Secrets of the Caribbean
Written By: Riley Barton
[Chapter Twenty-Six]
The sand shifted beneath the scarred, calloused feet of Bernie Callahan as he walked across its surface, relishing in the cool ocean breeze as it blew past him. This was his daily ritual, to take a slow walk across the beach, collecting any random shell he came across. He bent down, his old knee's cracking unhealthily, and picked up a perfectly formed clam that had not been broken open. He smiled in delight, feeling as if his luck was about to change. He hastily tucked the closed clam into his pocket, gently protecting it with his left hand. He turned to head back for home when something caught his eye. He paused, shielding his eyes with a hand to keep the breeze from blurring his vision with stinging sand. Something was lying on the beach down at the water's edge. He walked towards it, trying to figure out what the thing could be. A beached seal, perhaps? or maybe a large clump of seaweed? Hmph, the man thought. If that's seaweed it's one helluva big clump of it.
He drew nearer and suddenly stopped, his eyes widening in horror. "Oh my," he whispered through his wind-chapped lips. "Oh, dear God, please," he whispered, furiously making his way to the woman lying on the beach in as much haste as his arthritic legs would allow.
The woman was cold to the touch, and at first Bernie thought her to be dead. Upon further inspection, though, he was relieved to find that she still breathed, no matter how faintly. He rolled her over, pushing with all his might, and quickly inspected her for any vital injuries that should prevent him from moving her. The worst of her injuries was a large open cut on her right thigh that was covered in sand, encrusted with salty seawater, and rimmed with dried blood. He winced, shaking his head as a tear rolled down his wrinkled cheek. "Poor dear," he muttered to himself, "poor dear." Her lips were blue and her skin was a shade lower than her lips. Her clothing was torn, not much of it remaining. He could barely distinguish that they had once been nightclothes. Another tear rolled down his cheeks as he thought how big of miracle it was that this girl was alive.
With shaking fingers he removed a thin, reed-like instrument from his coat pocket and lifted it to his lips. Taking a deep breath, he blew into it, letting his fingers move in a rhythmic pattern across the tiny holes cut into the wooden reed's surface. The tune he played was swift and solemn: a tune of distress. He looked frantically about as he played, not stopping once as he waited for the arrival of his good friend Fredrick Marsh. The two had been friends for the past three years, despite the vast gap in age. Fredrick was training to be a physician, and as such had worried about Bernie's health. That was how Bernie's reed flute had been created. If he was ever hurt or needed help, all he needed to do was play the flute Fredrick had made for him.
Five minutes had passed before Bernie saw the tall man running towards him. He waved at his friend, tucking the reed flute back into his pocket.
"Dear Lord, what happened?" Fredrick asked, dropping down beside Bernie. He reached over and touched the girl's cheek, running his hand near the wounded area on her leg and feeling her pulse by means of her wrist. He shook his head, disbelief evident in his baby blue eyes. "It's amazing she's alive, Bern," he whispered, gathering the woman into his arms. "It's a God-given miracle." He straightened, cradling her against his chest. "Your home is the closest. We can take her there."
In his home, Bernie arranged his own bed, turning down the sheets and fluffing the pillows. Fredrick trooped inside after him and set the woman on the bed. She didn't flinch or utter a moan. She was as quiet and still as death. Fredrick dug some money from his coat pocket and shoved them into Bernie's hands. "Go to my house and bring me my bag, then go and buy this woman some warm clothing." Bernie nodded and went without another thought.
Fredrick tried to make her as comfortable as he could, rubbing her arms and massaging her stiff muscles; anything that would put life back in her. He was rubbing her right arm when he noticed something. He stopped and turned her arm so he could see what it was properly. He almost backed away in surprise. It was the letter 'P': the brand of a pirate. His wide eyes looked at the woman's face and he shook his head. How had she ever been influenced by the lives of those rogues and miscreants? He brushed a strand of her cold blonde hair and rubbed it between his fingers. "Pirate or not," he whispered to the room, "she still needs help." He stood and left the room, returning a short while later with a large tub and a bucket of steaming water. He went various times out of the room to retrieve hot water until it was full enough. Gently taking the woman into his arms, he removed the torn scraps of clothing that remained and lifted her into the tub; decency was not on the top of his priority list.
Bernie returned forty-minutes later with the required materials. He gave them to Fredrick and let his friend take over. The young physician did everything he could for her. He cleaned and bandaged her leg, clothed her in warm clothing, and tucked her safely into bed. An hour and a half had passed before Bernie recalled the closed clam he had put in his pocket. Pulling it out, he retrieved a knife and cut the clam open. Fredrick was sitting at the kitchen table, hovering over a cup of warm herbal tea, when Bernie gave a sudden shout of triumph. He jumped, looking at his friend in concern. "You all right, Bern?" he asked.
The old man held his hand out to Fredrick, a beaming smile on his face. "A pearl, Fredrick! There was a pearl in that clam I found." He hugged it to his chest. "This really is my lucky day." He paused then, looking over his shoulder to the woman unconscious in his bed. He slowly nodded, and looked back at his friend. "Pearl," he whispered. "We'll call her Pearl, at least until she wakes up and can tell us her real name."
Fredrick mimicked the nod. "Pearl it is, then. Our diamond in the rough."
Three and a half months later…She absently traced the pirate brand on her arm, willing herself to remember. She wanted to remember, she really did, but she just couldn't. The last memory she could remember was falling into the water… cold… icy cold…
Pearl shook her head and clambered to her feet. Scuffing the sand as she walked, she hugged her arms to her chest and thought. So much of her life was missing, lost into a dark oblivion that was locked with a key she couldn't seem to find. Fredrick and Bernie had tried everything and anything to try and trigger her memory, but nothing had. The pirate brand on her arm was the only link to her past, and it wasn't a very bright one.
The sun was setting in the distance as she neared a small house resting at the top of the beach. She smiled and made her way toward it, the welcoming glow shining out the small square window beckoning her. She stepped up to the door, shaking the sand from her bare feet. She grasped the doorknob, pushed it open, and stepped inside. "Bernie?" she called into the house. She frowned when no one answered back, softly closing the door. She quickly made her way to his bedroom, hoping he was okay.
Bernie's health had been steadily declining over the past month, causing Fredrick to come by twice a day to check up on him. Two days ago, however, Fredrick had left for a short trip to a neighbouring port where he could purchase some more supplies for his line of work as a physician. The physician here just didn't have enough supplies. She had been given the responsibility to look after their old friend while Fredrick was gone. She had not once left the house, but today she just hadn't been able to stand it any longer. She had just had to get out and walk along the beach. The ocean called to her and resisting its call was futile.
"Bernie?" she called again, nudging his bedroom door open. She saw Bernie lying in bed and she took three giant steps to his bedside. "Bernie, are you all right?" She noticed his sweaty forehead and rushed to get a cloth. She wiped away the sweat, feeling his forehead. He was burning up. She growled in anger at her own stupidity and grabbed the glass bottle resting on the bedside table. She removed the cork and placed it at Bernie's lips. "Drink for me, Bern," she whispered softly. "Cummon, old buddy. That's it." She gave him the correct amount of dosage Fredrick had described and replaced the cork. She patted her friend's arm and tucked him into bed. "I'll be back real soon. I'm just going to get the physician."
Pearl ran from the house as fast as she could, hurrying to the physician's house in the center of the port city. Her bare feet snagged on broken glass shards and wooden planks, but she pressed on. As she ran, though, something flashed into her mind: running down various streets in the dark wearing nothing but nightclothes. She was angry at someone… a pirate captain?
Pearl skidded to a stop in the middle of the street, blinking rapidly. Had that been a memory of her past? She closed her eyes again, hoping more memories would flood back. Nothing did. Ignoring the longing in her chest she started running again, reaching the physician's place in less than ten minutes. "Kevin!" she shouted, banging on the door to the physician's home. "Kevin, please open up!"
A light flickered on inside and a woman opened the door. She looked up at Pearl and her face softened. "Pearl, honey, he isn't here. He got a call an hour ago. Is Bernie okay?"
"Bernie's gotten worse, and he has a fever," she said in a rush. "Where can I find Kevin?"
"He went to the wharf. Some fisherman was hurt while on a run-"
But Pearl didn't hear the rest. She was already running down the street to the wharf.
Kevin Richards slowly wound a bandage around the young boy's leg, smiling warmly at the softly crying patient. "You'll be fine, Neal," he said. "Just take it easy for a few days and you'll be as good as new."
The boy forced a smile and nodded, letting his grandfather help him to his feet. "Thank you, sir," he said.
Kevin nodded. "You're most welcome."
"Kevin Richards?"
Kevin looked to the doorway where a lanky man stood, a confused look on his face. "There's a woman out here wanting to see you. She won't take no for an answer and I think she's about to barge in here if you don't-"
Pearl shoved her way into the room, knocking the poor man out of her way. "Kevin, Bernie's got a fever," she gasped out. "You've got to come."
Kevin nodded grimly, giving the fishermen around him brief nods. He followed Pearl off the fishing boat and onto the docks. "When did he come down with the fever?"
"Over twenty minutes ago," she replied, surprisingly able to keep up with his pace. "I had taken a walk on the beach, and when I returned I found him sweating and lying in bed." She ran a hand through her hair. "I shouldn't have been so damn stupid," she grumbled.
Kevin grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "You're not at fault. You've done the best you can. That's all Bernie or Fredrick could ever ask for." He shook his head. "You brought purpose back into their lives. Fredrick's passion in helping people had started to dwindle until Bernie found you washed up on shore."
Pearl blinked as those last few words pulled something to the surface.
---
The sand was coarse against her hands as she pushed herself to her feet. Stumbling to the right, she spat a mouthful of salty ocean water and sand from her mouth. "Damn you, Jack," she whispered, placing a hand on her slightly protruding stomach. "Damn you to Hell if you've killed my child."
---
"Pearl?" Kevin looked at the woman in concern. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you feeling all right?" He may as well have been speaking to a wall. Pearl was in another time and place.
---
A door closed, blocking out the sound of the ocean waves lapping against the hull of the ship. She looked up from the charts on the desk at the tall man walking toward her. She returned her gaze to the charts. "Not now, Jack," she said, scribbling something in a clear space. "I've got to figure this out. Work before play." She felt his hands grip her shoulders and begin to massage them. She paused, smiling at the warmth that spread through her.
"Ye've been workin' on that for the past two hours, Scarlett," he whispered. "Surely you can make time for your captain?"
She rolled her eyes and set the quill back in its correct place. She allowed Jack to turn the chair around, raising an eyebrow at him. "If I never get this done you'll be the one to blame."
His eyes darkened and his lips turned up in a smirk. "Does it look as if I care?"
---
"Scarlett." The name sounded so familiar to her lips. Was that her real name?
"Pearl, what are you talking about?"
Pearl looked up into Kevin's anxious face and blinked. "What?"
"Are you feeling all right? You almost blacked out on me for a second. Is something the matter?"
"I'm remembering," she whispered, gazing out at the ocean to her left.
Understanding came into his eyes. "I knew they would return someday." He placed a hand against her cheek. "Can you make it to Bernie's or do you need to stay here while I go on ahead?"
Bernie. Her eyes widened as she remembered her friend. "No, I'm fine. Let's hurry. I've wasted enough time already."
No more memories were triggered by the time they reached Bernie's home by the beach. Kevin went in first, going directly to Bernie's bedside. He called out to Pearl and told her to bring in a bowl of warm water and some towels. She did so with alacrity, praying that Bernie would be all right. Thus far she hadn't been much help. She brought Kevin the materials he had asked for and stepped to the side, watching. "Is he going to be okay?" she asked, leaning against the wall. Her pose was defiant, mimicking her mindset: she wanted to know, but was she ready to defend her emotions if the news was bad?
Kevin didn't reply for a brief minute. "I'm not sure. For the moment he seems to only have a fever, but nowadays who knows where a fever can lead to?"
Pearl nodded and left the room, feeling abruptly overwhelmed. Something was tugging at the back of her memory and she strained to bring it forward. As large as her concern for Bernie was, she wanted to know of her past just as much. Having such a large, empty past tormented her day and night to the point of near insanity. She felt torn, like she was two different people. One was the Pearl she knew and the other was this unknown pirate. She looked down at the pirate brand on her arm, and it was then that the memory burst forth with a burning touch.
Pirates were pounding on the door, followed shortly after by a tormented scream –Aubrianna. She tore from the room with her sword in hand, cutting into anyone that got in her way. Her feet took her to where she wanted to go. The bedroom door was hanging on by a hinge and the rooms interior was severely ravaged. Her eyes went to the woman slumped down by the bed, and she went to her. She grabbed the older woman's wrist and felt for a pulse. There was none, the woman was dead.
Pearl gasped aloud, clutching at her throat. Her eyes were jammed closed as the memory faded, leaving a horrible aftertaste. So much pain. Had her past been so consumed by it? Was it a life she even wanted to know of? She jumped as she heard the sound of shattering glass, followed shortly after by a gasp for air. She ran for the main bedroom and stormed inside. Kevin was leaning over Bernie, muttering wildly to himself.
"Kevin, what's happened?" Her hands clenched into fists. "Please."
"Pearl, you shouldn't be in here," Kevin said, briefly turning in her direction; his face was drawn. "He's just had a heart attack, Pearl, but please, go into the other room and stay there. I can handle everything from here."
Pearl backed out of the room, not wanting to be there anyway. Bernie had helped her when she needed him, and now he needed her help but she was running from the room like a frightened rabbit. She threw herself onto the sofa and bit her lip hard, trying to hold back the tears. She hated crying, despised it. She felt as if all she ever did was cry. Cry for her forgotten past, for Bernie, for the young children that died when Fredrick had been unable to heal them. Everything.
She tried to sleep, thinking it would block out the terrible realization that Bernie might die. It was something she didn't want to face, something she didn't even want to think about. She lay there for an hour, ignoring any noise that came from the bedroom where Bernie and Kevin were. Sleep soon overcame her, but forgotten memories of a forgotten past all but plagued her dreams.
---
They were running, fast and furiously. Ansgar and his crew were chasing them; they wanted the gem she and Jack Sparrow had stolen from them. She looked back over her shoulder and picked up her pace, matching that of the man running beside her. Those other pirates weren't going to get it. She and Jack came to the large ship docked at the port and two ropes were cast over the side to them. She grabbed one and began to climb, but Jack outdistanced her. He got to the top long before she did, but she pressed on. The baby inside her was weighing her down. She was getting heavier, and her body couldn't seem to take this overexertion.
"Scarlett, toss it to me!"
She looked up at him, knowing full well that their pursuers would reach the ship before she reached the deck; but she wasn't giving up yet. She took another few steps, but Jack called down to her again. She couldn't ignore direct orders from him. He was her captain, after all. She paused and removed the gem from its hiding place between her breasts, tossing it up to him. He grabbed it and stepped away from the bulwark. Taking a deep breath, she continued her climb, moving as fast as her body would allow. Her muscles were screaming and her knees ached.
Suddenly, the rope went slack and she was falling backwards. She let out a scream she couldn't hold back and crashed into the ocean.
---
The moon shone from above and the ocean water lay beneath them as the Lonely Maid made its way to Tortuga. Scarlett leaned forward over the edge of the crow's nest, trying to get a glimpse of a dolphin that might chance to dive nearby. Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Don't lean over too far, Scar," he said. "Don't want you falling over."
She gave him a look. "I'm not going to fall off," she retorted, once again making to lean over the edge.
Jack grinned boyishly, grabbed her shoulder, and shoved her forward. She let out a startled shout as she fell, but, at the last moment, Jack grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back. She closed her eyes as her heart beat fast in her chest. She hadn't felt so scared in years.
"See how easy it is?" Jack whispered. "But as I always promise, I won't let anything happen to you. If you fall, I'll go after you; if you run away, I'll find you; and if you ever hate me, I'll go on loving you anyway."
She looked at him. "I could never hate you."
Jack shrugged. "Who knows what the future might hold?"
---
An older Jack looked up at her from his sitting position on the edge of the bed. "Come on, love, you can't be that bothered with me. I'm just a simple pirate who doesn't know any better."
"That's the entire point, Jack," she whispered. "I hate you for becoming a bloody pirate."
He grabbed her arm and revealed the pirate brand. "But so are you, Scarlett."
---
"No!"
Pearl sat upright, clutching her head and wanting to scream. All these names, all these emotions… they were killing her. She couldn't take it any longer! She wanted to scream, to rant at the top of her lungs. She didn't want to know her past anymore. Her past was filled with broken promises, pain, death, and confusion. Her new life was so much better, and now it, too, was being torn apart. Could she not live anywhere and live happily? Could God be so hateful as to do this to her? She began to cry, shaking. Her head dropped into her hands and she wept, harder than ever before.
Arms wrapped around her, but she barely felt them. She didn't want to know whom it was that was holding her. It could be anyone: this Jack Sparrow from her past memories, Kevin wanting to console her, or even Bernie's ghost. It was of no matter to her. She didn't give a damn. All she wanted to know was what the quickest way to die was. Her life was of no great value to anyone, so where was the point in living?
Soothing words were whispered and she felt another person's tears mingle with hers. She only cried harder, as if she was competing with this other person to see who could cry the hardest and the longest. She knew she would win in the end. No person could have dealt with as much pain and heartache as she had.
"Pearl, look at me."
No. Her name was not Pearl. Her name was not Scarlett. Her name was Mara, meaning bitter. "No."
"Pearl, please."
"My name is not Pearl," she whispered, slowly looking up. Her red-rimmed eyes burned with a deep loathing and evident pain, startling the man sitting before her. She took a shaky inhale of air. "I'm no one." Her hands balled into fists and she slammed them into the chest of the man holding her. "No one!"
The man pulled her into his arms and held her tight. He looked up at the second man sadly and gently shook his head. "You may leave, Kevin," he whispered. "Thanks for everything."
Kevin looked sympathetically at him and then to the crying, broken woman. "Fredrick, if you need anything-"
Fredrick nodded. "I know. Thank you."
Kevin patted his friend on the back and departed, closing the door softly behind him.
Pearl cried herself to sleep that night in Fredrick's arms, muttering to herself about things he could only guess at. He had remained there on the sofa with her, holding her safe from the nightmares and memories that haunted her. He would feel her jerk awake, feel her tears soak through his shirt, and then fall asleep again. It was the longest night of his life. The following morning proved to be a dreary one. The rain came down in torrents, mirroring the tormented emotions in the small house on the docks. He avoided the bedroom where the still body of Bernie lay, keeping the door shut. He lingered in the main room of the house where Pearl tossed back and forth on the sofa, her pretty face scrunched up into a look of anguish. He wanted to soothe her aches, but knew he couldn't. This was a battle he could not heal.
The day came and went, and evening came upon them. The rain fizzled off into a mist, bathing the port of Marcail in an even more dismal feel. Men still went about their duties as normal; Fredrick could hear them shouting at one another as they hauled in ships and pulled in nets full of fish. Life was going on as normal. He was just sitting down with another mug of beer to drown his sorrows in when he heard Pearl stumble to her feet. He rushed into the room just in time to see her walk out the front door. "Pearl!" he called, running after her, his beer forgotten. Her determined pace didn't slow and he had to run to catch up with her. "Hey, where are you going?" he asked, keeping a tight grip on her arm. "I think it's best we stay at the house. Pearl, are you even listening to me?"
She suddenly stooped, staring through the mist. He followed her line of sight, startled to find that the mist had grown worse, and yet seemed very thin in this one section in which Pearl was staring. He could see the large outline of a ship pulling into port. He could heard the shout of its captain calling orders to his crew, and the men on the dock were preparing for this ship's arrival. Pearl began to walk again. She walked across the wharf, the cold of the evening not seeming to affect her. Her barren feet walked across the rain-slicked planks like she was walking on sun-soaked grass. He followed her, stunned at this change.
The men from the large ship were walking down the plank to the docks below, but she just walked past them as if they weren't even there. Some stopped and stared as she walked past. He vaguely watched as one of the men, an older looking man, ran back up to the ship, shouting at someone to come quick. He ignored them, following Pearl. He thought she was going to walk all the way to the end of the wharf, but she suddenly turned and walked up a street. He took after her, concerned and confused.
She walked down random streets, sometimes stopping and staring at a certain building or dark corner, muttering wildly to herself about something or other. He could never quite hear her correctly. He followed her across the port to the poorer side. He soon became familiar with the direction she was going, and was surprised by it. She seemed to be heading for the Anderton estate, it seemed. His assumption was correct when she walked up the hill. What surprised him, though, was that she didn't completely follow the road. Instead, she took a short cut. How she knew that way would be quicker he didn't know, but it was frightening him.
The manor house came into view and she walked right up to the broken down door, torn from its hinges a couple of months ago when pirates had attacked it. The people of Marcail had been shocked at the attack and had been mystified by it. No one had found the pirates after that day. All anyone knew was that the widow who owned it had died and that her only heir had sold the estate as soon as impossible. No one had known who the heir was.
Pearl walked down the torn hallway of the manor and turned into the parlour, a room at the back of the manor. He followed her inside, taking in the broken down wall that had been overrun by weeds and wildflowers. He paused in the doorway, watching as she went to the fireplace and knelt down before it. She picked up a painting that had fallen from its place above the mantle and blew away the dust covering it. The dust swirled about her until it settled. She gently ran her fingers across the canvas, staring at the painted picture. He could barely see that it was of a sparrow flying across a stormy ocean and what looked to be a feather falling from one of its wings. He frowned, not knowing what the significance of the painting was.
"Pearl," he called, his voice shaking in the cold, empty night air. He felt chills run up his spine at the deadness of the house. Why had she come here, and how had she known her way around?
"Fredrick," she whispered, not standing from her kneeling position, "how is it that I know so much about this place and remember a few things, but I can't seem to figure out who I am?" She shakily stood to her feet, leaving the painting on the floor. She took a few steps back, shaking her head. "I don't know if I want to remember or not. A part of me does, but the other doesn't." She looked at him, and he felt his heart break at the despair in her green eyes. "I can't go on not knowing, and this house." She shook her head, looking around. "This house holds the key, as do the people who lived here." She turned and looked at him. "Can you tell me who used to live here, Fredrick?" Her eyes were pleading with him. "Please, tell me who they were."
He hesitated. "Carver and Aubrianna Anderton used to live here. They had a son, I think, but he ran away when he was a teenager."
"Carver?" The name tasted like honey on her tongue and she savoured it. She blinked as she remembered. She had had a son, and his name had been Carver. A light came into her eyes. Her son, Carver, and the father had been- Her eyes widened and a hand went to her forehead. "The son," she whispered, "what was his name?' When Fredrick didn't answer, she glared at him and took a menacing step forward. "Tell me, Fredrick!" she shouted. "What was their son's name!"
"His name used to be Jack Anderton," another voice said, "But now he goes by the name of Captain Jack Sparrow." A man walked into the room, stepping over the piles of rubble that had once been a wall. The slight chink of beads knocking together came to Fredrick's ears and he stared in horror as the infamous pirate captain Jack Sparrow stepped out of the darkness.
A/N: God, that was a whirlwind. Was it a whirlwind for you, too? Laughs insanely That was one helluva ride. Took me a while to write too. Hope you guys enjoyed the twist! Be sure to review or I'll leave you hanging for a week! Wink