Legend of the Dragon's Claw
By Amos Whirly Chapter One: The StrangerThe dark blue fabric of the British flag flapped in the wild Caribbean breeze above the harbor at Port Royal. The marketplace was bustling, filled with every merchant imaginable, all attempting to persuade passers-by to purchase unnecessary goods and services.
A five-year-old girl skipped jovially down the dirt street. She wore a simple little dress, and her brown hair fell in corkscrew curls around her little face. She stopped at a merchant booth flaunting sweets and toys.
"Why 'allo Miss Tori," the merchant bent over the counter to greet the little brown-haired girl. "'Ow kin I be 'elpin' ye t'daiy? Would ye lyke some candy, luv?"
"Aye, sir. Very much," the little girl's brown eyes shone brilliantly, "but Mum says I can't."
"Oh, jest a few pieces won't 'urt nuthin', luvy!"
The man held out a bag of hard candy, tempting the girl.
"Mr. Martin!" came a sharp voice.
The merchant jumped and nearly dropped the bag of candy.
"M—Mrs. Turner!" he yelped, falling into his seat behind his booth as a beautiful young woman approached the booth.
She wore a simple dress and a tasteful straw hat. In one arm, she carried a baby boy with huge black eyes.
"I would thank you not to solicit my daughter, Mr. Martin," she said briskly, brown eyes sparkling. "Come, Tori." She held out her hand, and the young girl took it.
The girl and her mother walked away together.
"Oh, Mum," the girl whispered, "why can't we buy some candy?"
"Oh, darling, we can't afford it."
The little girl lowered her head, brown curls falling around her face.
Her mother stopped and knelt down beside her, saying, "but I promise, Tori, some day I'll buy you a boatload of candy."
"Really?"
The girl's head lifted, and she grinned from ear to ear.
"I promise."
Tori threw her little arms around her mother's slender neck, and they both laughed as the baby fussed at all the movement.
"Now," Mrs. Turner stood and brushed off her dress. "We're only here for groceries."
"May I look at Mr. Parker's glass angles, Mum?"
"Of course," she answered. "Stay there. I'll come find you when I'm done."
"All right, Mum."
Tori ran off to another stand. Mr. Parker made beautiful sculptures out of glass, and Tori liked nothing better than to gaze at all the fabulous creatures that littered his sale table.
Tori peered over the edge of the counter and smiled at a glass dolphin. She looked around for Mr. Parker, but he was nowhere in sight. Tori fingered a glass flower and smiled at a glass bird that hung over her head.
Suddenly, Mr. Parker's ancient face appeared in the booth.
"Why, hello, little Tori!" he smiled at her. "How are you this bright, fine morning."
"Fine," she nodded.
"Are you wanting to buy something?"
"No, sir."
"Just looking, then, are you?"
She nodded again.
"It's a rare craft indeed causes little girls to stare," came a strange voice.
Tori turned and looked up.
A slender figure draped in a dark, hooded cape stood beside her, leaning nonchalantly on the booth. She could barely see his nose.
"Uh," Mr. Parker cleared his throat, "yes, it is."
"A fine art," the stranger picked up a glass sculpture of a sailing ship.
Tori stared at his dirty hand. His hand was greasy and grimy, and a number of rings perched on his fingers.
"You've dirty hands, sir," she said aloud.
The stranger looked down at her, smirking visibly under his hood.
"And is there something wrong with dirty hands, little missy?"
"No," the little girl shook her head. "Papa's hands are always dirty, but Mum makes him wash afore he comes in the house."
"Really?" the stranger knelt down in front of Tori. "And what does your father do that causes his hands to be so dirty?"
"He makes things," Tori nodded proudly.
"Makes things?"
"Miss Tori's father is the best blacksmith in town, sir," Mr. Parker spoke from behind his booth.
"Brown, is it, then?" the stranger asked, setting the glass ship on the countertop.
"Brown?" Parker laughed. "Naw. Old Brown died years ago. It's his apprentice. Will Turner."
The stranger straightened slowly, his unseen gaze never leaving the little girl.
"And you are his daughter?" he asked.
"Aye, that's me," the girl smiled. "Victoria Elizabeth Marie Isabella Turner."
"Quite a long name for such a little lass."
"Everybody calls me Tori."
"Well, I should call you Tori, then, aye?" he extended his hand.
With a giggle, Tori shook it.
"And your mother—she would be Elizabeth, yes?"
"Aye."
"Aye," the man scratched his chin with his grimy hands.
Tori stared at what she could see of his beard. It was dark but not quite full, with two beaded braids hanging from his chin.
"Interesting," she heard him mutter.
He picked up the glass ship again.
"How much for this, mate?" he shook the sculpture at Mr. Parker.
"Two shillings."
The stranger dove into a pocket beneath his cape and dug out two silver coins, slapping them on the table, and kneeling down again.
"Here you go, luv," he handed the ship to Tori.
She took it and grinned hugely.
"Thank you, sir!"
"You're very much welcome."
"But my mum—"
"Tell her Smith gave it to you."
"Smith?"
"That's what you can call me," the stranger patted her head. "Smith."
"Thank you, Mr. Smith."
"Tori!" Elizabeth Turner's voice carried over the din of the marketplace.
Tori looked over her shoulder and waved at her mother, and when she turned back, the stranger had disappeared as if he had never been there.
"Ready to go, darling?"
"Mum! Mum! Look what Mr. Smith gave me!" Tori handed the little glass ship to her mother.
Elizabeth shifted the baby to the other arm and examined the little ship.
It was small, sitting perfectly in the palm of her hand. It's shining glass sails sparkled in the afternoon sun, and a flag waved from its tallest mast.
"Tori," she started, her voice shaking, "I told you, we can only afford groceries."
"It's all right, Mrs. Elizabeth," Mr. Parker spoke from behind his booth. "Some odd fellow calling himself Smith came up and bought it for her."
"Smith?" Elizabeth furrowed her pretty brow.
"Aye," Mr. Parker nodded. "So, it's hers."
"Well," Elizabeth handed the ship back to her daughter, "did you thank Mr. Smith?"
"Yes, Mum. Twice."
"All right," Elizabeth smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Parker."
Mr. Parker nodded, and Elizabeth and her children started walking.
"Mum," Tori took her mother's hand as she clutched the little ship in the other, "do you suppose it's a pirate ship? Like the ones in the stories you and Papa told me?"
"No, darling," Elizabeth smiled down at her. "It's just a little sailing ship."
"Oh," Tori pursed her little lips. "I was hoping it was a pirate ship."
"Why?"
"It would be fun to meet a pirate."
"Tori, darling, you remind me of someone," Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
"Who, Mum?"
"Myself."
In an alley behind them, the man in the black cape watched their every move.
"Ah, Elizabeth," he chuckled, "you haven't changed a bit, luv."