That little incident was close to a year ago and oh how my life changed in that small space of time. It's hard to decide where to start but I suppose the beginning is as good a place as any.
After an exhausting twenty minute swim into the port, Jack and I strode ashore as though it were perfectly normal to have your ship blow up then head for the nearest tavern soaking wet. Jack got us seats near the massive fireplace that lit and warmed the place and ordered us two rums so we could warm up and dry off.
"You certainly don't do things by half's, do you Cruggy?" he sat down heavily in the chair opposite me.
"I certainly don't" I began gulping down my rum as fast as I could, "I could say the same thing about you sir"
"You could, but it really doesn't need saying" Jack was eyeing something or someone over my shoulder with great interest. I looked around and spied a young man with a wide brimmed hat and dark skin which was currently flushing due to the fact that they were yelling rather angrily at some poor sod who appeared to have walked into him by accident.
"I'll be right back" Jack stood, adjusting his hat and swaggered off towards the angry gentleman, putting his arm around their shoulders and leading him out of the tavern, whispering in his the all the time.
I snorted, "Famous last words" I mumbled, draining my tankard. He wasn't coming back.
I sat in that same spot for the rest of the night, drinking and drinking, trying to work out what I was going to do with myself now I was here before latching onto another lonesome chap who was just as blootered as I was and convincing him to by me a drink.
"What is the point? I mean seriously…" I took another glug of rum, "What is the point in being alive?"
"I've been asking myself that very question for the past six years!"
I pointed at him, "I can beat that. Ten. Ten years I've been like this" I gestured to myself, "And for what? Hmmmm? What exactly?"
My question was never answered because this lonesome chap decided that we should continue our conversation in one of the rooms upstairs. I am not sure whether he was so drunk that he did not care who or what he shagged or if he had worked out I was female, either way, he breathed a sigh of relief when the time came to remove my britches.
And so I stayed in Tortuga, drinking, gambling, fighting, thieving and shagging. I discovered that if I did not drink constantly I sobered up rather quickly, resulting in dizziness and nausea so I drank as much as I could, when I could. The gambling and fighting part was all in good sport. I would often join in card or dice games and although I was a fair enough card player, it was expected of you to cheat resulting in being caught leading to a fist fight outside said tavern. Sometimes I would join in sometimes I would just watch and place bets. I was quick enough never to gain any serious injuries such as broken bones but I had my fair share of black eyes, burst lips and split knuckles. The thieving bit only really happened when I was desperate for money as Tortuga was hardly a place where people frequently paid for their drinks and other wares but sometimes desperate times called for desperate measures when you needed so much to join a card game or I was just spitting feathers then it was easy enough to nick a purse or casually saunter onto a small business trading boat and saunter off again with a bundle of cotton, bag of grain or the odd time a disgruntled goat.
The shagging, surprisingly, was a slightly more complicated matter and this annoyed me. It was no longer a matter of thoughtless sex in an alley or the room above The Hags Knee that I claimed as my own and threatened to break anyone who said otherwise. Well, it was still a matter of thoughtless sex, but it began to affect me mentally. Not one to brag, but I discovered that my story had been widely told, making me quite famous and when word got about that I was actually in Tortuga, well the men were practically lining up to have a go. After all, I was a bit legendary and therefore mysterious which made everyone curious.
The thing was, after the deed was done, I would lie there while he slept, staring out of the grimy window at the sky sobering up feeling rather stupid, sad and a little bit empty, but I couldn't work out why. This was quickly replaced by a sense of achievement and the need of get whoever it was out of my room. It was my private place, so as far as I was concerned he could piss off.
Another annoying side of things was that it began to affect me physically too. My health was deteriorating as my tanned skin had a sickly yellow tinge and any injury took ages to heal as though my body was weakening.
The most concerning thing was when I stop bleeding and began to vomit in the mornings. My stomach began to swell slightly also, looking very prominent against my skinny frame. I believed that I was just suffering from a stomach illness but I must have known what it really was, deep, deep down. I tried to ignore it and carry on as usual but one night it would have a bigger impact on events than I could have imagined.
"You can't deny this defeat any longer!" I grinned across the table at a very red-in-the-face Puerto Rican, "Your games up Antony" I pulled my winnings across the table towards me.
"No! You lie! Lies!" His moustache bristled and flecks of spit appeared at his lips in fury, his speech slurring due to his heavy alcohol consumption. It was a bit disgusting, be so drunk you didn't know what you were doing. I liked being drunk, but I never got so drunk I wasn't in control. You needed to stay sharp in a town like Tortuga.
Of course I had won by cheating, "I know, but this was a game of lies, not who was the more skilled card player and you sir, quite frankly are terrible at cheating! Either way, I am the better man." I pulled the money and jewellery into my satchel. Not wanting to waste any more time with this fool, I left, hoping to spend my wares on a good meal, or maybe some rum.
I was only a short way towards a different tavern when I hear someone yell a warning behind me followed by a heavily accented cry of, "Bitch!"
I spun around and saw this Antony charging towards me, his sword drawn, ready to fight. I sighed, irritated, I felt far too tired to engage with this man, but it needed to be done. I flung my satchel to one side and drew my cutlass. Already a crowed as forming and they had made a tight circle just as metal clashed.
I had to give him the credit; he was putting up a fair fight. My sword skills had improved, but I still wasn't great at it so I struggled, just managing to keep up with him. It went on for a good while, and people cheered and placed bets, but I began to get sick of this and tried to think of a way to end it. I parried hard against him and seeing him falter, hit him hard across the face with my grip and kicked his cutlass out of his hand. I gave a snort of triumph and a few people cheered for me. I turned to recognise my audience, grinning and threw my hands up in the air, giving a slight theatrical bow and provoking some laughter, I turned back just in time for Antony to jump on me, knocking me backwards. I went to punch him again, but froze as I felt a strange sensation in my stomach and something warm trickle down my front. Antony stepped back, looking pleased with himself, madness glinting in his eyes.
Swaying on my feet, my face frozen in shock, I glanced down, seeing a small, gilded handled dagger sticking out from my belly. That's when the pain came.
"She's been stabbed" someone muttered, but many were losing interest and where walking away, only a few stayed.
I looked up at Antony, clutching my stomach, "Well done mate…you've killed me…."
His face looked blank as one of his cronies pulled him away. I spat on the ground in disgust and felt my knees buckle but someone caught me just before I hit the ground. I looked up at them, my vision beginning to blur, just about catching a strong jaw and a shock of red hair before I let darkness surround me.
Was I dead? It was hard to tell. It was certainly very warm and cosy. I could hear movement behind me and someone shuffling about along with a fire crackling. I finally opened one bleary eye to find that I was in a large kitchen lying on a scrubbed wooden table with a heavy travelling cloak thrown over me. Something delicious smelling bubbled away over the heat and various pots and pans glowed coppery in the light.
I tried to sit up but a sudden pain shot up through me from my stomach, making me cry out and lie back down again.
"Oh goodness" a feminine voice said from behind me and a small woman moved to my side, "Don't try to move dear. Here" She gently moved me to lie back down and stuffed a small bundle of leaves in my mouth and making me chew, telling me it was for the pain. Sure enough the pain in my stomach was reduced to a dull throbbing. This woman continued to fuss, fetching me water and tucking the cloak in around me. I just stared; too overwhelmed by her to stay anything or argue when she scolded me for trying to move. I watched her instead. She must have been in her early twenties, her pale skin smooth and clear, flushed pink from the heat in the kitchen. She had pale blue eyes that held a matronly, but firm gaze and her soft blonde curls poked out from her cap which she often brushed away with the back of her hand while she worked. She was plump, but not fat with muscular arms that worked away as she stirred the pot or turned the mangle. What struck me most about her, however, that she was working as hard as any man whilst being very heavily pregnant.
My brain began to slowly click into gear and I started asking questions, "Emm…who are you? And where am I? What on earth happened?"
She stopped and gave me a sympathetic look, "Oh poor dear. You must be so confused. My name is Annabel, I'm Peter's wife"
"Peter? Peter who?"
Annabel looked confused, "He said he knew you…"
Just then a man entered the room, he was older then Annabel with red hair and a face that I recognised, "You!" It was Peter, my Peter from all those years ago.
"How are you feeling Crugg?" he asked eagerly, glancing up at his wife.
"Tired" I replied, glad I was finally getting some answers. I must be in the living quarters of his tavern, assuming Peter Senior had passed on, "What happened?"
"You were stabbed in a fight" Annabel said, "Thank God Peter was about; he was able to get you back here. I operated and stitched you up."
"She's a talented woman, my wife" Peter looked at her fondly
I was getting a bit sick of all this loveliness, I wrinkled my nose then stopped, "Hold on, operated?"
They looked at one another awkwardly. I grunted in annoyance as I didn't like being treated like a child, especially as I was older than both of them, "What?"
"Did you not know?" Annabel said softy, "You are…..were with child"
I frowned and swallowed hard, "I was what?"
"I said…"
"I heard what you said" I began to feel sick, I pulled back the cloak and wrenched up my shirt revealing a heavy amount of bandaging around my stomach. I peeled it back slightly and looked, horrified to see a scar clogged up with stitches around six inches long running diagonally to my bellybutton.
"I'm so sorry-" Peter began but he never got to finished as I stuck my head over the side of the bench and was violently sick on the floor.
Weirdly enjoyed writing this chapter, probably because Crugg has been allowed to do her own thing for a while. I know that's a bit of a sad note to leave things on, but we have to remember life was brutal in the 18th Century, hopefully thing s will start looking up for her soon. Please let me know what you think!