Chapter 4: Surviving
Katerina stayed awake for the rest of the night, thinking that she had a good enough nap earlier that evening and there was also the fact that neither her mind nor her stomach allowed her to have anything close to rest. The thoughts and plans of escape from her floating prison were shot down one after another. Jack would never let her go onto land and there was no way she would make it in the ocean with the countless animals swimming in the salty water. The endless rumbling of her stomach couldn't be helped unless she gave up her pride, which wouldn't be any time soon.
The sun had set before she was woken by Anamaria so she had no way of knowing what time it was and she didn't even care to count the hours since her talk with the 'captain'. She laid on her back with her hands behind her head in the cabin looking out the small porthole to see the small amount of stars only contemplating on what to do. If she didn't eat, she would eventually starve to death and she would never be able to see her loved ones again. That's probably what the pirates want. They want her to waste away so they could just throw her over board! She wouldn't stand for it; if they were thinking that she could just go unnoticed she was going to make sure that she was always seen and always heard.
"I'm not going to die today or any other day on this bloody boat!" she hissed to no one in particular.
She got up from the bed and marched over to the door and flung it open. The shock of the unlocked door almost knocked her down. Apparently the great Jack Sparrow had forgotten to lock it when he left, or he actually wanted her to come out. Although he did say to find him on deck if she decided to start work on the ship.
Before she stepped outside the cabin she decided she had better change into the clothing Jack had brought in earlier for her. There was no need for her to wear her gown any longer with it looking like a collection of rags and showing every inch of her legs from the knees down. Besides, even with half of the skirt torn off it wasn't something to do work in.
She closed the door and quickly looked for where she had thrown the bag of clothes last. From the side of the room she grabbed the now wrinkled clothes from the bag and looked at them with a slight disapproving look on her face. The pants were much more then slightly baggy and the shirt could be as big as her full body undergarment. She put the shirt and pants on trying to tuck the shirt into the pants. She kept the breeches up by tying some of the width of the waist together. Happy that they weren't too long she thought that they were probably made for a chubbier, short man. The white shirt had probably been worn too many voyages to be called white any longer. She pulled some of the lacing from her destroyed dress and tied her hair into a small ponytail. While tying her hair back the sleeves of the shirt got in her way. She grabbed the aging sleeves and pulled them each until they began to tear at the shoulder, giving her arms plenty of space. Although with no sleeves she was showing a lot of skin.
She looked at her reflection in the glass of the porthole and decided that the clothes were an update from the dress. She again opened the door and looked up and down the dank hallway. Apparently even for a pirate it was either too late or too early to be up around the ship. Katerina soothed out the excess material in her shirt as she followed the wall down the hall. She finally made her way out to the deck and for the first time in a day or so she was able to step outside and breath the fresh sea air. The midst rushed by her face spraying her cheeks and eyelashes with the small droplets of salt water rushed up from the waves below.
The wind began blowing her ponytail every which way; apparently the lace from the dress wasn't holding up too well. The front part of her hair wouldn't stay tied back and fell into her face, blocking some of her vision in the process. She blew out a puff of frustration and just pulled the lace out of her hair and let the wind have its way with the black strands. The strands hit and whipped her face and neck, some of the longer pieces of hair reaching the top part of her back.
She went to the railing and held on to it as she looked over the still dark water and sky. The two seemed to melt into one another with a barley visible line separating them. They had so much in difference, yet the two bodies seemed to find a way to meet each other in likeness and peace during the night.
She let her eyes drop close and let the sea breeze renew her outlook on the Black Pearl. From her reading on ships and how they are made, the Pearl was one of the great ships that would probably take a lot before it was to be taken down. But even with a fine ship as this, Katerina could have hoped for better company in the captain. She was too young to remember the trip over from England, but her older brother would tell her about the nice captain that commanded the ship and the crew on board.
She opened her eyes and rubbed the dark, wooden railing in front of her. The memory of her brother opened her back up to reality and the situation that she had placed herself in. Making a reverse statement from before she whispered softly to herself that she was glad to be away from the estate. Away from all that society and pressure to marry and be the greatest woman she could be expected to be.
"At least I'm away from father," she said to the waves.
"And out of yer room," a voice floated down from the upper deck. She looked behind her to find the captain coming down the stairs, "I thought with yer attitude ye'd never come out."
"I suppose I needed some fresh air. I was tired of sitting in the room, doing nothing but hoping for a great ship to blow his one out of the water," she knew it was a lie, but she still had to keep her face on. There was no way she would let him get to her. She turned her whole body, now leaning back on the railing, "Besides I couldn't get back to sleep after my rude awakening."
"Is tha' why yer up so early?" he stepped off the bottom step and tried to look smart keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Yes," she said simply, looking over his head to the fading night.
"I was thinkin' ye may 'ave wanted some food," he quirked one eyebrow and then looked over the horizon.
"Don't give your hopes up, Captain," Katerina looked at him.
"Oh, captain now is it?" he smirked still keeping his eyes on the waves.
"It was the slip of the tongue. You have made those more then once I imagine," she stood up straight and folded her arms in front of her chest. She tried to keep her dignity and her stable refusal to call him anything respected. Before either of them could say anything her stomach seemed to began to growl louder then the waves crashing beneath the ship.
"Wha's tha'? A slip of the gut?"
"So . . . I'm hungry. Is that a crime?"
"Usually hungry people get food to eat."
"Ok, fine," she tried to stand tall in her moment of defeat, "Here is the deal. I need food; therefore, according to you I must work. But get this into your small brain, Jack Sparrow . . . I am only working to live, not to serve."
"Fine then," he said looking down a few inches to see her face plastered with her ebony hair, "Ye work for food. One thing though, ye need to call me captain jus' like the rest o' the crew, savvy?"
"Er- savvy," Katerina nodded unsure what the word actually meant and looked at the captain. He didn't look away, but just kept looking at her. She didn't really know what he was looking for, but then thought of what it must be.
"Fine, captain," she said in a type of grumble. He nodded his head and turned his attention back to the sea, placing his weight on his elbows.
"'Ere it comes," his eyes focused on the far line and Katerina's gaze followed, "Show me tha' sunrise."
The sky burst with the bright colors of sunrise. The oranges, reds and pinks illuminated the sea with fire. Katerina couldn't help but stare in awe at the beauty of it all . . . it couldn't be described by mere, simple human speech.
"It is absolutely the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," she whispered still not daring to let her eyes wander from the sight, "And you get to see this every morning?"
"If the night before don' hit me hard," Jack smiled and looked at the woman, "Since we were talkin' on wha' to call each other . . . wha' do I call ye by?"
She thought a moment, unsure to tell this pirate her real name or not. Should she take the chance or give a fake? Her face contorted with though, unable to make the decision. Jack noticed the thinking process and knew all too well what she was trying to think of.
"Ye don' trust me," he said simply.
"Well, do you blame me?" she turned to him crossing her arms across her chest, "After saving me, you drag me straight to your ship. Then planning not to give me food unless I work . . . of course I don't trust you!"
"Wha' 'ave ye got to lose? I already know yer papa's rich."
"Uh . . ." she dropped her face and stare to the ground. He was right, he already knew that her family was rich, so what was the risk? Even so, she still didn't feel comfortable enough to give a pirate her real name.
"Um . . . Kat!" she popped her head up. It wasn't technically her real name, more like a nickname that could be taken from any name back on land. There was nearly no way Jack could figure out her name from this one syllable, "Call me Kat."
"Righ' then," he stood straight up and hit her on the back of her shoulder, "Kat, luv . . . welcome to the crew of the Black Pearl."
Kat let out a sigh, "I'm not part of the crew, captain."
"O' course ye are! Yer doing work on this ship, aren't ye?"
"Yes."
"Then as far as I am concerned ye are part o' the crew," he started to walk back up the stairs toward the wheel.
"Beautiful," Kat tried to blow some of her hair out of her face, "Now if I am ever asked if I did something with my life, I can say I have taken part in piracy and was a crewmember upon a pirate ship."
"Comin' luv?" Jack called down to her from the wheel.
"Must you keep calling me that? I just told you my name," her head popped into sight from the stairwell.
"Sorry, slip o' me tongue I guess," he smiled and chuckled to himself, "The rest o' the crew is getting up pretty soon. When they all start their work I'll set ye up with Anamaria. She'll teach ye the ropes."
"Wonderful," Kat pushed her hair back and successfully put her hair up in a ponytail that stayed even with the wind, "Just bloody wonderful."
***
The knocking on the door of the estate not only echoed through the whole house, but also through the head of Arthur Benikins. His hangover from the day before had just begun and he wasn't enjoying the unremitting knocking at the front door. He rolled over on his side and let his feet dangle right above the carpet on the floor. He held his head as the pounding just grew louder and louder until he couldn't stand it any longer.
"Will some one answer that bloody door?!" he yelled from his room.
A few seconds later the gentle voice of Dena could be heard saying greetings to a gentleman. The man's boots made about the same amount of horrible noise as the knocking. Arthur got out of his bed, put the closest robe on and walked over to the railing. Peering over he saw Captain Belstrude pacing back and forth waiting for Dena to go and fetch Mr. Benikins. He saw her coming up the stairs and signaled for her to go back down and make the captain comfortable. She nodded her head and gave the captain directions to the den.
Arthur looked at his reflection trying to make himself at least somewhat presentable to the dear captain. He flattened his hair on to his ever whitening head and search for his grey wig to cover whatever he missed or didn't want to fiddle with. As he brought the wig out of the drawer he was careful not to agitate his head any more then what he had to. The wig fit snuggly on his head and he started his decent down the stairs careful not to let the blurring images of the steps confuse his still swirling head. With some will and great difficulty he had finally managed to find his way down the stairs without help and into the den.
In one of the dark red armchairs Captain Belstrude was sitting patiently, waiting for the man to come from his room. He took off his tri-corner uniform hat and let his white powdered wig be bare to the eyes of the help. The strapping man was thirty years of age, nearly going on thirty-one in the upcoming winter months. The white wig covered his red hair that was nearly the same color of the childhood freckles that he still had to lose. Even with the red hair and the freckles on his face, the captain was a handsome and one of the most sought after men in the port and the surrounding cities. He stood nearly as tall as Mr. Benikins and showed it as he stood up from the chair to welcome Arthur Benikins through the archway and into the den.
"Mr. Benikins," he got up from the chair and help the elder man into one of the others, "Are you quite alright, sir?"
"I wouldn't know quite yet, captain," he held his head as he sat down and let the captain take his seat before he began, "What is your purpose for coming this late at night to come knocking on my doors?"
"I wasn't sure if you had heard, sir," he bowed his head, "I would think that you would have come by my office at least once to tell me the news face to face. I mean, with all things considered, sir, it is your daughter that is missing."
"I know," the captain raised his head, "I know that my daughter is missing."
"Then why did you not care to inform me?"
"I was actually on my way to inform you today, but I was side tracked and, wanted to bury my feelings in a cup, if you know what I mean," Arthur didn't even care to mention what feelings that he was burying.
Of course the captain took the feelings as sorrow and not of the joy of new property, "Yes, you must be terribly distraught."
"Yes- terribly," Arthur tried to find another subject to discuss to get the captain on his way, "If you don't mind Captain, I would like to get to sleep. My head is giving me quite a cursed headache."
"I just wanted to clarify something, sir," the captain stood up with Arthur, "And to give you a promise."
Arthur thought that he might as well try and listen, even if he would not remember what was said in the morning. He turned back toward the captain and waited for him to continue. He stood with the tri-corner hat fumbling in his hands, probably looking for the right words to say.
"Out with it then, Captain."
"I just wanted to say that the whole fleet is hot on the trail of any or all ships that traveled out of the port recently. There are only about four that we have not questioned or searched. We will find her."
"And what of your promise?"
"My promise, sir, is that I will look high and low for your daughter until my dying breath is drawn from my body. You know that I love your daughter more than anyone else on this island or possibly in the whole world. I have ever since I came here as a little boy when my father was captain. I will find her no matter what it takes and I will kill whatever pirate had taken her. I can only hope that the cad gives a fight, and then I wouldn't have to wait to bring him back here and watch him take that short drop from the platform. I could kill him right on the deck of the boat."
"I'm sure you will make quick work of him, Captain," Arthur turned away from him again and started up the stairs, "Dena, bring me a cold piece of cloth for my head after you show the captain to the door."
Dena nodded and took the captain by the arm and toward the door, "This way, sir."
"I know perfectly well where the door is. I do not need the directions from the help," he snatched his arm away from her and ran to the bottom of the stairs, "I will find her again, Mr. Benikins, you have my sworn word."
"Very good, Captain," Arthur waved his hand at him sounding very annoyed, "And I thank you for it. I would gladly give you her hand in marriage as soon as you find her. Just as we had promised before she ran."
The captain smiled, glad that he had finally gotten through to the old man, and had the agreement in verbal tongue and with a witness to testify if need be; even if the witness was only the help.
"Thank you, sir," he bowed and left the estate, briskly walking down the steps and out to his horse to make it back to the fort before the afternoon.
Dena looked at the captain and then wondered what was best for Katerina. To be lost at sea or to be brought back and marry someone she did not love at all? To be forced to live the rest of her life with some one who didn't seem to love her back as he didn't even have the decency to ask her for her hand first . . . what kind of life would she lead then?
"Dena! Where is that cold cloth I asked for?" Mr. Benikins yelled from his room.
"Coming sir," she ran into the kitchen to place a cloth under the cold water and rushed it in to her master.
Once coming out of the room she looked out the window and toward the sunrise, 'Katerina . . . keep running. Find a better home than the one you left behind.' She smoothed out her dress and attended to the early morning chores yet to be done before the mid-afternoon.