Her head was spinning madly, careening about wild and crazy curves while
her mind danced blunderingly, tripping and stumbling...
She trembled. With an effort, she opened her eyes.
Bound hand and foot, she was on her back on the floor of some sort of rocking room. Straining to sit up without the support of her limbs, she finally managed to do so. Feeling horribly vulnerable, she wondered for a split-second where on earth she could be when she remembered, with a sudden wave of horror and nausea.
She was a captive on a dreaded pirate ship, captained by a dangerous fugitive and crewed by awful women and men without tongues. She should never have gone into the dirtier section of the docks! She would be kept here forever, probably as a menial oarslave. Wretchedly she wondered what other poor souls had suffered the same fate as she.
Her stubborn mind pointed out an obvious fact. If she was going to be an oarslave, than why had she been taken to - her eyes careened around the room. It was rather dingy, with a thin pallet and a few shelves, nothing much of interest. Finishing the thought: why had she been taken to the room of a sailor? Maybe he was going to come and whip her, she thought dully.
She knew not how long she huddled there in the corner, bound hand and foot, quivering with rage, fear, and sickness - but the tears that might have been welling up in the eyes of another girl were gone, for all her naïveté she was obstinately holding out, refusing to let the horrid pirates break her down into little pieces that they could toy with, with their dirty hands.
Suddenly it struck her. They must have known that she was the commodore's daughter! They had kidnapped her for the ransom that she was sure that her father would pay. Suddenly confident with this ray of hope fueling her movements, she leaned against the wall and dozed off.
She was awakened hours later when the door banged open, admitting a horrible-looking pirate. Flattening herself even more against the wall -not an easy task- and trying to be unobtrusive, she watched him, terrified.
He sort of strutted in, his long dark hair bound loosely about with a red cloth, his caustic eyebrows and kohl-lined eyes the picture of insolence. She recognized him at once - the face plastered on posters that she'd fallen for unconsciously- all the men that she knew wore disgusting white wigs and face powder, and next to that, this man had au natural good looks.
She tensed. What was she thinking? He was a scoundrel, a pirate, and the men that she knew, however powdered, where good, honest, noble men.
"So, lass, I can see that you recognize me." The pirate's drawl interrupted her thoughts and she looked up sharply.
"That I do," she said bravely, trying to hide the fear that was gnawing at her. "Jack Sparrow, wanted for treason, impersonating a cleric, stealing -"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he corrected her.
"I'm no love of yours," she hissed.
"Well, then what be your name?" His face was contorted in a sarcastic expression, devilish eyes taunting her.
She hated those eyes just for looking at her, that face just for mocking her. "Megaera Alix Kentsworth," she answered proudly, and then shock overtook her at realization of what she'd said. If they hadn't known that she was the commodore's daughter, then why could they have taken her?
Well, now they knew, she thought, as the pirate captain mused aloud, "Commodore's daughter, eh?"
"What does it matter to you?" she snapped.
His dark eyes were grave as they met her scornful gaze. "In different circumstances it would matter a great deal to me, but there's nothing I can do about it now."
She was shocked beyond belief. "You -you mean you aren't taking me back?"
All she needed as an answer was the pirate's dark look before he changed the subject. Obviously he wasn't too happy about it either.
"Megaera?" he inquired. "What sort o' name is that?"
"Megaera is one of the three Furies, the winged avengers, in Greek mythology," she said, hating him above all for prodding about her name, which she hated as well. "My mother. died in childbirth with me and. my father never forgave me. But," she added brightly, "at least I'm not named Tisiphone or Alecto."
"What kind of father." Jack muttered, before shaking himself out as a dog might and listening once more. "Tisiphone and Alecto?" he asked disbelievingly as soon as Megaera Alix finished
"The other two Furies," she explained.
"Ah, well aye." Jack gestured toward the door, a sort of mocking politeness cloaking his movements. "Ladies first, then?"
She lifted her skirts and sailed past him, only stopping uncertainly when she remembered that she knew not where to go.
"Lost, then, are we?" asked Jack mildly, slipping past her and leading the way out into the darkened hallway, up a flight of stairs and into a larger cabin. They seated themselves at a low table, Jack propping his elbows on the tabletop and grinning slightly, Megaera Alix shifting uncomfortably and fidgeting with her cloak.
"So, Miss Kentsworth," said Captain Jack Sparrow. "You -"
"Call me Meg," she said bluntly. "In a place of such squalor, mentioning fine names will only spoil them."
"Indeed?" Jack raised his eyebrows and toyed his mouth downwards, shifting in his chair and allowing his hands to move in expressive semi-circles. He grinned at her, and she blanched. She knew that he had realized that she hated her full name.
"Meg," she said firmly.
"Aye, Meg," rejoined the pirate captain, pulling her name through far more seconds than it deserved or actually needed. "Well, seems you'll be livin' with me for a while."
Meg needed a few moments before she could collect herself. "How did I get. here?" she spat, trying to look as unattractive as possible. The laundry girl's words were flashing more vividly through her head then they ever had before.
"Mr. Cotton, crazy old man, plucked ye off the docks, brought ye here, but y'see he's mute so it took a little while to figure it all out. During that little time, you woke up, saw entirely too much, and now you've got to stay, savvy?"
Meg was horrified. "I promise I won't tell if you just take me back -"
"It's a bit too late for that, lass," rejoined Jack, with a slight grin.
"What do you mean." Meg knew, although she didn't want to. Whirling out of the cabin (and getting the very small satisfaction of slamming the door on the pirate's grinning face), she shot up the stairway of the Black Pearl and came out on deck.
The turquoise seas of the Caribbean had closed in about the black-sailed ship, the tropical winds were fueling those very sails and by the look of it had been doing it for a very long time now. The sun was low in the sky, almost out of sight, and the isle of Barbados was gone.
She trembled. With an effort, she opened her eyes.
Bound hand and foot, she was on her back on the floor of some sort of rocking room. Straining to sit up without the support of her limbs, she finally managed to do so. Feeling horribly vulnerable, she wondered for a split-second where on earth she could be when she remembered, with a sudden wave of horror and nausea.
She was a captive on a dreaded pirate ship, captained by a dangerous fugitive and crewed by awful women and men without tongues. She should never have gone into the dirtier section of the docks! She would be kept here forever, probably as a menial oarslave. Wretchedly she wondered what other poor souls had suffered the same fate as she.
Her stubborn mind pointed out an obvious fact. If she was going to be an oarslave, than why had she been taken to - her eyes careened around the room. It was rather dingy, with a thin pallet and a few shelves, nothing much of interest. Finishing the thought: why had she been taken to the room of a sailor? Maybe he was going to come and whip her, she thought dully.
She knew not how long she huddled there in the corner, bound hand and foot, quivering with rage, fear, and sickness - but the tears that might have been welling up in the eyes of another girl were gone, for all her naïveté she was obstinately holding out, refusing to let the horrid pirates break her down into little pieces that they could toy with, with their dirty hands.
Suddenly it struck her. They must have known that she was the commodore's daughter! They had kidnapped her for the ransom that she was sure that her father would pay. Suddenly confident with this ray of hope fueling her movements, she leaned against the wall and dozed off.
She was awakened hours later when the door banged open, admitting a horrible-looking pirate. Flattening herself even more against the wall -not an easy task- and trying to be unobtrusive, she watched him, terrified.
He sort of strutted in, his long dark hair bound loosely about with a red cloth, his caustic eyebrows and kohl-lined eyes the picture of insolence. She recognized him at once - the face plastered on posters that she'd fallen for unconsciously- all the men that she knew wore disgusting white wigs and face powder, and next to that, this man had au natural good looks.
She tensed. What was she thinking? He was a scoundrel, a pirate, and the men that she knew, however powdered, where good, honest, noble men.
"So, lass, I can see that you recognize me." The pirate's drawl interrupted her thoughts and she looked up sharply.
"That I do," she said bravely, trying to hide the fear that was gnawing at her. "Jack Sparrow, wanted for treason, impersonating a cleric, stealing -"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he corrected her.
"I'm no love of yours," she hissed.
"Well, then what be your name?" His face was contorted in a sarcastic expression, devilish eyes taunting her.
She hated those eyes just for looking at her, that face just for mocking her. "Megaera Alix Kentsworth," she answered proudly, and then shock overtook her at realization of what she'd said. If they hadn't known that she was the commodore's daughter, then why could they have taken her?
Well, now they knew, she thought, as the pirate captain mused aloud, "Commodore's daughter, eh?"
"What does it matter to you?" she snapped.
His dark eyes were grave as they met her scornful gaze. "In different circumstances it would matter a great deal to me, but there's nothing I can do about it now."
She was shocked beyond belief. "You -you mean you aren't taking me back?"
All she needed as an answer was the pirate's dark look before he changed the subject. Obviously he wasn't too happy about it either.
"Megaera?" he inquired. "What sort o' name is that?"
"Megaera is one of the three Furies, the winged avengers, in Greek mythology," she said, hating him above all for prodding about her name, which she hated as well. "My mother. died in childbirth with me and. my father never forgave me. But," she added brightly, "at least I'm not named Tisiphone or Alecto."
"What kind of father." Jack muttered, before shaking himself out as a dog might and listening once more. "Tisiphone and Alecto?" he asked disbelievingly as soon as Megaera Alix finished
"The other two Furies," she explained.
"Ah, well aye." Jack gestured toward the door, a sort of mocking politeness cloaking his movements. "Ladies first, then?"
She lifted her skirts and sailed past him, only stopping uncertainly when she remembered that she knew not where to go.
"Lost, then, are we?" asked Jack mildly, slipping past her and leading the way out into the darkened hallway, up a flight of stairs and into a larger cabin. They seated themselves at a low table, Jack propping his elbows on the tabletop and grinning slightly, Megaera Alix shifting uncomfortably and fidgeting with her cloak.
"So, Miss Kentsworth," said Captain Jack Sparrow. "You -"
"Call me Meg," she said bluntly. "In a place of such squalor, mentioning fine names will only spoil them."
"Indeed?" Jack raised his eyebrows and toyed his mouth downwards, shifting in his chair and allowing his hands to move in expressive semi-circles. He grinned at her, and she blanched. She knew that he had realized that she hated her full name.
"Meg," she said firmly.
"Aye, Meg," rejoined the pirate captain, pulling her name through far more seconds than it deserved or actually needed. "Well, seems you'll be livin' with me for a while."
Meg needed a few moments before she could collect herself. "How did I get. here?" she spat, trying to look as unattractive as possible. The laundry girl's words were flashing more vividly through her head then they ever had before.
"Mr. Cotton, crazy old man, plucked ye off the docks, brought ye here, but y'see he's mute so it took a little while to figure it all out. During that little time, you woke up, saw entirely too much, and now you've got to stay, savvy?"
Meg was horrified. "I promise I won't tell if you just take me back -"
"It's a bit too late for that, lass," rejoined Jack, with a slight grin.
"What do you mean." Meg knew, although she didn't want to. Whirling out of the cabin (and getting the very small satisfaction of slamming the door on the pirate's grinning face), she shot up the stairway of the Black Pearl and came out on deck.
The turquoise seas of the Caribbean had closed in about the black-sailed ship, the tropical winds were fueling those very sails and by the look of it had been doing it for a very long time now. The sun was low in the sky, almost out of sight, and the isle of Barbados was gone.