Chapter 4
Sparrow stood at the bow and watched the shadow grow larger. "Strange." She mused out loud. It was unlike anything she had seen before outside of movies and history books. Possibilities ran through her head, too fast to materialize. Perhaps, a very intricate role-playing game, she decided. But her mind was set on getting out of the suffocating fog, onto something safe. She didn't like the feeling of being stranded out at sea. Her four mates stood at her side, all in baggy jeans and jackets. She knew what was under them, something similar to what was under her clothes. Two short-nosed .38s in their holsters beneath her flannel shirt, a Browning stuffed in a hip holster beneath the waist of her pants, three switchblades in her pockets, two double edged knives in wrist sheaths, a Beretta in a thigh holster, a rifle down the leg of her jeans and an indiscernible amount of cocaine knotted in her hair beneath the hat. She was prepared for war. The ammunition was in a bag around her arm, hidden in clothing, next to her ship, her firepower was the most important thing for her. She could kill the whole fucking crew if she had to and for a moment she prepared herself for that possibility. "Hope for the best, kids." She held the flare- gun above her head and squeezed the trigger; it started with a bang and a whistle, then another explosion. They could all hear yelling, screaming. Any fire such as that could cause something of a commotion. "Gin." She said quietly, calmer than she expected. Never tearing her eyes from the growing shadow.
"Yeah." The girl whispered back to her.
"I couldn't make an ID for you. We'll figure something out. You speak Spanish?"
"Yeah."
"So do they. Any other languages?"
"English, German, Dutch, French, Japanese, Russian and Italian." Sparrow turned with a strange amazement.
"Really?" The tone in her voice had shifted completely from stoic to disbelief.
"Yeah." Sparrow gave a noncommittal grunt, opening the gate for her calm to return to her.
"Alright, in that case, we'll have no problem." She turned back to the approaching ship and took a deep breath.
......
"Welcome to the Sweet Rebecca, ladies." A man with a terrible British accent and ragged sailor clothing gave them a little bow and a wickedly proper grin. "We are but a meager merchant sloop but would always be a pleasure to help such...distraught maidens such as yourselves."
"Right..." Pogo turned from face to face of the crowd around them, starring at them as if they were some kind freak show. She didn't like the way they looked at her, like she was some thing. She starred into the ash- colored eyes of a boy no more than sixteen challenging him with her own darkness. He blushed and turned to the deck, she gave a bit of a huff and turned back to the man that had taken himself to welcoming them. "Is this some kind of role-playing gig or something?"
"Pardon?" The man gave her a hopelessly confused look. She cocked her head and gave him the same look that she gave the boy but the man wasn't quite so unsure of himself. They took a moment, challenging each other before Sparrow coughed and stepped up.
"We were on our way to Virginia, from Nassau. Going home from trading, as it were..." She paused for a moment, trying to read past the man smug façade. "In any case, we're experiencing some technical difficulties and were just hoping for a lift to the mainland. It would be greatly appreciated and we'd be willing to reimburse you for any inconveniences, Mr..."
"Oh! Pardon my manners! Fitch. Captain James Fitch."
"Captain Fitch." She folded her hands and waited for his response, feeling on display in front of the muttering crew.
"I'm sorry to tell you, Miss. .."
"Tyler, Captain Isobella Tyler." She lied like silk.
"Captain Tyler," He grimaced at the word 'captain', he certainly was in character. "But we are headed straight for Nassau ourselves--"
"That's perfect, we have connections in Nassau." She feigned a distressed tone. "Though that will set us back a few weeks but it is better to lose a few weeks and a dead boat rather than the lives of my crew, Captain. Am I not right?" Sparrow swallowed a smile as Captain Fitch scratched the back of his neck, looked to the deck and mumbled something affirmative. She knew that the men would be too deeply delved in their games, their supposedly chivalrous characters to abandon them with a dead boat. "Oh thank you sir." There was an awkward pause on the ship as the men turned to each other and muttered in disgruntled tones. No one liked having a woman on the ship, five seemed much too much. She had a feeling it was going to be a very difficult ride to Nassau. The captain turned and screamed a few orders then turned to approach the rails with them. He seemed to move easier with all the orders being relayed, the movement around him, he was in his element. Sparrow watched as Cassandra floated away, the lonely white vessel looking like an abandoned little girl. Her little girl.
"That certainly is a strange ship you've got there-" Fitch watched her as she pulled something out of her pocket and ran to the aft of the ship before he could even note the impossibility with which the women sailed.
"Sparr--Tyler!" Pogo screamed and ran after her and watched as the woman threw the thing in her hand onto the deck of the little boat. "What the hell are you doing?" Before Pogo could get another word in a loud explosion sounded and Sparrow and Pogo were pressed to the deck. There was a commotion on board but neither of the girls dared to look up. Neither wanted to look up. They lay on the deck with their foreheads pressed to the wood. After a moment of that Sparrow finally opened her mouth.
"You think it's cedar?" She said, not taking her face away from the deck.
"No. Too soft for a ship, sure smells like it though. Doesn't it?"
"Yeah." There was a rustle beside them, around them.
"Sir! Pirates!" Sparrow lifted her head and rested on her elbows in a sort of cheerleader fashion. A small boy, no more than twelve stood pointing to the girls, waiting. Sparrow looked over as six men took Dani, Roxy and Gin into their arms. Two handlers to one pirate. She looked at the boy again who had a strange glimmer of pride and fear shining in his eyes. He looked at her, noticed she moved and glanced up again.
"Now, what on earth makes you say that?" The boy glanced back down at her, something on his face. Like he was surprised it could speak.
"Your-- your tattoos, Miss." The boy stuttered, his speech a little less steady. Sparrow casually glanced down at Pogo, whose shirt had crept up her back when she pushed the both of them down. There, on the center of her back was the proud, bold outline of a skull with two rifles fashioned in a crossed pattern. Pogo gave a sheepish smile from beneath her pink bangs.
"Oh sure, 'Let's all get matching tattoos! It'll be fun!'" Sparrow mocked Pogo's voice. "I'm never drinking with you again." She said in a casual voice. In two moves she was pulled onto her feet and bound at the wrists by two men. She turned as the same was done to Pogo. With a feigned obedience, both girls were led to the Captain, who still stood where they had first boarded, Dani, Roxy and Gin bound beside them.
"Pirates." He said as he paced along the line of women, as if that one word explained everything. He continued to pace and lecture though Sparrow didn't pay attention to one word. She shifted from one foot to the other, feeling the comfort of her weapons, if she could get to them before he did... "Put'em in the brigs until I know what to do with them." He stepped close to Sparrow. She could smell every thing he had ever eaten on his breath, bile from last night, rum and something yeasty from the morning. She could see every missing tooth, a scar on his cheek, old, tired eyes. "God have mercy on your pathetic soul. The Spanish won't."
Sparrow stood at the bow and watched the shadow grow larger. "Strange." She mused out loud. It was unlike anything she had seen before outside of movies and history books. Possibilities ran through her head, too fast to materialize. Perhaps, a very intricate role-playing game, she decided. But her mind was set on getting out of the suffocating fog, onto something safe. She didn't like the feeling of being stranded out at sea. Her four mates stood at her side, all in baggy jeans and jackets. She knew what was under them, something similar to what was under her clothes. Two short-nosed .38s in their holsters beneath her flannel shirt, a Browning stuffed in a hip holster beneath the waist of her pants, three switchblades in her pockets, two double edged knives in wrist sheaths, a Beretta in a thigh holster, a rifle down the leg of her jeans and an indiscernible amount of cocaine knotted in her hair beneath the hat. She was prepared for war. The ammunition was in a bag around her arm, hidden in clothing, next to her ship, her firepower was the most important thing for her. She could kill the whole fucking crew if she had to and for a moment she prepared herself for that possibility. "Hope for the best, kids." She held the flare- gun above her head and squeezed the trigger; it started with a bang and a whistle, then another explosion. They could all hear yelling, screaming. Any fire such as that could cause something of a commotion. "Gin." She said quietly, calmer than she expected. Never tearing her eyes from the growing shadow.
"Yeah." The girl whispered back to her.
"I couldn't make an ID for you. We'll figure something out. You speak Spanish?"
"Yeah."
"So do they. Any other languages?"
"English, German, Dutch, French, Japanese, Russian and Italian." Sparrow turned with a strange amazement.
"Really?" The tone in her voice had shifted completely from stoic to disbelief.
"Yeah." Sparrow gave a noncommittal grunt, opening the gate for her calm to return to her.
"Alright, in that case, we'll have no problem." She turned back to the approaching ship and took a deep breath.
......
"Welcome to the Sweet Rebecca, ladies." A man with a terrible British accent and ragged sailor clothing gave them a little bow and a wickedly proper grin. "We are but a meager merchant sloop but would always be a pleasure to help such...distraught maidens such as yourselves."
"Right..." Pogo turned from face to face of the crowd around them, starring at them as if they were some kind freak show. She didn't like the way they looked at her, like she was some thing. She starred into the ash- colored eyes of a boy no more than sixteen challenging him with her own darkness. He blushed and turned to the deck, she gave a bit of a huff and turned back to the man that had taken himself to welcoming them. "Is this some kind of role-playing gig or something?"
"Pardon?" The man gave her a hopelessly confused look. She cocked her head and gave him the same look that she gave the boy but the man wasn't quite so unsure of himself. They took a moment, challenging each other before Sparrow coughed and stepped up.
"We were on our way to Virginia, from Nassau. Going home from trading, as it were..." She paused for a moment, trying to read past the man smug façade. "In any case, we're experiencing some technical difficulties and were just hoping for a lift to the mainland. It would be greatly appreciated and we'd be willing to reimburse you for any inconveniences, Mr..."
"Oh! Pardon my manners! Fitch. Captain James Fitch."
"Captain Fitch." She folded her hands and waited for his response, feeling on display in front of the muttering crew.
"I'm sorry to tell you, Miss. .."
"Tyler, Captain Isobella Tyler." She lied like silk.
"Captain Tyler," He grimaced at the word 'captain', he certainly was in character. "But we are headed straight for Nassau ourselves--"
"That's perfect, we have connections in Nassau." She feigned a distressed tone. "Though that will set us back a few weeks but it is better to lose a few weeks and a dead boat rather than the lives of my crew, Captain. Am I not right?" Sparrow swallowed a smile as Captain Fitch scratched the back of his neck, looked to the deck and mumbled something affirmative. She knew that the men would be too deeply delved in their games, their supposedly chivalrous characters to abandon them with a dead boat. "Oh thank you sir." There was an awkward pause on the ship as the men turned to each other and muttered in disgruntled tones. No one liked having a woman on the ship, five seemed much too much. She had a feeling it was going to be a very difficult ride to Nassau. The captain turned and screamed a few orders then turned to approach the rails with them. He seemed to move easier with all the orders being relayed, the movement around him, he was in his element. Sparrow watched as Cassandra floated away, the lonely white vessel looking like an abandoned little girl. Her little girl.
"That certainly is a strange ship you've got there-" Fitch watched her as she pulled something out of her pocket and ran to the aft of the ship before he could even note the impossibility with which the women sailed.
"Sparr--Tyler!" Pogo screamed and ran after her and watched as the woman threw the thing in her hand onto the deck of the little boat. "What the hell are you doing?" Before Pogo could get another word in a loud explosion sounded and Sparrow and Pogo were pressed to the deck. There was a commotion on board but neither of the girls dared to look up. Neither wanted to look up. They lay on the deck with their foreheads pressed to the wood. After a moment of that Sparrow finally opened her mouth.
"You think it's cedar?" She said, not taking her face away from the deck.
"No. Too soft for a ship, sure smells like it though. Doesn't it?"
"Yeah." There was a rustle beside them, around them.
"Sir! Pirates!" Sparrow lifted her head and rested on her elbows in a sort of cheerleader fashion. A small boy, no more than twelve stood pointing to the girls, waiting. Sparrow looked over as six men took Dani, Roxy and Gin into their arms. Two handlers to one pirate. She looked at the boy again who had a strange glimmer of pride and fear shining in his eyes. He looked at her, noticed she moved and glanced up again.
"Now, what on earth makes you say that?" The boy glanced back down at her, something on his face. Like he was surprised it could speak.
"Your-- your tattoos, Miss." The boy stuttered, his speech a little less steady. Sparrow casually glanced down at Pogo, whose shirt had crept up her back when she pushed the both of them down. There, on the center of her back was the proud, bold outline of a skull with two rifles fashioned in a crossed pattern. Pogo gave a sheepish smile from beneath her pink bangs.
"Oh sure, 'Let's all get matching tattoos! It'll be fun!'" Sparrow mocked Pogo's voice. "I'm never drinking with you again." She said in a casual voice. In two moves she was pulled onto her feet and bound at the wrists by two men. She turned as the same was done to Pogo. With a feigned obedience, both girls were led to the Captain, who still stood where they had first boarded, Dani, Roxy and Gin bound beside them.
"Pirates." He said as he paced along the line of women, as if that one word explained everything. He continued to pace and lecture though Sparrow didn't pay attention to one word. She shifted from one foot to the other, feeling the comfort of her weapons, if she could get to them before he did... "Put'em in the brigs until I know what to do with them." He stepped close to Sparrow. She could smell every thing he had ever eaten on his breath, bile from last night, rum and something yeasty from the morning. She could see every missing tooth, a scar on his cheek, old, tired eyes. "God have mercy on your pathetic soul. The Spanish won't."