Disclaimer: I'm not a REAL pirate! I do not own and am not stealing
"Pirates of the Caribbean". Don't make me dance the hempen jig!
A/N: Well here it is, the second chapter to my little story. I think it's a tad longer than the first chapter, so go have a ball!
BTW-I would like to give a big, BIG thank you to Empress SLOR who is my very first reviewer ever! I will start (or at least try) writing replies to all of my reviews after each chapter. There's one waiting for you Empress SLOR!!
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It was approximately eight months and three weeks since the day Rhiannon had received her letter from Commodore Norrington. She had sailed for months over the Atlantic Ocean and had overcome the worst of her bouts of sea-sickness weeks ago, managing to acquire some sea legs on the way. Once in the Caribbean, Rhiannon's ship had made its way to Nassau in the Bahamas, where she would get off of the passenger ship and meet up with her father. Once on her father's ship, she would have about five more days of sailing and she would then arrive in Port Royal, where she would be confronting her future husband for the first time.
"How 'mail-order-bride' this whole affair is." mumbled Rhiannon with a hushed voice dripping with sarcasm. She sat with her legs curled under her on a large coil of rope on the quarterdeck of the Welsh Green Dragon. She had a moderately interesting book about the earlier history of the Caribbean Islands lying forgotten in her lap as she mused. Rhiannon figured that if she were going to live here, she might as well know a little about its past.
"What was that you said Rhia-darling?" Her father, Brynn Bathoe, stood at the helm, steering the great merchant ship, the Welsh Green Dragon. His face was turned towards the sky and his brow was furrowed in concern. The clouds had begun to darken ominously and the air seemed to crackle.
Rhiannon's hair had begun to lift about her head with static electricity coursing down the strands of it and suddenly, a gust of wind picked up and blew the pages of her book.
"Drat! Blast that retched wind! I've lost my place," Rhiannon flipped through the pages looking for the paragraph about the exports that made Haiti as prosperous as it was. Just as she found it, one of the crewmen came up and grabbed the coil of rope out from under her and ran off with it in a hurry. She was toppled over and got tangled in her voluminous skirts as she attempted to sit herself back up. "Ooof," she brushed some of the red curls back from her face and finally managed to regain her sitting position.
"Rhia, dear, I think it would be best if you went below now. There is a storm brewing and I would feel better if I knew you were safely tucked away below deck with your book, instead of up here in that storm," her father gave her an apologetic smile before glancing nervously in the direction of the gathering thunder clouds and darkening sky, motioning for her to come and give him a hug and kiss on his proffered cheek.. She stood up and was embraced in his strong arms, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on his rough cheek, the hairs of his mustache tickling her nose. Then she turned and went down to the main deck. Before turning and making for the door that led down to the part of the ship containing the captain's quarters, guest quarters, store rooms, and the kitchen, Rhiannon looked up at the sky and saw that indeed, a storm seemed to be coming their way-fast. The sight instilled a little bubble of fright in the pit of her stomach, but she shook it off. Her father and the crew would have no trouble manning the ship through the storm; Rhiannon was confident they must have done it countless times. Her father just didn't want her in the way of the crew and so asked that she go below and entertain herself there.
It's not as if I would be much help up here anyhow..Rhiannon thought to herself, I would probably find myself overboard, swimming with the fishes..
The wind now tore at her hair and skirt, as if giant hands were grabbing at it in attempts to rip it off. The fierceness of the gale was making it difficult for her to open the door, but she was thankfully aided by the First Mate Jenkins as he made his way out.
"Best be getting' b'low, Miss Rhiannon, the one looks like 'twill be fierce," his deep voice rumbled in her ear. Rhiannon nodded and then waved before making her way inside and slamming the door shut behind her. Inside all was calm, except for the exaggerated rocking of the boat, causing Rhiannon to stumble her way to her cabin. Once there she took out her book again.
...The major crops of most Caribbean islands are sugar cane, tropical fruits, and rum (particularly in the Dominican Republic)...Rhiannon's mind was wandering from the dry text sitting in her lap. Giving up on her aspiration to read, she stood up and went to the window. On the other side of the bubbly glass that was now being pelted with rain, she could see steel-blue waves rising and falling higher than she had ever seen and the sky was black with laden clouds. The falling rain drops were blown about in different directions, making it hard to see much more.
The room was now getting dim, so she lit a candle and set the candelabra on the small table beside her cot. She sat twiddling her thumbs for a few moments before deciding to try mending the pair of stockings she had snagged on some metal peg up on deck. She had no idea what the metal peg was for, but she did know that it had ripped her stocking and she must do what should could to fix it. She hated darning stockings or mending anything, she would much rather just go without them if she had a choice, but there was no one here to badger her into it, so she had to badger herself if she wanted to get the job done.
It certainly would not do to be introduced to Mr. Norrington in a pair of stockings full of runs and rips, that's for sure. I'm positive that would flip a couple of wigs as well as provide mother with the heart attack she is always saying I am going to give her. She giggled at the mental image of all the curly wigs flipping and doing somersaults over the heads of her reception party and women fainting and gasping as she stepped off the gangplank, lifting her skirts so as not to trip, and revealing a scandalously torn pair of stockings. She mimicked how her mother would act in such a situation, swooning with a hand to her forehead, "Mothers, hide your children! The easily squeamish hide your eyes! Rhiannon is coming..and her stocking are torn!!" Rhiannon snorted, wondering how it was she found it so easy to amuse herself.
Settling herself in the one chair in the small cabin, she set the damaged stocking on her lap and took out a needle and some thread from her small reticule. She was almost done mending the delicate silk stocking, when the ship rocked mightily and her chair overturned, spilling her out as it went. As she landed, her finger was pierced with the small needle and she gave a small shriek and began to suck on the injured digit.
"Second time today my seat has decided to throw me out of it," grumbled Rhiannon to herself as she tried to set the chair back upright with one hand while the other (the one with the pricked finger) was still being sucked on. Just as she had set it up right once again, she heard what sounded like many people's boots landing on deck at once and a very loud bellow of what sounded to be "Give no quarter!"
What can be going on up there to be making such a racket, she mused to herself, Give no quarter, what is that supposed to mean? I must have heard wrong or something.Deciding it might be a good idea to peek out her door and see that everything was alright, or as alright as it could be in a storm, Rhiannon stuffed her mending supplies into one of her hat boxes. Maybe the cook would like some help in the kitchen, it must be quite difficult to prepare a decent meal while the ship tossed about so.
Glad to find an excuse to stop her sewing, she went to the door. She opened it and stuck her head out, then swiftly brought it back in and closed the door with a slam. She winced at the loud sound that seemed to echo for far too long, and then locked the door before sliding down to the floor and looking under the crack at the bottom, watching for feet.
The reason for all this peculiar behavior was that Rhiannon had thought she had seen two men disappearing around the corner in the hallway. Sure it could have been two members of the crew, but she hadn't been able to recognize them and their dress was funny, all raggedy and torn beyond repair. This struck her as odd, seeing as how most of the crew dressed in the normal attire for a sailor: simple shirts with wide collars and three- quarter length sleeves, knee-length pants and stripped socks, some with bandanas tied about their necks. It couldn't be her father, for he wore what most liked to call longs clothes; knee-length pants and white stockings, a crisp white shirt with belled sleeves and lace cuffs, a waist coat and a long coat with tails. So who could these two be? These men in dirty garb that was years out of style with scarves and weapons hanging all over them and a foreboding air in their wakes.
A though struck Rhiannon: maybe they were stowaways! That would explain the state of their clothes as well as their lurking about the ship as they were. Deciding she should do what she could to stop them, she opened the door quietly and made her way after them on silent feet. She had to hike up her skirts above the floor so that they did not rustle about when she moved and when she made it to the turn in the hallway; she stopped and poked her head cautiously around the corner. There was no one there, she had wasted too much time hiding behind the door and had lost them. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment and her brow furrowed, pondering where they could have gone.
Letting her guard down she began to think of all the possible places they could be. They can't have gone up on deck because they surely must have known that someone would see them and then they would be in trouble, so they must have gone into one of the rooms. There is the kitchen and Papa's room...Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and her arms were wrenched behind her back. A large, rough and calloused hand was slapped over her mouth before she could scream out.
Oh no, I'm such a dullard! I let my mind get away with me and forgot to look out for the stowaways and now they've got me!
A hempen rope was wrapped around her wrists and some sort of cloth covered her eyes and was tied tightly behind her head. Some of the hair got caught in the knot and the sting as they were ripped out made her eyes water. She struggled against the restraints, but to no avail, her weak attempts proved nothing for the strong arms that held her and the rope that bound her. She started to scream and yell against his hand, her usually pale face turning red with the effort. He took his hand away and she bit it.
He made some inarticulate noise of pain and then her head was jerked back by her hair, exposing her white neck. Something icy-cold and sharp was brought to the exposed flesh of her neck, pricking her soft skin.
"Shiver me timbers, this one's got teeth Monty," he must have been addressing the other of the two she had seen, "Now missy, I wouldn' be doin' that again if I was ye," and with that she was steered to the stairs. One of them must have climbed up before her and she was handed up to him like a sack of potatoes. He yanked her to the deck and deposited her at his feet, waiting for his mate to make his way up. She was jerked to her feet and the knife replaced. It was raining and she was soon soaked through and shivering.
Rhiannon was guided farther out on deck and then stopped abruptly when her captor halted her progress by grabbing her tied hands. This twisted her arms even more and she yelped at the sudden pain in her shoulders. The two men that had caught her chuckled brusquely at this.
There was noise all about her and she couldn't sort out any of it, her brain addled with all that had happened so far. She heard loud, heavy footsteps, yelling, clashing metal like that of swords being brought together in battle, gun shots, canon booms and above all the pounding of the waves on the hulls of the ship and the rain pelting the deck wood and the canvas of the sails.
What is going on! It sounds like we're being attacked! Oh no, where is Papa!? Rhiannon could hear her heart beat frantically in her temples and her ears rang.
"Stay with 'er Anders, I'll go get the Cap'n," and then the one she thought to be Monty walked off.
The Captain? They can't mean Papa. He certainly won't be happy when he sees what they have done to me. What exactly is Papa doing associating with blokes like these? What is going on!?
A few minutes later she heard footsteps approaching and then the blindfold was torn from her head. She grimaced as the hairs caught in the blindfold's knot were pulled and broke. She kept her eyes closed; afraid of what she would see when she opened them.
"Open yer eyes, love," said a new voice. She slowly and tentatively opened first one eye, then the other. Rhiannon's dark blue eyes met dark, kohl lined orbs in a tanned and grimy face with a mustache and a goatee that was braided into two tails. The face was surrounded by a mass of dark hair braided, beaded, and be dangled. Dreadlocks were held back by a worn, red bandana under a yet, even more worn leather hat. She was startled, expecting to see her father. This man was definitely not her father, and she was scared to find out who it was.
"D'ya know who I am, lass?" He asked this of her gently and all Rhiannon could do was blink with a blank expression on her face. "I'm the Captain Jack Sparrow, at yer service, m'lady," he bowed mockingly to her- proof that he was not intending to be gentlemanly when he referred to her so. He was a pirate, and not just that, he was the most dreaded pirate in the Spanish Main. Even a sheltered girl who had grown up in England knew or had at least heard some of the stories told of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, especially this past year. There had been some interesting gossip floating around London that Season about some fiasco between the Black Pearl and its cursed crew of hellish marauders and the British Navy of Port Royal. The governer's daughter had gotten herself mixed up in the middle of it all and Captain Jack Sparrow had been the ringleader. Her eyes widened with fear, realizing now that she was in even more trouble than she has previously thought, but said nothing.
Jack Sparrow was not a thick dullard as some might think (and he let them think that mind you), but rather quite clever and knew that she recognized the name at least-he saw it in the way her beautiful eyes had widened and a shiver had coursed through her body-but it slightly angered him that she would not at least acknowledge him, nor offer her own name in return. He looked at her more closely, his eyes looking straight into her own and narrowing slightly, as if contemplating the right course to take while looking at an old and faded map that was hard to decipher.
When his face had been brought closer to hers, Rhiannon held her breath, and when his eyes had looked deep into her own she became very unnerved beneath his intense gaze. She squirmed in discomfort, wishing she were far away from him, as well as his motley crew-perhaps back in her cabin, unawares of what all had been going on up here.
Oh why did I have to leave the cabin!? Why couldn't I have been the sensible one and stayed where I was told?
She stopped her self-induced chastising when he spoke to her.
"Now love, wouldn't ye like t' know where yer father might be?" he casually tugged on the braids at his chin while he waited for her response, maybe a 'yes sir' or pleading, or something more than the tiny, almost nonexistent nod that he did receive. This grated on his nerves further and he motioned brusquely. A slumped and bound form was thrown to the deck in front of Rhiannon's feet.
A sob escaped her, to see her father brought to such disgrace. She went to kneel next to him so that he could tell her everything was going to be all right and that this was all just some joke they were all playing on her, but there was a pincer-like grip around her upper arm and she could not take even one step nearer to him. She was forced to stand, looking down on the bent and once-proud merchant that was her father.
"Girl, this be yer father, the richest and most successful merchant 'n the Spanish Main-say goodbye, ye wont be seein' him for a long while," and with that her father was wrestled off the ground and manhandled over to the starboard side of the ship, now silhouetted against the dark nighttime sky and the full moon. One of the men pulled out the plank. To Rhiannon it was like watching a seaman's version of a hanging. The dastardly pirate- captain, Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl was going to force a daughter to watch her father walk the plank and drown. Then she would be alone, at the mercy of the pirates to do with her what they will; Rhiannon shuddered at the thought.
Jack propelled, still with the vice-like hold on her arm over to where they were chaining a cannonball to her father's ankle. Her eyes were getting misty-but she would not let a single tear fall. Rhiannon Bathoe would not give in and let this band of brutes and their behemoth captain witness a weakness from her. I will not cry for them, she vowed to herself.
"Any last parting words ye would like t'say t'yer father before he joins Davie Jones in his underwater locker?" Jack asked her.
She glared daggers at the odious man-her fright was slowly giving way to rage. She was infuriated, furious that she could not control the situation. Striving to struggle out of his fixed grip on her arm, she stomped on his toe.
"Eh now, love! That wasn' very nice, how would you like it if I did that t' ye?" he eyed her with a smirk on his face and she feared for a moment that he really would repay her with a stamp on her foot, or worse.
Jack noticed that there was a fierceness beginning to grow in her midnight- colored eyes and that her cheeks were flushed. He, in a way, like the effect her anger was having on her. It would definitely make things more interesting dealing with this feisty vixen.
"Let me go to my father Captain Sparrow," her voice was almost caustic with acrimony. He may be a pirate, but he still had an ounce of decency in him (when he felt like it), so he let her go to him-if only to say farewell. As soon as her released his hold on her, she shot from his arms and went to her father.
"I'll not say goodbye, Papa," Jacks keen ears picked up the whispered message. He watched as her father brought both of his bound hands up to brush across her face with his knuckles and to sweep a curl away behind her ear. They were both kneeling on their knees and he leaned over and gently kissed her forehead, as he did so her eyes were closed as were his and for a second they were at peace. Simultaneously they opened their eyes again and Rhiannon leaned forward and snuggled her head into the base of his neck, digging her nose into his collar so as to smell the sent of him, like pipe smoke and the briny sea-and always remember it. Her father managed to slip something off of his right index finger and he dropped it into her dress pocket. "Rhia, sweetheart, I'm sorry we didn't have much time to spend together. I am very glad I did get to see you though, you have grown into a fine young woman," his eyes took on a wistful expression as he studied her face, "Keep my ring near your heart and I will always be with you. I love you, Rhiannon, always remember that."
"I love you too Papa," Rhiannon's voice cracked and she choked on the words.
Some of the softer hearted crew members, such as the cook and the others who had loving families of their own, could be seen with stricken looks of utter sorrow, pity, or even tears on their faces. Many others had the blank expressions of those that either didn't care, or were immune to such profound emotion. Jack felt as if he were spectacle to something that he ought not to be, and decided they had had long enough.
He motioned for his first mate to hoist her father up to his feet and he grabbed her by the back of her dress (catching some of her hair as well) and dragged her to her wobbly feet. She yelped softly in pain when some hairs snapped but otherwise remained silent, her moist eyes were fixated only on her dear father.
Her father, Brynn Bathoe, was made to step up onto the short walk to his death. Someone had to help him with the canon ball, seeing as how it was dragging his foot down. They cut the bindings that tied his wrists together and handed the weight of his life into his arms.
Rhiannon felt a lump in her throat and swallowed noisily, her breathing coming short. She watched as he walked (carrying the heavy sphere of metal in his tired arms) out halfway and turned back towards everyone.
He shifted the canon ball into one arm and blew her a kiss before saluting Jack Sparrow. Then he turned swiftly and nimbly on his heel and ran the last few feet and jumped. Seconds later they heard a loud splash and that was the end of that.
It took a few moments for it all to sink in for Rhiannon, but when it did she crumbled to the floor and found herself sitting with her skirts an island about her; her head was bowed and her still-bound arms ached at the shoulder. Suddenly she raised her face to the sky and shook back her locks.
"Mama, Papa.don't leave me, don't leave me here alone," her voice was hushed and rasping as she held back the torment of tears threatening to bring about another rainstorm. Her ashen face was illuminated with the moonlight and full of anguish. Jack had to admit to himself while watching her face of pain-personified, that she was beautiful and was so filled to brimming with emotion that it stunned him.
After the merchant Bathoe had plunged to his ending, most of the crew lost interest and had made their way back to the Pearl. Some lingered and he sent them below to gather the girl's things and to loot anything of any value and take it back to his own ship. He also ordered a few men to start drenching everything in kerosene and to light what would burn fastest. It had stopped raining, so the fire was sure to catch.
Once they were gone and the fires were beginning to rage behind him, he gathered the unresponsive bundle of girl into his arms and carried her over to the rail. He wrapped a thick rope a few times around one of his wrists, shifted her in his arms so that he held her tightly by her slender waist, and swung himself and his burden over to his ebony-colored ship deck. Once there he motioned for a crew member to approach him.
"Take her b'low-down to the bilge, lock her in one o'them birdcages down there an' return the key t'me aft' wards."
He would be seeing to her later, but for now he needed to prepare everyone to commence their voyage over the choppy waters.
"Alright ye scurvy dogs, we've got places t' be, ships t' plunder, gold t' steal!!" At the sound of his bellowing order, everyone immediately commenced to scurrying about and doing their jobs. Captain Sparrow made his way towards the helm and stopped at the beckoning of his first mate.
"What are we gonna do about the Dragon Cap'n?" he inquired and pointed towards Bathoe's green sailed ship.
"Scuttle it," was all Jack said and immediately the cannons were loaded.
"Aye, Cap'n," Gibbs, the first mate nodded his head of gray hair and turned to shout directions to the rest of the crew, "Come about! Ready the cannons mates!"
All at once, nine black spheres sped through the air and blew gaping black holes in the green sailed sea craft. Immediately a fire ignited and the ship began to tip to one side as water escaped inside through the openings. There was no one there to neither bail it out, nor extinguish the flames and quite soon it was consumed by fire and water simultaneously.
Below deck, peering through the same hole that the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow had looked through no more than half a year ago, Rhiannon watched as her father's pride and joy disappeared beneath the waves. Soon all that she could see was the flaming Union Jack that used to fly proudly at the top of the tallest mast sink below the surface of the undulating waters. It steamed as the flames charring its edges were finally put out. Then it was gone, now home to the fish as well as the dead bodies of its honest and hardworking crew. Rhiannon had to look away.
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A/N: Just a few little tid-bits. If anyone was wondering how to pronounce 'Bathoe"-Rhiannon's last name, its Ba-(as in the British pronunciation of 'can') and thoy-(rhymes with 'boy'). It's a common Welsh surname. Also, I'll try and have the next chapter posted tomorrow; all depends on how much homework my slave drivers-I mean teachers, decide to dump on me.
Empress SLOR: Thank You so much!! This was my first fic and I was really expecting the flames to come rolling in. You get a golden star for being my first reviewer! *sticks little golden star-sticker on your forehead* p.s. oh poo! I'm sure your fics are simply loverly!
A/N: Well here it is, the second chapter to my little story. I think it's a tad longer than the first chapter, so go have a ball!
BTW-I would like to give a big, BIG thank you to Empress SLOR who is my very first reviewer ever! I will start (or at least try) writing replies to all of my reviews after each chapter. There's one waiting for you Empress SLOR!!
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It was approximately eight months and three weeks since the day Rhiannon had received her letter from Commodore Norrington. She had sailed for months over the Atlantic Ocean and had overcome the worst of her bouts of sea-sickness weeks ago, managing to acquire some sea legs on the way. Once in the Caribbean, Rhiannon's ship had made its way to Nassau in the Bahamas, where she would get off of the passenger ship and meet up with her father. Once on her father's ship, she would have about five more days of sailing and she would then arrive in Port Royal, where she would be confronting her future husband for the first time.
"How 'mail-order-bride' this whole affair is." mumbled Rhiannon with a hushed voice dripping with sarcasm. She sat with her legs curled under her on a large coil of rope on the quarterdeck of the Welsh Green Dragon. She had a moderately interesting book about the earlier history of the Caribbean Islands lying forgotten in her lap as she mused. Rhiannon figured that if she were going to live here, she might as well know a little about its past.
"What was that you said Rhia-darling?" Her father, Brynn Bathoe, stood at the helm, steering the great merchant ship, the Welsh Green Dragon. His face was turned towards the sky and his brow was furrowed in concern. The clouds had begun to darken ominously and the air seemed to crackle.
Rhiannon's hair had begun to lift about her head with static electricity coursing down the strands of it and suddenly, a gust of wind picked up and blew the pages of her book.
"Drat! Blast that retched wind! I've lost my place," Rhiannon flipped through the pages looking for the paragraph about the exports that made Haiti as prosperous as it was. Just as she found it, one of the crewmen came up and grabbed the coil of rope out from under her and ran off with it in a hurry. She was toppled over and got tangled in her voluminous skirts as she attempted to sit herself back up. "Ooof," she brushed some of the red curls back from her face and finally managed to regain her sitting position.
"Rhia, dear, I think it would be best if you went below now. There is a storm brewing and I would feel better if I knew you were safely tucked away below deck with your book, instead of up here in that storm," her father gave her an apologetic smile before glancing nervously in the direction of the gathering thunder clouds and darkening sky, motioning for her to come and give him a hug and kiss on his proffered cheek.. She stood up and was embraced in his strong arms, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on his rough cheek, the hairs of his mustache tickling her nose. Then she turned and went down to the main deck. Before turning and making for the door that led down to the part of the ship containing the captain's quarters, guest quarters, store rooms, and the kitchen, Rhiannon looked up at the sky and saw that indeed, a storm seemed to be coming their way-fast. The sight instilled a little bubble of fright in the pit of her stomach, but she shook it off. Her father and the crew would have no trouble manning the ship through the storm; Rhiannon was confident they must have done it countless times. Her father just didn't want her in the way of the crew and so asked that she go below and entertain herself there.
It's not as if I would be much help up here anyhow..Rhiannon thought to herself, I would probably find myself overboard, swimming with the fishes..
The wind now tore at her hair and skirt, as if giant hands were grabbing at it in attempts to rip it off. The fierceness of the gale was making it difficult for her to open the door, but she was thankfully aided by the First Mate Jenkins as he made his way out.
"Best be getting' b'low, Miss Rhiannon, the one looks like 'twill be fierce," his deep voice rumbled in her ear. Rhiannon nodded and then waved before making her way inside and slamming the door shut behind her. Inside all was calm, except for the exaggerated rocking of the boat, causing Rhiannon to stumble her way to her cabin. Once there she took out her book again.
...The major crops of most Caribbean islands are sugar cane, tropical fruits, and rum (particularly in the Dominican Republic)...Rhiannon's mind was wandering from the dry text sitting in her lap. Giving up on her aspiration to read, she stood up and went to the window. On the other side of the bubbly glass that was now being pelted with rain, she could see steel-blue waves rising and falling higher than she had ever seen and the sky was black with laden clouds. The falling rain drops were blown about in different directions, making it hard to see much more.
The room was now getting dim, so she lit a candle and set the candelabra on the small table beside her cot. She sat twiddling her thumbs for a few moments before deciding to try mending the pair of stockings she had snagged on some metal peg up on deck. She had no idea what the metal peg was for, but she did know that it had ripped her stocking and she must do what should could to fix it. She hated darning stockings or mending anything, she would much rather just go without them if she had a choice, but there was no one here to badger her into it, so she had to badger herself if she wanted to get the job done.
It certainly would not do to be introduced to Mr. Norrington in a pair of stockings full of runs and rips, that's for sure. I'm positive that would flip a couple of wigs as well as provide mother with the heart attack she is always saying I am going to give her. She giggled at the mental image of all the curly wigs flipping and doing somersaults over the heads of her reception party and women fainting and gasping as she stepped off the gangplank, lifting her skirts so as not to trip, and revealing a scandalously torn pair of stockings. She mimicked how her mother would act in such a situation, swooning with a hand to her forehead, "Mothers, hide your children! The easily squeamish hide your eyes! Rhiannon is coming..and her stocking are torn!!" Rhiannon snorted, wondering how it was she found it so easy to amuse herself.
Settling herself in the one chair in the small cabin, she set the damaged stocking on her lap and took out a needle and some thread from her small reticule. She was almost done mending the delicate silk stocking, when the ship rocked mightily and her chair overturned, spilling her out as it went. As she landed, her finger was pierced with the small needle and she gave a small shriek and began to suck on the injured digit.
"Second time today my seat has decided to throw me out of it," grumbled Rhiannon to herself as she tried to set the chair back upright with one hand while the other (the one with the pricked finger) was still being sucked on. Just as she had set it up right once again, she heard what sounded like many people's boots landing on deck at once and a very loud bellow of what sounded to be "Give no quarter!"
What can be going on up there to be making such a racket, she mused to herself, Give no quarter, what is that supposed to mean? I must have heard wrong or something.Deciding it might be a good idea to peek out her door and see that everything was alright, or as alright as it could be in a storm, Rhiannon stuffed her mending supplies into one of her hat boxes. Maybe the cook would like some help in the kitchen, it must be quite difficult to prepare a decent meal while the ship tossed about so.
Glad to find an excuse to stop her sewing, she went to the door. She opened it and stuck her head out, then swiftly brought it back in and closed the door with a slam. She winced at the loud sound that seemed to echo for far too long, and then locked the door before sliding down to the floor and looking under the crack at the bottom, watching for feet.
The reason for all this peculiar behavior was that Rhiannon had thought she had seen two men disappearing around the corner in the hallway. Sure it could have been two members of the crew, but she hadn't been able to recognize them and their dress was funny, all raggedy and torn beyond repair. This struck her as odd, seeing as how most of the crew dressed in the normal attire for a sailor: simple shirts with wide collars and three- quarter length sleeves, knee-length pants and stripped socks, some with bandanas tied about their necks. It couldn't be her father, for he wore what most liked to call longs clothes; knee-length pants and white stockings, a crisp white shirt with belled sleeves and lace cuffs, a waist coat and a long coat with tails. So who could these two be? These men in dirty garb that was years out of style with scarves and weapons hanging all over them and a foreboding air in their wakes.
A though struck Rhiannon: maybe they were stowaways! That would explain the state of their clothes as well as their lurking about the ship as they were. Deciding she should do what she could to stop them, she opened the door quietly and made her way after them on silent feet. She had to hike up her skirts above the floor so that they did not rustle about when she moved and when she made it to the turn in the hallway; she stopped and poked her head cautiously around the corner. There was no one there, she had wasted too much time hiding behind the door and had lost them. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment and her brow furrowed, pondering where they could have gone.
Letting her guard down she began to think of all the possible places they could be. They can't have gone up on deck because they surely must have known that someone would see them and then they would be in trouble, so they must have gone into one of the rooms. There is the kitchen and Papa's room...Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and her arms were wrenched behind her back. A large, rough and calloused hand was slapped over her mouth before she could scream out.
Oh no, I'm such a dullard! I let my mind get away with me and forgot to look out for the stowaways and now they've got me!
A hempen rope was wrapped around her wrists and some sort of cloth covered her eyes and was tied tightly behind her head. Some of the hair got caught in the knot and the sting as they were ripped out made her eyes water. She struggled against the restraints, but to no avail, her weak attempts proved nothing for the strong arms that held her and the rope that bound her. She started to scream and yell against his hand, her usually pale face turning red with the effort. He took his hand away and she bit it.
He made some inarticulate noise of pain and then her head was jerked back by her hair, exposing her white neck. Something icy-cold and sharp was brought to the exposed flesh of her neck, pricking her soft skin.
"Shiver me timbers, this one's got teeth Monty," he must have been addressing the other of the two she had seen, "Now missy, I wouldn' be doin' that again if I was ye," and with that she was steered to the stairs. One of them must have climbed up before her and she was handed up to him like a sack of potatoes. He yanked her to the deck and deposited her at his feet, waiting for his mate to make his way up. She was jerked to her feet and the knife replaced. It was raining and she was soon soaked through and shivering.
Rhiannon was guided farther out on deck and then stopped abruptly when her captor halted her progress by grabbing her tied hands. This twisted her arms even more and she yelped at the sudden pain in her shoulders. The two men that had caught her chuckled brusquely at this.
There was noise all about her and she couldn't sort out any of it, her brain addled with all that had happened so far. She heard loud, heavy footsteps, yelling, clashing metal like that of swords being brought together in battle, gun shots, canon booms and above all the pounding of the waves on the hulls of the ship and the rain pelting the deck wood and the canvas of the sails.
What is going on! It sounds like we're being attacked! Oh no, where is Papa!? Rhiannon could hear her heart beat frantically in her temples and her ears rang.
"Stay with 'er Anders, I'll go get the Cap'n," and then the one she thought to be Monty walked off.
The Captain? They can't mean Papa. He certainly won't be happy when he sees what they have done to me. What exactly is Papa doing associating with blokes like these? What is going on!?
A few minutes later she heard footsteps approaching and then the blindfold was torn from her head. She grimaced as the hairs caught in the blindfold's knot were pulled and broke. She kept her eyes closed; afraid of what she would see when she opened them.
"Open yer eyes, love," said a new voice. She slowly and tentatively opened first one eye, then the other. Rhiannon's dark blue eyes met dark, kohl lined orbs in a tanned and grimy face with a mustache and a goatee that was braided into two tails. The face was surrounded by a mass of dark hair braided, beaded, and be dangled. Dreadlocks were held back by a worn, red bandana under a yet, even more worn leather hat. She was startled, expecting to see her father. This man was definitely not her father, and she was scared to find out who it was.
"D'ya know who I am, lass?" He asked this of her gently and all Rhiannon could do was blink with a blank expression on her face. "I'm the Captain Jack Sparrow, at yer service, m'lady," he bowed mockingly to her- proof that he was not intending to be gentlemanly when he referred to her so. He was a pirate, and not just that, he was the most dreaded pirate in the Spanish Main. Even a sheltered girl who had grown up in England knew or had at least heard some of the stories told of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, especially this past year. There had been some interesting gossip floating around London that Season about some fiasco between the Black Pearl and its cursed crew of hellish marauders and the British Navy of Port Royal. The governer's daughter had gotten herself mixed up in the middle of it all and Captain Jack Sparrow had been the ringleader. Her eyes widened with fear, realizing now that she was in even more trouble than she has previously thought, but said nothing.
Jack Sparrow was not a thick dullard as some might think (and he let them think that mind you), but rather quite clever and knew that she recognized the name at least-he saw it in the way her beautiful eyes had widened and a shiver had coursed through her body-but it slightly angered him that she would not at least acknowledge him, nor offer her own name in return. He looked at her more closely, his eyes looking straight into her own and narrowing slightly, as if contemplating the right course to take while looking at an old and faded map that was hard to decipher.
When his face had been brought closer to hers, Rhiannon held her breath, and when his eyes had looked deep into her own she became very unnerved beneath his intense gaze. She squirmed in discomfort, wishing she were far away from him, as well as his motley crew-perhaps back in her cabin, unawares of what all had been going on up here.
Oh why did I have to leave the cabin!? Why couldn't I have been the sensible one and stayed where I was told?
She stopped her self-induced chastising when he spoke to her.
"Now love, wouldn't ye like t' know where yer father might be?" he casually tugged on the braids at his chin while he waited for her response, maybe a 'yes sir' or pleading, or something more than the tiny, almost nonexistent nod that he did receive. This grated on his nerves further and he motioned brusquely. A slumped and bound form was thrown to the deck in front of Rhiannon's feet.
A sob escaped her, to see her father brought to such disgrace. She went to kneel next to him so that he could tell her everything was going to be all right and that this was all just some joke they were all playing on her, but there was a pincer-like grip around her upper arm and she could not take even one step nearer to him. She was forced to stand, looking down on the bent and once-proud merchant that was her father.
"Girl, this be yer father, the richest and most successful merchant 'n the Spanish Main-say goodbye, ye wont be seein' him for a long while," and with that her father was wrestled off the ground and manhandled over to the starboard side of the ship, now silhouetted against the dark nighttime sky and the full moon. One of the men pulled out the plank. To Rhiannon it was like watching a seaman's version of a hanging. The dastardly pirate- captain, Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl was going to force a daughter to watch her father walk the plank and drown. Then she would be alone, at the mercy of the pirates to do with her what they will; Rhiannon shuddered at the thought.
Jack propelled, still with the vice-like hold on her arm over to where they were chaining a cannonball to her father's ankle. Her eyes were getting misty-but she would not let a single tear fall. Rhiannon Bathoe would not give in and let this band of brutes and their behemoth captain witness a weakness from her. I will not cry for them, she vowed to herself.
"Any last parting words ye would like t'say t'yer father before he joins Davie Jones in his underwater locker?" Jack asked her.
She glared daggers at the odious man-her fright was slowly giving way to rage. She was infuriated, furious that she could not control the situation. Striving to struggle out of his fixed grip on her arm, she stomped on his toe.
"Eh now, love! That wasn' very nice, how would you like it if I did that t' ye?" he eyed her with a smirk on his face and she feared for a moment that he really would repay her with a stamp on her foot, or worse.
Jack noticed that there was a fierceness beginning to grow in her midnight- colored eyes and that her cheeks were flushed. He, in a way, like the effect her anger was having on her. It would definitely make things more interesting dealing with this feisty vixen.
"Let me go to my father Captain Sparrow," her voice was almost caustic with acrimony. He may be a pirate, but he still had an ounce of decency in him (when he felt like it), so he let her go to him-if only to say farewell. As soon as her released his hold on her, she shot from his arms and went to her father.
"I'll not say goodbye, Papa," Jacks keen ears picked up the whispered message. He watched as her father brought both of his bound hands up to brush across her face with his knuckles and to sweep a curl away behind her ear. They were both kneeling on their knees and he leaned over and gently kissed her forehead, as he did so her eyes were closed as were his and for a second they were at peace. Simultaneously they opened their eyes again and Rhiannon leaned forward and snuggled her head into the base of his neck, digging her nose into his collar so as to smell the sent of him, like pipe smoke and the briny sea-and always remember it. Her father managed to slip something off of his right index finger and he dropped it into her dress pocket. "Rhia, sweetheart, I'm sorry we didn't have much time to spend together. I am very glad I did get to see you though, you have grown into a fine young woman," his eyes took on a wistful expression as he studied her face, "Keep my ring near your heart and I will always be with you. I love you, Rhiannon, always remember that."
"I love you too Papa," Rhiannon's voice cracked and she choked on the words.
Some of the softer hearted crew members, such as the cook and the others who had loving families of their own, could be seen with stricken looks of utter sorrow, pity, or even tears on their faces. Many others had the blank expressions of those that either didn't care, or were immune to such profound emotion. Jack felt as if he were spectacle to something that he ought not to be, and decided they had had long enough.
He motioned for his first mate to hoist her father up to his feet and he grabbed her by the back of her dress (catching some of her hair as well) and dragged her to her wobbly feet. She yelped softly in pain when some hairs snapped but otherwise remained silent, her moist eyes were fixated only on her dear father.
Her father, Brynn Bathoe, was made to step up onto the short walk to his death. Someone had to help him with the canon ball, seeing as how it was dragging his foot down. They cut the bindings that tied his wrists together and handed the weight of his life into his arms.
Rhiannon felt a lump in her throat and swallowed noisily, her breathing coming short. She watched as he walked (carrying the heavy sphere of metal in his tired arms) out halfway and turned back towards everyone.
He shifted the canon ball into one arm and blew her a kiss before saluting Jack Sparrow. Then he turned swiftly and nimbly on his heel and ran the last few feet and jumped. Seconds later they heard a loud splash and that was the end of that.
It took a few moments for it all to sink in for Rhiannon, but when it did she crumbled to the floor and found herself sitting with her skirts an island about her; her head was bowed and her still-bound arms ached at the shoulder. Suddenly she raised her face to the sky and shook back her locks.
"Mama, Papa.don't leave me, don't leave me here alone," her voice was hushed and rasping as she held back the torment of tears threatening to bring about another rainstorm. Her ashen face was illuminated with the moonlight and full of anguish. Jack had to admit to himself while watching her face of pain-personified, that she was beautiful and was so filled to brimming with emotion that it stunned him.
After the merchant Bathoe had plunged to his ending, most of the crew lost interest and had made their way back to the Pearl. Some lingered and he sent them below to gather the girl's things and to loot anything of any value and take it back to his own ship. He also ordered a few men to start drenching everything in kerosene and to light what would burn fastest. It had stopped raining, so the fire was sure to catch.
Once they were gone and the fires were beginning to rage behind him, he gathered the unresponsive bundle of girl into his arms and carried her over to the rail. He wrapped a thick rope a few times around one of his wrists, shifted her in his arms so that he held her tightly by her slender waist, and swung himself and his burden over to his ebony-colored ship deck. Once there he motioned for a crew member to approach him.
"Take her b'low-down to the bilge, lock her in one o'them birdcages down there an' return the key t'me aft' wards."
He would be seeing to her later, but for now he needed to prepare everyone to commence their voyage over the choppy waters.
"Alright ye scurvy dogs, we've got places t' be, ships t' plunder, gold t' steal!!" At the sound of his bellowing order, everyone immediately commenced to scurrying about and doing their jobs. Captain Sparrow made his way towards the helm and stopped at the beckoning of his first mate.
"What are we gonna do about the Dragon Cap'n?" he inquired and pointed towards Bathoe's green sailed ship.
"Scuttle it," was all Jack said and immediately the cannons were loaded.
"Aye, Cap'n," Gibbs, the first mate nodded his head of gray hair and turned to shout directions to the rest of the crew, "Come about! Ready the cannons mates!"
All at once, nine black spheres sped through the air and blew gaping black holes in the green sailed sea craft. Immediately a fire ignited and the ship began to tip to one side as water escaped inside through the openings. There was no one there to neither bail it out, nor extinguish the flames and quite soon it was consumed by fire and water simultaneously.
Below deck, peering through the same hole that the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow had looked through no more than half a year ago, Rhiannon watched as her father's pride and joy disappeared beneath the waves. Soon all that she could see was the flaming Union Jack that used to fly proudly at the top of the tallest mast sink below the surface of the undulating waters. It steamed as the flames charring its edges were finally put out. Then it was gone, now home to the fish as well as the dead bodies of its honest and hardworking crew. Rhiannon had to look away.
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A/N: Just a few little tid-bits. If anyone was wondering how to pronounce 'Bathoe"-Rhiannon's last name, its Ba-(as in the British pronunciation of 'can') and thoy-(rhymes with 'boy'). It's a common Welsh surname. Also, I'll try and have the next chapter posted tomorrow; all depends on how much homework my slave drivers-I mean teachers, decide to dump on me.
Empress SLOR: Thank You so much!! This was my first fic and I was really expecting the flames to come rolling in. You get a golden star for being my first reviewer! *sticks little golden star-sticker on your forehead* p.s. oh poo! I'm sure your fics are simply loverly!