiful. She had forgotten to buy a hat in town and would make good use of it, even if it came from him. Her complexion was dark enough that she never burned, but it would look fine on her, and besides, she thought with glee, it would cover up her deformity very well.
It all signified something, though. He had known she would come back. He must have been certain of it, though the crew had believed they would not see her again. Well, he had won his little bet, for whatever satisfaction that must give him. She had nowhere else to go. At least she would be more comfortable from now on.
She felt the lurching of the ship and knew they had cast off. Through the boards she could hear the men singing one of their shanties.
There was a rapping on the door. She opened it and was grateful to see Saltson, and not one of the new pirates. "Breakfast is served, Lady."
Anna-Maria glanced surreptitiously around the Captain's chambers, searching in vain for Smee. Perhaps he was with the rest of the men. She felt nervous to be here without Smee or any of her pirates around her, but she was not going to turn tail now. She had made her decision to stay aboard, at least until she found a better option, so at some point she was going to have to learn to tolerate the Captain's company.
She tried very hard to keep that in mind as she sat opposite him in a cherub-gilded chair, feeling almost painfully awkward.
At the other end of the table, Captain Hook had withdrawn his maimed arm from his sling and looked more like himself with his namesake on display. His merchant-Captain's guise was gone, and he was utterly a pirate again. His food had been pre-cut and he ate with only a fork, as if there was nothing abnormal about it.
Anna-Maria was able to control her hunger enough to eat with with good manners this time. She hid a smile when she saw a platter of roast beef placed near her, along with the customary salads.
"I like my new room." She said without thinking. "The bed most of all. If I am going to spend the rest of eternity on a pirate ship, I would rather do so in comfort."
He relaxed, relieved that she had broken the silence. "It will not be forever, Miss Westwood."
"Oh?" So he knew that this was only a temporary measure on her part, then?
His brows drew together in a frown and he replied seriously, "No. You will die eventually."
She drew back in surprise, awkwardness banished. "So I can die? I can be killed?" She had thought she would live forever. Had the Captain not mentioned something about watching Charlotte grow old and die?
If he was exasperated by her ignorance, he hid it well. "My dear thief, as I have said before, I haven't the slightest idea what you wished for. But unless you wished to be an immortal sea beast, then no, you are not immortal. And you did not drink enough of the well to gain immortality as a byproduct. So yes, you will die. Eventually. A terrible shame. Though you will outlive the ordinary peons, barring any violent or unlucky event."
That was not so bad. "Could I not…" An idea came to her. She mulled it over before continuing. "Could I not go to the wishing well again, wish to be rid of these things, and get something else instead? Something a little more traditional, unending riches or something?"
He tipped his glass to her. "Bravo. I was wondering when you would come up with it." She narrowed her eyes at his patronising tone, which he ignored. "Do you not think others before you have tried to reverse their wishes, hm?"
"Are you saying it cannot be done?" Her spirits sank. It had seemed like such a good idea.
"I am afraid not. Regrets alone cannot persuade the wishing well. It gives one wish to those that find it, and one wish only."
She did not like the sound of that. "You speak of it as if it is alive."
"It controls destiny itself. It has a will of its own." He grimaced. "This is not what I wanted to discuss. The well has never interested me beyond what I could get out of it. If you want the specifics, you should ask the others who have drank, some of them have made a study of the thing. What I wanted to set to rights was the issue of your place aboard the ship."
"I thought we already had."
His good mood vanished altogether at her pert reply and he cast her a sharp gaze. "Not to my liking, we didn't. Entertain the crew! Preposterous."
She grimaced. "Put like that, it does sound bad. But Smee says the crew enjoy having me aboard. I would have thought that morale would be important on long voyages."
He threw down his fork to glare at her across the table. "Miss Westwood, I do not give a damn what the crew enjoy, or whatever ideas the learned philosopher Smee has been putting in your pretty head. Surely you can see that there is only one person on ship who is your equal. One man that you should be spending any time with whatsoever."
She threw him a Look. She did not know if he could understand it, but if Charlotte had been there, she probably would have winced. "Oh, I see your meaning." She said in a dangerous tone.
The Captain's expression became expectant, bordering on hopeful. She continued, "You wish me to spend all my time with Saltson from now on."
The Captain hissed and his expression turned thunderous. "Saltson! Damnit, vile woman, you are a Drinker of the wishing well, however ill the thing may have treated you! To sink so below your station as to associate with those lowly-"
She ran right over him. She was no meek servant to be ordered about. "I am aboard a pirate vessel. Everyone on this ship, from yourself to the lowest deck-scrubber, is beneath me."
A lesser man would have lost his composure altogether, but Hook could control his temper when it suited him. "You realise," He replied with the air of a man about to play his last card, "That I went to Eton, do you not?" He proudly drew himself up a little.
She scoffed. "Anyone can go anywhere with enough money. Where you went to school is no consequence to me. What you have done with your life since then is what makes a man."
He went still. "Is that right?" He drawled. She ignored the screaming voice of common sense in her mind. She would not be told who to speak with by anyone. Even Father had never sought to control her in such a way, and she had respected his opinion and loved him. No pirate would do what he could not.
She carried on recklessly, "I may be only a merchant's daughter, but I am a good citizen of His Majesty, at least. Unlike you."
"Really. So very humble of you to at least rank yourself below a King." He smiled and caressed his wine glass thoughtfully. In a low voice, he said to himself, "How unfortunate. I had been about to offer you a share in our takings. No matter. I imagine that is all beneath an esteemed merchant's daughter such as yourself."
Takings?
And just like that, he had her. Anna-Maria was not stupid. She knew she was being manipulated, but that didn't make the prize any less tempting. Damn him. "Treasure?" She tried not to lick her lips. "Money?" Did she sound desperate? She felt desperate.
"Oh yes. There's plenty to go round. But-" He heaved a great sigh. "All the more for me, I suppose." He pulled a parchment out of his coat and threw it down the table. "I had been planning to make you a crewman, in name, at least, so you could have some of the spoils. But no, I see now…"
He kept talking in his usual grand manner, but she was no longer listening as she took up the parchment. She scanned through it as carefully and cynically as she had seen Father do with his own contracts and correspondences. She did not like what she saw. The matter of her duties was worryingly vague, simply written as, 'Reasonable orders will be carried out by the crewman.'
Who exactly decided what was considered a reasonable order? Surely the Captain, and she could imagine all too well how quickly such a thing could go wrong. But she was not against the idea, even if it would need rewording. Far from it, for a woman to be able to make her fortune was such a rare opportunity that she would be a fool to let it slip through her fingers. Father had raised her to be proud but not lazy, like some of the natural born aristocrats were. She was not adverse to work if there was something in it for her.
Still studying the scroll, she asked, "What is this talk of shares? Oh, shares of the plunder, you mean? Hm. What exactly are 'general duties'? If it is something nefarious, I will not sign to it."
At that moment, she was so distracted by her reading that she did not see how the Captain's spirit raged at her accusation. "Must you always be so suspicious of me?"
To that, she said nothing. If she answered him, they would be here all day and she might lose her opportunity to make a living for herself.
He rolled his eyes dramatically at her silence. "Fine. Perhaps a little work in the Crow's Nest when I have need of it. Your vision will be keener than any other crewman."
"Will I be expected to kill people?"
Intrigued, Hook cocked his head a little. "Would you like to?"
She was shocked by the question. "Would I-? Of course not. But I won't be asked to?"
"No. I could hardly force you. In fact, I would prefer you stayed out of that sort of thing altogether. I may be immortal, but you are not."
She let out a breath. She had been worried that he would try to use her ink for his own gain. "What shall I do if there is fighting? Perhaps I should be taught how to defend myself."
He gave her an incredulous look and she elaborated, "It is not a matter of want, but of need. What if we come under attack?"
The Captain laughed boldly. "I assure you, no one comes on my ship unless I want them here. The seas have not yet made a sailor who can outfight me, let alone outmanoeuvre me. Simply stay in your room. On no accounts should you go up on deck when we are engaged. Leave the violence to me."
It was hard to know which parts of his claims were true and which were exaggerations, or outright lies. But clearly he would not budge, and if he was willing to compromise on so many things, she thought that she should do the same. She thought of her room, of Charlotte safely on her way home with all that money, and of a crew that loved her, whether she deserved it or not.
And, most importantly, she thought of having enough money to feed her need for cards and dice.
She looked down at the parchment again and frowned. "I have no way of knowing if this is a good bargain." She said honestly. "I don't know how much these shares are worth. And I will not tolerate being treated like the rest of the crew."
He waved that last objection off. "Your status makes that impossible. And as for the subject of pay, it is more than any other crewman is paid. You will be paid nearly as much as myself. You may check the books if you doubt me."
She threw caution to the wind. "Then… I suppose I will agree."
He let out an exaggerated groan of relief. "Superb. I had no idea convincing you to accept money would be so difficult."
She bristled at that. Was she really that transparent? The Captain said consolingly, "Oh, do not look so dejected, my dear serpent. A lust for gold is the norm on a pirate ship."
She did not trust his newfound generosity one bit, so she decided to review the parchment later with Smee, just to be sure. But if he really was offering her money for so little work, she did not know how she could refuse him. She had seen how much treasure the ship could carry. A fair share of that could help her in the future. She had meant it when she had said that money could get you anywhere. With enough pirate gold behind her, she could afford to live on land. She could afford wigs, and servants paid well enough to be quiet, and a life unattached to a husband. And she could afford her gambling. She could not pretend that her lust for it did not influence her reasoning, even in so crucial a matter.
She did not know how long she would be on the Jolly Roger for, but if it's Captain was willing to help her, she would be only too happy to oblige him.
Eventually the Captain called out for the second course and crewmen came in with yet more dishes of food. Some of them were men she did not recognise, and one in particular gave her a spiteful glare that made her avert her eyes. She heard the Captain grunt under his breath. As the men left the room, she was able to look up again, and saw the Captain leaning back in his chair.
"I thought you enjoyed the company of pirates, Miss Westwood. Do not tell me you are growing shy of us now."
"Some pirates can be… amiable." He raised an eyebrow in interest. "But not all."
"Not that one? Rest easy, I shall not allow harm to come to you."
"Because of our truce?"
"That is a part of it, yes."
He wanted her to ask for the rest of it, she knew, but Anna-Maria would not take the bait. She had been led around the nose by him enough for one morning. She instead let herself lapse into silence, picking at her food and drinking the wine Captain Hook always seemed to have on the table. Did the man ever drink anything else? But he never seemed to be drunk. Perhaps her estimation in the tavern was right and she would be sober for as long as she lived.
However long that was.
The day passed slowly. She picked up one of her books but could not read more than a page without looking at her window at the sea. Eventually she threw the book down with a groan, knowing that she hadn't taken in a word of it. She had never been much of a reader, even before her life had become something from a children's story. She found herself preoccupied with thoughts of the life she had left behind, though she had accepted that this was for the best. For her family and for her. The craving had not gone away as she had hoped it would after all her months at sea. If she had stayed another night she knew that she would have found herself in a gambling house again. What would she have done then? Ask Charlotte to lend her money, just when her sister had finally broken free of her? Or worse, confess her need to the Captain? Surely that would be beyond the powers of her compulsion.
Or at least, she hoped so.
There was a knocking upon her door, breaking her dark chain of thought. "Who is it?" She called out warily.
"It's only me, Long Eye." And sure enough, she opened the door to see the tall marksman. He was dressed in his mismatched pirate rags again. "The Captain has called us all above deck. He wants you to join us, Miss."
For a moment she considered refusing, but as pretty as her room now was, she found it hard to stay in it for long. She had seen civilisation again and the closeness of the walls, even adorned by art as they now were, was too much for her. She longed to see open spaces again. As much as she couldn't see how a meeting of all the crew could bode well for her, she would like some fresh air.
When she and Pete climbed up on deck, she saw that almost every inch of space was crammed full with pirates. They hung from the rigging, clambered up on barrels and some of them even lounged upon the great cannon Long Tom. At a few soft words from her, the crew shuffled to give her breathing room, nearly knocking poor Half Dead Jack into the sea as they did.
With one hand upon the helm was their master, Captain Hook, who had taken the time to cover himself in gold and jewels. And then there were the new pirates, all bunched together, shoulder to grimy shoulder, with Smee standing before them in his ragged tartan pantaloons, shivering in the cold. Anna-Maria had to fight hard to keep her disgust and fear from showing. The new men looked even worse when they were all grouped together, if that was possible. Even her pirates, Pete and Bell and all the rest, looked uneasy around them, like sheep penned in with wolves.
Smee cleared his throat to address them, "You know this is no ordinary ship. The Captain's word is law on the Jolly Roger. There will be no elections. No wages for six months, exceptin' board. You're all expected to do whatever you're told, no matter the order. And in return, your pay will make other pirates wages look like pennies. And if pillage is what you want, it's what you get when you serve on this ship."
Some of the more seniors members of the crew cried out 'aye!' and brandished their weapons in the air savagely. She despaired of them then, her jolly sailors who had begged her to tell stories and sat with her when her nightmares were bad. She did not think they could be saved from their bloodlust, any more than she could be saved from her own sins.
Smee concluded his troubling speech by choosing men (seemingly at random) to serve as carpenters, surgeons assistants and the like. Three men were even chosen as launderers, much to their obvious confusion and disgruntlement. The idea of those barbarians doing laundry made her snigger, but she squashed it quickly when she saw one of them glare at her. Not in a playful way, nor even in the malicious way Hook had when they had first met, but with such hate that a woman armed with less bravery and more common sense would have run screaming at the sight of it. Being herself, however, she lifted up her chin at him in stubborn defiance.
At that moment, Captain Hook spoke up. "Dogs, you can see that a woman is aboard the ship. Some of you may have seen women at some point in your sordid existence." The new crewmen laughed nervously. They did not seem to know what to make of the well spoken Captain Hook in his tailored suit and elaborate hair, so at odds with the rest of the ship. "For the purpose of this voyage, and for all voyages hereafter, any man who lays so much as an eye upon her with ill intent shall wish that I had only hung, drawn and quartered him." The ship went deadly quiet and all the new men looked down at their feet in fear. "Obey her, respect her. That is all. Unless you have anything further to add, Miss Westwood?"
What could she say to that? But she saw her pirates were looking at her encouragingly. She felt Pete nudge her side gently. She cleared her throat and said loftily, "That will do."
The Captain broke the spell with a roar, "Well, get to it men! If this ship isn't in Spanish waters in four days, you'll regret the day you were born!"
As soon as the men dispersed, the Captain approached her, pushing aside and swiping his hook at men who did not move out of his way fast enough. One of the new men caught the point of the hook across the cheek and he almost complained, before whimpering at the fierce look in the Captain's eyes and scurrying away as fast as his legs could carry him.
What did he want from her now? "Captain."
"Miss Westwood." He bowed low and swept off his hat for her.
She nearly rolled her eyes. He was obviously in one of his moods, but she was as curious as ever. "You told the new crewmen not to hurt me. Why would you do that for me?"
"I have no desire to break my end of the bargain, as you may recall. While you are a part of my crew, you are under my protection."
That was a ridiculous thing to say and she was not going to let him get away with it. "Captain, you do not care about your crew, much less protect them."
"Well, no, why the devil would I? But you are not some pustulent, illiterate cretin. You are one of my own. My only concern is to ensure your happiness and-" her sudden snort stopped him in his tracks, "Alright, you fastidious thing, the sad truth of it is that if any harm should befall you, I would-" He paused for a moment.
"You would what?"
"I would miss you. There. You will laugh at me again, or call me a liar and say this is another scheme, no doubt. But it is the truth. I have come to quite enjoy your company, despite your regrettable assaults on my person."
His bare-faced honesty knocked her back, and she could only reply, "It is hard to believe." But she could not ignore it any longer. Even George had pointed it out. "How could you enjoy the company of a woman who has tried to kill you? Who you treated as an enemy when we first met?"
"An enemy? How you do love to pontificate. Woman, if you had ever been my enemy, you would lie in a watery grave even now." The monstrous face he had shown to her when they had first met came to the surface in a cruel glimmer, then vanished again with words as smooth as honey. "Sweet snake, we were merely… caught on opposing sides of the same game. An unfortunate circumstance that we both regret, I think."
An unfortunate circumstance? How he still trivialised his crimes against her. She lashed out at his most vulnerable point; his pride. "Was it admired at Eton; your habit of toying with those who cannot defend themselves? To pit yourself against unarmed, helpless opponents, while you are surrounded by allies and have so rigged the game that you are beyond death?
But once again, he was not as injured as she might have hoped. "You may call yourself helpless, if you wish. Certainly it would satisfy your melodramatic whims, though it is far from true. And while we are on the subject, Miss Westwood, I will have you know that some of the most savage and relentless foes I have ever encountered have been women." He paused. "Armed or not, you would certainly qualify."
Her? A savage and relentless foe? The idea was so charming that she forgot most of her anger. "Because of that trick with the ink?"
"And the rest. Do not think that I have forgotten your little plots against me. The mutiny, the murder of my crewmen, both on the island and on my own ship. You are quite a dangerous creature. And that business with the sharks was-."
She felt the blood drain from her face. "What business with the sharks?" She demanded, looking at the crew, who seemed intent on ignoring them. Whenever their paths crossed, they parted before the two of them like a river around boulders. For all intents and purposes, they were alone, even while surrounded on all sides.
Hook did not have eyes for the crew at all and continued gaily on, "Oh, that night you killed three of my men, and ruined some particularly fine costumes. The night with all the pillaging."He did not break stride as he recounted the atrocities of that night. There was not a shred of guilt in him, she realised. They could have been discussing the weather rather than the utter destruction of an innocent ship and all its sailors. His gaze became piercing as he taunted, "You must recall? I am sure you have not killed so many men that such an evening could have slipped your mind entirely."
"You are mistaken." How had he known? She had thought that her descent into mindless evil had been her secret. "I have no idea what you mean."
He would not be deceived by so obvious a lie and retorted, "I am never mistaken. It is one thing to try to eat a man, but another entirely to forget the whole thing. You insult me. Though you were not quite yourself at the time, so I may forgive you." He laughed at her shocked and reddening face and said with a hint of bitterness, "I assure you, I am quite experienced at being eaten. If I had not put you to sleep, you would have managed it, I think. Vicious creature." His eyes admired her in a way that only made her redder.
His casual way of speaking of terrible things was so strange that her mind sometimes reeled as she listened to him. "Put me to sleep? Eaten you?" She asked weakly.
By the time he had regaled her with the whole tale (significantly embellished, as was his way) Anna-Maria was ready to pull out what was left of her hair. She had thought the traumatic and humiliating affair could remain her own business, for the sake of her pride, if nothing else. Charlotte had always impressed the importance of putting on a good face to the world, and for him to have seen her at such a time... Not only that, but his story only confirmed her suspicion that she could be a danger to others while possessed by these visions. She had killed three crewmen; dashed their brains against the walls if Hook was to be believed. And she did believe him. She was only glad she had not killed anyone she had cared about. Yet.
For the first time she hated the well, faustian thing that it was.
It was all just so unjust. She had not drank from the well knowing what it was, or even with any bad intentions. How could the thing have the right or the power to destroy her life? She had been caught up in a contract she had never signed. It was not fair.
"I have damned myself forever, and all because I was thirsty. I am finished." She ranted, coming to a stop before the railing.
She was so distracted that she had not really considered where she was going, and before she could stop herself, her eyes had gone down, down into the gentle waves. The sea was calm and grey and mesmerising. Her lips parted as she stared downwards. The whispers came into her mind again and she thought she could see something moving in the depths. She would have groaned with despair, if she could. She had hoped they would leave her alone; they had been quiet since she had come back aboard. Apparently it had only been a reprieve.
Then the whispers intensified and it crossed her mind that she would very much like to go for a swim in the ocean.
She did not notice Hook gazing at her thoughtfully, then looking down into the sea as he tried to fathom what it was that so fascinated her. Then he saw a fin break the surface of the water and he understood, and approached to stand beside her.
"Do you hear them now?" He asked softly. His hook came to rest on the railing beside her hand.
She nodded wordlessly.
"Is it a… torment for you? It must be dreadful, to hear the thoughts of such creatures." His hook inched a little closer to her hand. "You see them in your dreams, do you not? That is why you cry out in the night. You feel yourself being eaten alive, torn to shreds by a thousand sharp teeth."
Whether or not he meant to do it, his words broke the enchantment of the sea and the beasts in it. She blinked owlishly as she came back to herself. "Yes."
His black heart danced with glee. "Perhaps we can help one another, you and I. I have some experience when it comes to ravenous beasts such as these."
She looked at him in disbelief, then with discomfort as she realised that they were standing shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the sea. To the many uninformed eyes aboard the Jolly Roger, she knew that his nearness could be construed as something... inappropriate. Romantic, even.
"Don't look so shocked. I know what it is to be hunted." He stared down into the grey expanse of the ocean. He looked mortal in that moment. Maybe all men did, compared to the sea.
Seeing him standing there, she thought she could remember something. A glimmer in the dark hour of the night that she had forgotten. She could see the pallor of his face above hers, lit only by the light of the moon. He had been staring down at her with wild-eyed terror. The sort of fear that made you feel sick to your bones. The sort of fear she had felt when she saw his ship for the first time. He had looked so lost. Had whatever had hunted him put that terror in his eyes? Even when he had drank the glass of poison she had poured for him, he had not seemed so afraid.
Try as she might, she could not remember any more. But even that glimpse was enough. For the first time, she felt the first stirrings of intrigue for the Captain. Not for what he was, as she had before, but for who he was. In that memory she felt that she had seen something intensely private, something she had never been meant to see. But now she had discovered that moment again she could feel it colour her perception of him. She had meant what she had said to the crew when she had been brewing her mutiny, even if her intentions at the time had been manipulative. Men and women knew fear, and for all that Hook could not be murdered, he was still a man.
And as for Captain Hook? He had no idea that Anna-Maria had recovered the memory. If he had known that she now recalled how he had blanched and quaked with terror at the mere thought of the Crocodile, who knows what ill-considered and malicious things he may have done to recover his facade of invincibility. Captain Hook is not a man to admit fear or weakness.
But while Anna-Maria was thinking of him, he was thinking of her too, albeit in a different way.
Even at this early juncture, Captain Hook had begun to lay out a serious plan of how to convince the beautiful Anna-Maria to admire him. Allow me to be clear on this point, so that he is well understood. At this time, Hook was not in love with our heroine, though he had come to esteem her and enjoy her company so much that he had expended the effort of tricking her into deciding to remain aboard his ship of her own free will. He found her brave, resourceful, vicious and he believed that she might just be his equal, for all that she was mortal and could not wield a sword. Most often, his regard for her would have provoked him into swearing a vendetta against her, but circumstances had made that impossible. Since Anna-Maria was too dangerous to be his enemy and too willful to be his servant, Captain Hook was starting to think that she should simply be his.
But to his genuine shock, she had rejected and ignored his attempts at flattery and intimacy. If anything, she appeared to be disgusted by him. Her blatant dislike wounded his ego and enticed him to rise to the challenge of changing her mind. A more sensible man would have simply given up if the woman he desired had such good reason to hate him, but Hook was determined, and grew more determined with every passing day.
Despite his self-made obstacles, Hook had learned from the best manipulator and seducer imaginable. One of the most fascinating pieces of knowledge he had taken from Neverland was this; a boy could steal a girl away from her family, put her own brothers into mortal danger, even rob her of her future, but as long as he made himself look grand in the process, she would call him a hero and adore him above all others. And the more Hook turned the capricious and courageous Anna-Maria over and over in his brain, the more he thought he might like it if she adored and revered him.
Of course, our Hook would never be a hero, nor even want to be one. But he understood full well that if he wanted Anna-Maria to look upon him in the same way that he had come to look upon her, he would be wise to do something to make her see him in a more generous, less realistic light.
As he came upon the idea, a menacing smile curved his lips. "Luckily for you, the solution to your troubles is simple. When an animal is done with being prey, he simply uses his teeth. Smee! Fetch me my good musket!" Smee ran off into his master's chambers with a nasty chuckle that made Anna-Maria worry.
Captain Hook must have seen her tentacles toss on her head, for he grimaced and hurried to reassure her, "Now now, Miss Westwood, don't fret, I'm a man of my word. No harm will come to you."
A procession of pirates scampered down from Hook's chambers a very short while later, with Smee in the lead, flanked by Saltson and Pete. The three men carried a long red cushion in their arms with a solemn air, and upon the cushion was a gun, which they presented proudly to Captain Hook and Anna-Maria.
Now admittedly, Anna-Maria knew very little of guns, but even she could see that this one was impressive. It was sleek and hewn from a dark wood, and at least as long as she was tall, with gold leaf creeping up its stock. A crimson sling hung from it, embroidered with scenes of death. She studied it and saw a man, no, it was Hook, it could be none other, being eaten by a massive beast... A crocodile? And there was more; she saw a little girl tumbling into the sea. A youth on his knees, holding his entrails in his hands. Her breath caught. It was terrible, but no less magnificent for it. A weapon worthy of a siren's song.
At a sharp word from his Captain, Pete began to pour black powder into the wide barrell of the gun. Behind him, much of the crew were tentatively creeping away from their duties to watch the spectacle.
Carefully watching her, Hook said smoothly, "If I have learned one thing over the years, woman, it is that your enemies must fear you. In your case, your enemies have no legs, which makes them rather easier to kill, don't you think? Have you shot before?"
"You cannot mean- that I should-" He wanted her to shoot the sharks? She looked at the musket in awe and not a little anxiety. It was made to be beautiful and to kill. She couldn't deny the thrill she felt at the sight of it. "No. Never."
He made a little tutting sound beneath his breath. "A damn shame. Well, aren't you lucky that I'm here? Take it up, I will show you. Look, even now the stupid beasts break the surface of the water." And though she could not look down at the water for fear of being taken in again, she could feel their closeness.
Her hands curled and uncurled by her sides. Could she do it? She wanted to. Why should she not?
She heard one of the crewmembers encouraging her, whispering, "Pick it up, Miss." Another took up the cry, and soon half the crew were stamping their feet and shouting, "Shoot, Miss Maria!" Though of course the new members of the crew had no idea what she would be shooting at, but they were murderers through and through and were caught up in the moment.
With a smile she did not understand, she reached out and touched the gun. It felt smooth and expectant. The crew held their breath and its Captain watched her with lidded eyes.
She took up the gun in both hands, feeling the weight of it. It felt like power. It felt like taking her life into her own hands. Her smile grew wider, and as she slipped the blood-red sash over one bare shoulder, the crew erupted into applause. In the crowd she could see Mr Bell cheering, Saltson clapping his hands, George nodding in respect. The Captain laughed with real pleasure and she felt so giddy that she almost laughed with him. How long had it been since a crowd of people had looked at her like that? Perhaps on her last ball, when Father had held her up for all the world to admire? But even that had not felt quite like this. She was not being lauded for her dress or her face, but rather for something she might do. At that moment, she did not care that they were pirates, only that they approved of her. That was as intoxicating as the gun itself.
After tutting and muttering to himself, the Captain instructed her fussily on how to hold the gun properly. She slid one hand further down the barrel and Smee tugged at the sash, tightening it around her, only leaving her be when the Captain waved him away crossly. Her heart was racing. Was she really about to shoot a gun and kill her tormentors? It was only a pity she could not kill all of her tormentors, she thought, looking at the Captain with a cool eye. Sadly, Captain Hook was far stronger an enemy than a shark. His lips twitched in a small smile and she thought something of her murderous intent might have shown in her face.
Trust the Captain to think of such a plan. It had never crossed her mind to kill the sharks. Could she do it? She wanted to. She had not much experience with vengeance, but she could avenge herself on these things without any guilt. After all, she knew very well that it was only after their assault on her that her tentacles had grown yet further, and worse, that new ones had begun to emerge, blessedly painlessly, from her head.
There had to be a swarm of sharks below, by the feel of it. She could sense their blood lust, driven up to air and their deaths by her excitement. The question was, would she miss? She thought that if she shot at them and missed, with the Captain and all the crew behind her, she would fling herself into the sea, all consequences be damned.
Ah. Her brain caught up and the fire inside her guttered out as she realised that she could not aim. She could not even look at the sea, let alone at the sharks themselves, not without risking her sanity. As Captain Hook tweaked the gun in her grip once more, she almost threw it down and walked away. But how could she, with the whole crew standing right behind her?
Ignorant of her plight, Captain Hook was proclaiming, "Now, killing usually requires practice before you can really excel, but in this case," The Captain peered over the railing, "There are so many of the damn things, I doubt you could miss. It will be like shooting fish in a barrel. Have at it." He waved his hook expansively in the direction of the sea.
She hesitated, mind racing to think of some plausible lie she could tell. A headache? Suspicious. A vow of pacifism? He would never believe it. He knew that she had killed before.
It was too late. The Captain was looking at her and frowning. Those pale eyes saw too much. She spun around and faced the sea with her eyes screwed closed, her fingers tight around the musket.
"Ah. You are nervous of guns, perhaps." His voice became a whip-crack. "Give the lady some breathing room, bilge rats! She has never shot before!" Behind her, she heard the crew quickly shuffling back.
Captain Hook stood behind her. "Go on, pull the trigger. They have hunted you across the sea. They have even followed you into your dreams." He leaned in closer to whisper into her ear in his clipped voice, "Why hesitate? Make them regret it. Make them fear you."
She turned her head away from the sea, just enough to look at him. He was close enough that she could smell him, she realised. It was not entirely unpleasant. Masculine, since women did not often smell of smoke and alcohol. Very, very quietly, she said. "I can't look down. I can't look at them."
She felt a ripple of surprise run through him, and he cocked an eyebrow elegantly in an unspoken question.
Simply, honestly, she said under her breath, "I am too afraid."
She waited for him to humiliate her. It would be so easy for him. He could crow about the weakness of the woman who tried to overthrow him, and all the crew would mock her and her fledgling sense of belonging would be destroyed. She would be a joke, a coward. She waited for it.
But it did not come. Instead, he moved closer until his chest was flush against her back. At her astonishment, he shushed her and said, "Allow me. We will do it together." She hesitated. "The men shall not know a thing. You have my word."
She faced the waves with her eyes still closed. Every nerve in her body was tingling. The stink of the sea was so strong up here, and the creaking of the ship filled the air. She felt Captain Hook guiding the musket down, just a little, and then to the left.
Into the shell of her ear, he murmured, "Pull the trigger. Now."
There was no time to question anything. She felt the gun crying to be used in her hands.
She pulled the trigger. Everything happened at once.
The bang was deafeningly loud.
Agony ripped through the left side of her head. She saw a sun blazing behind her eyes. She fell back against Hook as the strength of her legs deserted her. Her brain pulsed and she heard a scream beneath the waves, then visceral rage and hate. The pain dulled, and only the rampaging of the sharks were left. Minus one.
As her ears and mind recovered, she could hear Captain Hook roaring. "Back, dogs, back!" He stopped as he felt her stirring against him. He turned back to her in concern. "Miss Westwood, I thought you had fainted. Let go of the musket, I have it."
She took a deep breath of the reeking air. Was that what gunpowder smelt like? It helped sharpen her thoughts, if nothing else. "No. No. Another." She felt one less shark in her mind. She had killed one. But it was not enough.
At a nod from his Captain, Pete took the musket from her and began reloading it. She was still leaning against him, and pulled herself up with a little effort. She had almost fainted, but she was stronger now.
Pete handed her the musket and, forcing her eyes open, she aimed in the general direction of the sharks. They were in a frenzy, madly fighting each other for the scraps of their fallen brother. They were far too busy to invade her. "Is this close enough?" She asked Hook. Eyes open or not, she was a novice.
"A little lower. Excellent. Now."
She pulled the trigger.
Again the bang, and again the pain. Her back ripped upon with a searing, white heat and would have dropped the gun if not for the Captain's hand.
But the shark was not dead yet, only crippled and in agony. Good. She thought viciously.
She turned to face the crew. "Pete." She had to speak loudly to hear herself over the delirium of the sharks. She met Hook's eyes brazenly. He looked at her with open satisfaction and something else she could not define. But she had no time for the Captain's secrets now. "Load it again." She demanded, and Pete obeyed. The crew cheered her.
Again and again she fired her hatred and rejection into the sea. All her fury did not make up for her lack of skill and she needed Hook's guidance more than once, whether by a soft word or a subtle hand on the gun.
"Ah-! So close. Could the beasts not accept their fate, rather than swimming around so? Try again, Miss Westwood. You are quite the shot."
But thanks to his corrections and the sheer numbers of the sharks in the water, she rarely missed completely. It hurt, it hurt so badly, but she hated them more than she feared pain. She screamed with rage and anguish as gunfire painted her legs in red agony.
One of the sharks spoke to her then. In tones of terror and outrage, it cried, "Stop, One From Above, stop hunting us! We will swim for warmer waters!" She thought it might have been the same one who had spoken to her when she came aboard the ship. Their leader?
"Yes. You will." She thought nastily.
And then, with one last shot, they were gone. Her mind felt hollow, but her heart was full to the brim. The once grey water had been stained red as rubies. She could barely stand, but as she pressed the musket into Hook's arms, she tipped her head back and laughed for joy.
They were all dead. She was free. She was invincible.
Leaning over the edge, she screamed into the water, "Come back again, and I will shoot you all!"
The crew roared, and the Captain cried out rapturously, 'bravissimo!' Tears sprung up into her eyes. The Captain began to coo and wipe at her nose with a lace handkerchief. It came away red with blood. She had not noticed that she was bleeding, and she did not care.
She had never felt so proud of herself.
Autors note: A quote for this chapter, now that it is finished: "No sheth an sary' (No herb shall heal like blood on the steel)" ― by Joel Shepherd, from his wonderful book Tracato.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as we did. I am sorry for the wait, but the vast majority of part two is now done. I am hoping for the next chapter to be ready for upload soon.
Bosun Marcella here! So I think we have never changed so much in one chapter as we did in this one! So I hope you will like this chapter because we've done everything to perfect it! I think this part is the start of the feelings, so it is pretty important y'know. And for Anna-Maria it's the first time she conquered her fears! Over all, this chapter is probably one of my favourites. Well, as the first chapter of part two, I'm satisfied, there will be many great chapters to part 2 so sit tight! And see you next update!