A/N: I don't own PoTC. I hope you like this new fanfiction.
My mother, Miss Whitney Gillmire was born into a rich farming family. My father, Thomas Bartholomew, was no more than a servant, who like so many fell for my mother's beauty. Her auburn hair and deep blue eyes cased a mystical hold on any man. Se even had a few freckles on her young face that even with age never seemed to go away. The only difference was that this time, my mother fell in love with him as well. As a young girl she told my grandparents of her wishes to marry him, and since Whitney wasn't their only child, they agreed. But one day the British troops came and claimed that Thomas was a pirate. Whitney mother helped father escape from their grasp, and three years later, she came back to my grandparents, begging them to help her. She was now Mrs. Whitney Bartholomew, and was with child. Father was in prison, and was going to be hung at dawn the next day.
My grandparents did help Thomas, but when the baby was born, they turned on them. Mother fled the sean, but her baby was taken from her by her own mother. My father was once more in jail. That's when the great Silver Arrow was born. My mother snuck into the fort in Liverpool, England, to rescue my father. She was only 20 at the time. Nearly eight soldiers fell at her sword and my mother saved my father's life. They could no longer live in England, so they fled to the Caribbean where my father's grandfather, first started out as a pirate, and later headed over and started up the Eat India Trading Company with another good pirate named Morgan. My father's father, or my grandfather was an English man, but his wife had been the great, great granddaughter of the famous Grace O'Malley, who lived back in the 15 and 1600's. The name Bartholomew was a mere inconvenience, for it was used as a cover up, and everyone called his family that since. It was really and rightfully O'Malley.
Both my mother and father worked for my grandfather as fearless pirates. They gave the British a good run for their money. But after two years, my father lost an eye while in battle. He retired, along with my mother, and opened up a trading company, which many stolen goods filtered through. My mother, only 22, had my older brother by one year, Jason and then me, Abigail, or Abby Bartholomew. Then after a few years, my sister Mary was born. My mother's fist daughter was never spoken of until her brother passed away. My aunt came down to live with us, bring her three triplets along. Their names were Timothy, Rachel, and Rebecca. My dear Aunt Maple as we were told to call her, past away after three years of grief. In that time my father had started to plunder every now and then, and wasn't home very often. After he lost two fingers, he gave up, saying he lost the knack for piracy. But he still worked with my grandfather. But in his travels he had come across a young baby from an odd country, somewhere near Africa. Mother named her Tara, and treated her as her own child. My mother recently had twins, Sarah and Jacob.
This is what I knew to be my family, a very loud and noisy crew of loving and outlawed people. My mother's other brothers came over from England with their wives and children. They said their parents had killed a young servant girl who was only eight, because her mother was rumored to be a witch. They were sickened with them. So were their neighbors. According to my Uncle Matthew and James, my mother's first daughter was as beautiful as her, and her mind had been poisoned by her grandparents. She was named Janet. There were only two times I had ever seen my mother cry, and this was one of them. My father's sister and brother, Aunt Ellen and Uncle Stephen, were both married. Ellen had five children, and Stephen had seven. Whenever a party was held, or anything of the sort, hundreds of pounds were spent on food, drink (mostly rum), and space. My grandfather bought an entire island for my family, and that's where we lived. Our house was large enough and each child had their own room. Wealth was strong in our family. My grandfather said that one day the age of piracy would end, but when it did, there would be a place for us here. Many of my uncles worked for my father and grandfather. I saw them often. Some were mere friends that were close enough and knew me since I was born. Some of my cousins had gray hair and children of their own, while others were a bit younger, and still had newborns. No matter what there was always a new born somewhere.
And as I said, our house was right by the water. There were many times when me and my cousins and brothers would play in the waves, catch fish, and even jump off small cliffs. I used to go out near dawn and sit in the sand. The sea would wash up and play at my toes that were buried deep in the sand. I would sit at night and watch the stars, my brother, cousins, and sister at my sides and all around me. No one would have to go through anything alone.
But when I was ten all that changed. I was sitting up in the cliffs. There was this old rock there that was shaped like a seat and tilted down into the water. I saw the fleet before it could even see our island. I jumped from the seat and fell into the frothy water, popping out seconds later. I swam as fast as I could to the shore, and then ran the 80 feet of sandy shore that lay between my house and the water. I fell over a great many times. I told my mother and she ordered me to run to all the houses to tell everyone. The island wasn't that big; you could walk around its cliffs and beaches in just three or four hours. I ran so fast I had trouble telling them. Everyone panicked and ran about packing what they could. My brother and a few of my younger cousins could not be found and as I ran back to my house I saw them, half dragging my grandfather from the porch down the beach. The stubborn old fool wouldn't leave his home to soldiers. I helped to force him down the beach.
By then I could see the flag of England posted high on each of the ships. My father said that there wasn't time to get a ship on the water. He ushered my mother and us to one of the caves. Rachel began to cry and mother hushed all of our whimpering, even Jason's by singing to us. I still know the words to that tune. Every now and then a few of our younger cousins would rush in and father came back once to tell us to go further in. That's when it started. The cannons fired and we heard yelling. There were a few screams, and my aunts, followed by Uncle Matthew and Uncle Stephen came running into the cave. My mother went to help Aunt Elease, Matthew's wife, because she was with child and there was a gun wound on her arm. She was lucky; it merely grazed her arm. There was the sound of swords clashing at the cave entrance, and when my mom went sprinting, sword drawn to help, I heard her petrified scream echo out. Before anyone could stop me, I followed. What I saw at the mouth of the cave was enough to kill me then and there. An old man that looked like a Sargent had a sword through my father's stomach.
I ran forward, tears filling my eyes. My mother grabbed me around the waist and we both crumpled to the floor. I tried to go forward, but there was no need. My father pulled the sword out with his own two hands, and crawled as far as he could. He was just with in my reach, when a gunshot rang out, and he dropped to the ground dead. I screamed so long and so loud I thought I was going to die from not breathing. Jason came running in, also with a sword. He saw mother and me, holding each other, mother covering my face so I could not see the blood seeping from my father's head. I looked to see my brother leap forward. The sword was easily knocked from his hand and he fell backward. The old man's sword raised into the air, but I soon found myself alone. I looked past the pool of blood and my father's body to see my mother block the man's blow. Her words still haunt me, "You may be my father, and you may have raised me. I will let the death of my husband go, but harm another soul here today, and you won't live to return and tell your bloody perfect family your minor triumph." I looked in shock at my grandfather. A person I had never known. "At least give me the children, for more are coming to make sure I did my deed."
He made to move toward me and my blood froze, but my mother cut through his red coat and to his flesh. Blood soaked through his coat, darkening it," You lay one hand on my children, or anyone else's and you and your men will die. I will kill my own father, his fleet, and my own family if I must."
"And what of your own daughter?" My mother lowered her sword as well. "I have only four daughters, none of which you will know by name. You must be mistaken." My mother turned to help my brother to his feet. It happened so fast. My grandfather took his sword and was about to kill my mother. I called out. My mother pulled a knife from her boot as she ducked and shoved it into her own father's stomach. She whispered the words, "I changed my mind, you will die." And then kicked him away from her. My family came filing from the caves, their faces as white as sheets. My mother whipped her knife on my grandfather's pants, "Sorry Matthew, I seemed to have killed our father." Uncle Matthew nodded, "And the world is better for it." My mother picked Tara up from Mary's weak arms, and headed out of the cave.
We picked through the bodies. The fleet was leaving, but they continued to fire cannons at us as we left. All the ships on our small port were in ruins. Every house, except for Grandfather's was trashed on the inside. We found out the reason why. In the parlor lay grandfather, two bullets had gone through his heart. But all around him the bodies of red coats made the tile floors crimson. We knew we had to leave as soon as possible. The family would take what money was left and head for Tortuga. Then, for the first time in years, we would split up. I for one was miserable. My father was dead. Shock was still in my mind and body, but it hit full force in the night when I went outside because I heard noises to see my father's body go up in flames. Uncle Richard, Aunt Ellen's husband was dead. Our family name now meant nothing to anyone. We may have set the rules for years of piracy, but within a day the ships arrived to cart off our things. They were surprised to see living people. One small fleet of three ships showed up to cart off our furniture, but it didn't work very well. They ended up giving us one of their ships, and got themselves an entire island. They owned it now.
It was hard living after that. We arrived at Tortuga with tears in our eyes. Some of the good, respectable pirates nodded to us at the dock. News travels fast. We were able to get rooms at Inns that were relatively close together. My cousin, Caitlin, and daughter of Aunt Ellen, who was now a widow, was my only friend at the time. It was a relief for me when Aunt Ellen decided to stay and live in Tortuga with us. She was like a sister to me and only a year older as well. Uncle James and Aunt Alison, Uncle Stephen and Aunt Megan, along with Uncle Matthew and Aunt Elease, decided to stay and help us before setting off. Nothing was going to be the same. Everyone pitched in to build an Inn and bar in the better part of Tortuga, were people could really live without being shot. Aunt Ellen, Richard Jr., Anthony, David, Caitlin, Michael, and Devin moved into a house next door. And for the next eight years, this was home.
My mother, Miss Whitney Gillmire was born into a rich farming family. My father, Thomas Bartholomew, was no more than a servant, who like so many fell for my mother's beauty. Her auburn hair and deep blue eyes cased a mystical hold on any man. Se even had a few freckles on her young face that even with age never seemed to go away. The only difference was that this time, my mother fell in love with him as well. As a young girl she told my grandparents of her wishes to marry him, and since Whitney wasn't their only child, they agreed. But one day the British troops came and claimed that Thomas was a pirate. Whitney mother helped father escape from their grasp, and three years later, she came back to my grandparents, begging them to help her. She was now Mrs. Whitney Bartholomew, and was with child. Father was in prison, and was going to be hung at dawn the next day.
My grandparents did help Thomas, but when the baby was born, they turned on them. Mother fled the sean, but her baby was taken from her by her own mother. My father was once more in jail. That's when the great Silver Arrow was born. My mother snuck into the fort in Liverpool, England, to rescue my father. She was only 20 at the time. Nearly eight soldiers fell at her sword and my mother saved my father's life. They could no longer live in England, so they fled to the Caribbean where my father's grandfather, first started out as a pirate, and later headed over and started up the Eat India Trading Company with another good pirate named Morgan. My father's father, or my grandfather was an English man, but his wife had been the great, great granddaughter of the famous Grace O'Malley, who lived back in the 15 and 1600's. The name Bartholomew was a mere inconvenience, for it was used as a cover up, and everyone called his family that since. It was really and rightfully O'Malley.
Both my mother and father worked for my grandfather as fearless pirates. They gave the British a good run for their money. But after two years, my father lost an eye while in battle. He retired, along with my mother, and opened up a trading company, which many stolen goods filtered through. My mother, only 22, had my older brother by one year, Jason and then me, Abigail, or Abby Bartholomew. Then after a few years, my sister Mary was born. My mother's fist daughter was never spoken of until her brother passed away. My aunt came down to live with us, bring her three triplets along. Their names were Timothy, Rachel, and Rebecca. My dear Aunt Maple as we were told to call her, past away after three years of grief. In that time my father had started to plunder every now and then, and wasn't home very often. After he lost two fingers, he gave up, saying he lost the knack for piracy. But he still worked with my grandfather. But in his travels he had come across a young baby from an odd country, somewhere near Africa. Mother named her Tara, and treated her as her own child. My mother recently had twins, Sarah and Jacob.
This is what I knew to be my family, a very loud and noisy crew of loving and outlawed people. My mother's other brothers came over from England with their wives and children. They said their parents had killed a young servant girl who was only eight, because her mother was rumored to be a witch. They were sickened with them. So were their neighbors. According to my Uncle Matthew and James, my mother's first daughter was as beautiful as her, and her mind had been poisoned by her grandparents. She was named Janet. There were only two times I had ever seen my mother cry, and this was one of them. My father's sister and brother, Aunt Ellen and Uncle Stephen, were both married. Ellen had five children, and Stephen had seven. Whenever a party was held, or anything of the sort, hundreds of pounds were spent on food, drink (mostly rum), and space. My grandfather bought an entire island for my family, and that's where we lived. Our house was large enough and each child had their own room. Wealth was strong in our family. My grandfather said that one day the age of piracy would end, but when it did, there would be a place for us here. Many of my uncles worked for my father and grandfather. I saw them often. Some were mere friends that were close enough and knew me since I was born. Some of my cousins had gray hair and children of their own, while others were a bit younger, and still had newborns. No matter what there was always a new born somewhere.
And as I said, our house was right by the water. There were many times when me and my cousins and brothers would play in the waves, catch fish, and even jump off small cliffs. I used to go out near dawn and sit in the sand. The sea would wash up and play at my toes that were buried deep in the sand. I would sit at night and watch the stars, my brother, cousins, and sister at my sides and all around me. No one would have to go through anything alone.
But when I was ten all that changed. I was sitting up in the cliffs. There was this old rock there that was shaped like a seat and tilted down into the water. I saw the fleet before it could even see our island. I jumped from the seat and fell into the frothy water, popping out seconds later. I swam as fast as I could to the shore, and then ran the 80 feet of sandy shore that lay between my house and the water. I fell over a great many times. I told my mother and she ordered me to run to all the houses to tell everyone. The island wasn't that big; you could walk around its cliffs and beaches in just three or four hours. I ran so fast I had trouble telling them. Everyone panicked and ran about packing what they could. My brother and a few of my younger cousins could not be found and as I ran back to my house I saw them, half dragging my grandfather from the porch down the beach. The stubborn old fool wouldn't leave his home to soldiers. I helped to force him down the beach.
By then I could see the flag of England posted high on each of the ships. My father said that there wasn't time to get a ship on the water. He ushered my mother and us to one of the caves. Rachel began to cry and mother hushed all of our whimpering, even Jason's by singing to us. I still know the words to that tune. Every now and then a few of our younger cousins would rush in and father came back once to tell us to go further in. That's when it started. The cannons fired and we heard yelling. There were a few screams, and my aunts, followed by Uncle Matthew and Uncle Stephen came running into the cave. My mother went to help Aunt Elease, Matthew's wife, because she was with child and there was a gun wound on her arm. She was lucky; it merely grazed her arm. There was the sound of swords clashing at the cave entrance, and when my mom went sprinting, sword drawn to help, I heard her petrified scream echo out. Before anyone could stop me, I followed. What I saw at the mouth of the cave was enough to kill me then and there. An old man that looked like a Sargent had a sword through my father's stomach.
I ran forward, tears filling my eyes. My mother grabbed me around the waist and we both crumpled to the floor. I tried to go forward, but there was no need. My father pulled the sword out with his own two hands, and crawled as far as he could. He was just with in my reach, when a gunshot rang out, and he dropped to the ground dead. I screamed so long and so loud I thought I was going to die from not breathing. Jason came running in, also with a sword. He saw mother and me, holding each other, mother covering my face so I could not see the blood seeping from my father's head. I looked to see my brother leap forward. The sword was easily knocked from his hand and he fell backward. The old man's sword raised into the air, but I soon found myself alone. I looked past the pool of blood and my father's body to see my mother block the man's blow. Her words still haunt me, "You may be my father, and you may have raised me. I will let the death of my husband go, but harm another soul here today, and you won't live to return and tell your bloody perfect family your minor triumph." I looked in shock at my grandfather. A person I had never known. "At least give me the children, for more are coming to make sure I did my deed."
He made to move toward me and my blood froze, but my mother cut through his red coat and to his flesh. Blood soaked through his coat, darkening it," You lay one hand on my children, or anyone else's and you and your men will die. I will kill my own father, his fleet, and my own family if I must."
"And what of your own daughter?" My mother lowered her sword as well. "I have only four daughters, none of which you will know by name. You must be mistaken." My mother turned to help my brother to his feet. It happened so fast. My grandfather took his sword and was about to kill my mother. I called out. My mother pulled a knife from her boot as she ducked and shoved it into her own father's stomach. She whispered the words, "I changed my mind, you will die." And then kicked him away from her. My family came filing from the caves, their faces as white as sheets. My mother whipped her knife on my grandfather's pants, "Sorry Matthew, I seemed to have killed our father." Uncle Matthew nodded, "And the world is better for it." My mother picked Tara up from Mary's weak arms, and headed out of the cave.
We picked through the bodies. The fleet was leaving, but they continued to fire cannons at us as we left. All the ships on our small port were in ruins. Every house, except for Grandfather's was trashed on the inside. We found out the reason why. In the parlor lay grandfather, two bullets had gone through his heart. But all around him the bodies of red coats made the tile floors crimson. We knew we had to leave as soon as possible. The family would take what money was left and head for Tortuga. Then, for the first time in years, we would split up. I for one was miserable. My father was dead. Shock was still in my mind and body, but it hit full force in the night when I went outside because I heard noises to see my father's body go up in flames. Uncle Richard, Aunt Ellen's husband was dead. Our family name now meant nothing to anyone. We may have set the rules for years of piracy, but within a day the ships arrived to cart off our things. They were surprised to see living people. One small fleet of three ships showed up to cart off our furniture, but it didn't work very well. They ended up giving us one of their ships, and got themselves an entire island. They owned it now.
It was hard living after that. We arrived at Tortuga with tears in our eyes. Some of the good, respectable pirates nodded to us at the dock. News travels fast. We were able to get rooms at Inns that were relatively close together. My cousin, Caitlin, and daughter of Aunt Ellen, who was now a widow, was my only friend at the time. It was a relief for me when Aunt Ellen decided to stay and live in Tortuga with us. She was like a sister to me and only a year older as well. Uncle James and Aunt Alison, Uncle Stephen and Aunt Megan, along with Uncle Matthew and Aunt Elease, decided to stay and help us before setting off. Nothing was going to be the same. Everyone pitched in to build an Inn and bar in the better part of Tortuga, were people could really live without being shot. Aunt Ellen, Richard Jr., Anthony, David, Caitlin, Michael, and Devin moved into a house next door. And for the next eight years, this was home.
