Usual disclaimers... blah!
You girls have been good... so here are six chapters today... I really must get the flu more often!
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"Captain?" Matthew Ferneham looked up at this quartermaster, placing the book that he was reading to one side. "She has touched nothing again Sir," he said apologetically. "Not even the water..."
Matthew sighed and shook his head. He had promised Stephen Waike that she would be delivered alive, but she seemed determined to die. "Bring her here," he ordered. "We will force her to eat if we must... see that fresh food and water is brought to my cabin as well."
"Aye Captain," the man replied, turning and stomping along the deck.
Sighing heavily, Matthew rose, picking up his book and tucking it beneath the pillow of his bunk. "Well Mister Shakespeare," he smiled, "we will have to learn of the fate of Perdita another time..." He frowned on hearing a commotion onboard, striding from the cabin to find his prisoner half- concealed beneath the bodies of two of his crew. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded.
"She's a crazy woman Captain," one of the men looked up, trying to prevent Catherine wriggling beneath him. "Ow! Watch her Mark, she bites!"
"Well?" Matthew pressed.
"Damn fool woman tried to throw herself overboard, Sir," he explained, cautiously hauling her to her feet. He held her tightly, her arm tight behind her back, gradually adding more pressure until she stopped kicking.
Matthew sighed as he realised what she probably intended. The sea was rough and by the time they had managed to turn the ship she would most likely have been lost to view... and with no land in sight she would certainly have drowned. He walked forward, staring angrily at her. "Never," he shouted, "never have I seen a woman so determined to die!" He poked her in the chest with his finger. "But I gave my word to Mister Waike that you would reach the Americas alive and by the heavens you will do so!" He turned to his man. "Take her to my cabin Walker, but see she is restrained..."
"Aye Sir," he acknowledged, man-handling Catherine through the cabin doors and forcing her to sit. Fearing another outburst he quickly fastened the chain on her ankle about the stout leg of the table. It was bolted to the cabin floor and there was no way that she would be moving that. He glanced up as Captain Ferneham entered and made to leave.
"Hold a minute," Matthew ordered, placing the food and drink on the table before her. "Fetch some rope and return." He looked to Catherine. "Mistress... what is your name?"
"My name matters to nobody but myself," she said bitterly.
"But I must call you something..." he argued – even her papers had not said what her name was. He was unsurprised when she did not answer. "Alright, if you will not speak then I will name you myself," he decided, his eyes falling to the spine of his book poking out beneath his pillow – why did his characters have to have such outlandish names. He paused, smiling, suddenly remembering the name of the playwright's wife. "I will address you as Anne," he declared.
Catherine snorted derisively.
Matthew ignored her. "I will ask you one time politely – please eat." He nodded to Jacob Walker who had returned and stood behind her. Before she could react her hands were grabbed and tied tightly to the chair. "If that is the way you wish it," he sighed. "Hold her head."
Unable to move, Catherine tried to bite him as he forced her mouth open, pouring in some of the water before holding her nose and making her swallow. She coughed, some of it going the wrong way, hardly given time to recover before he poured more.
"You will drink and you will eat my dear Anne," he grimaced, snatching his hand back as she made yet another attempt to bite him. He snapped, slapping her face and adding yet another set of bruises to those already purpling her skin. Almost immediately he regretted his actions, watching as tears welled again in her eyes. "Mistress," he said softly. "If I release your hands, will you please eat..."
Catherine knew it was hopeless to fight, realising that if she did not eat then they would force her in much the same way as they had made her drink. She would not be permitted to take her own life, that much was abundantly clear. Sniffing she nodded.
"Good," he smiled. "Release her hands Walker and leave us," he ordered, waiting whilst his crewman obeyed before sitting opposite to Catherine. "I do not know about you, but I am most definitely hungry!" He piled a plate with food and pushed it towards her. "Eat."
Reluctantly Catherine ate, the taste of the food nearly choking her, but he did not let up until she had cleared the plate and had drunk two tumblers of water. When she had finished he nodded. "If I return you to the hold, will I have the same problems as earlier?"
"Probably," she replied quietly.
Although he was astonished by her admission, he hid his reaction. "Well in that case you will stay here," Matthew announced. "I will arrange a longer length of chain so you can reach the head through there." He pointed to a side door. "And I will bring you some blankets. It will likely get cold mid-Ocean." He paused. "Excuse me, but I have duties." He rose, leaving her sitting there as he went to take the helm, puzzling over his strange prisoner.
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When he returned to the cabin that evening he was surprised to find Catherine already asleep, curled up under the blankets. Her eyes were puffy and he suspected that she had been crying again. He sat for a moment, staring at her, wishing he knew who she was and wondering if he could turn that to his advantage. Once he had delivered her he would make some enquiries... a female, red-haired pirate with a tattoo of a swallow skimming the waves in front of a sun. "Goodnight Anne," he muttered, heading to his bunk. For a moment he considered reading, but it was late, so he placed the book carefully on the floor and climbed beneath the blankets. Perdita would have to wait.
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You girls have been good... so here are six chapters today... I really must get the flu more often!
###
"Captain?" Matthew Ferneham looked up at this quartermaster, placing the book that he was reading to one side. "She has touched nothing again Sir," he said apologetically. "Not even the water..."
Matthew sighed and shook his head. He had promised Stephen Waike that she would be delivered alive, but she seemed determined to die. "Bring her here," he ordered. "We will force her to eat if we must... see that fresh food and water is brought to my cabin as well."
"Aye Captain," the man replied, turning and stomping along the deck.
Sighing heavily, Matthew rose, picking up his book and tucking it beneath the pillow of his bunk. "Well Mister Shakespeare," he smiled, "we will have to learn of the fate of Perdita another time..." He frowned on hearing a commotion onboard, striding from the cabin to find his prisoner half- concealed beneath the bodies of two of his crew. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded.
"She's a crazy woman Captain," one of the men looked up, trying to prevent Catherine wriggling beneath him. "Ow! Watch her Mark, she bites!"
"Well?" Matthew pressed.
"Damn fool woman tried to throw herself overboard, Sir," he explained, cautiously hauling her to her feet. He held her tightly, her arm tight behind her back, gradually adding more pressure until she stopped kicking.
Matthew sighed as he realised what she probably intended. The sea was rough and by the time they had managed to turn the ship she would most likely have been lost to view... and with no land in sight she would certainly have drowned. He walked forward, staring angrily at her. "Never," he shouted, "never have I seen a woman so determined to die!" He poked her in the chest with his finger. "But I gave my word to Mister Waike that you would reach the Americas alive and by the heavens you will do so!" He turned to his man. "Take her to my cabin Walker, but see she is restrained..."
"Aye Sir," he acknowledged, man-handling Catherine through the cabin doors and forcing her to sit. Fearing another outburst he quickly fastened the chain on her ankle about the stout leg of the table. It was bolted to the cabin floor and there was no way that she would be moving that. He glanced up as Captain Ferneham entered and made to leave.
"Hold a minute," Matthew ordered, placing the food and drink on the table before her. "Fetch some rope and return." He looked to Catherine. "Mistress... what is your name?"
"My name matters to nobody but myself," she said bitterly.
"But I must call you something..." he argued – even her papers had not said what her name was. He was unsurprised when she did not answer. "Alright, if you will not speak then I will name you myself," he decided, his eyes falling to the spine of his book poking out beneath his pillow – why did his characters have to have such outlandish names. He paused, smiling, suddenly remembering the name of the playwright's wife. "I will address you as Anne," he declared.
Catherine snorted derisively.
Matthew ignored her. "I will ask you one time politely – please eat." He nodded to Jacob Walker who had returned and stood behind her. Before she could react her hands were grabbed and tied tightly to the chair. "If that is the way you wish it," he sighed. "Hold her head."
Unable to move, Catherine tried to bite him as he forced her mouth open, pouring in some of the water before holding her nose and making her swallow. She coughed, some of it going the wrong way, hardly given time to recover before he poured more.
"You will drink and you will eat my dear Anne," he grimaced, snatching his hand back as she made yet another attempt to bite him. He snapped, slapping her face and adding yet another set of bruises to those already purpling her skin. Almost immediately he regretted his actions, watching as tears welled again in her eyes. "Mistress," he said softly. "If I release your hands, will you please eat..."
Catherine knew it was hopeless to fight, realising that if she did not eat then they would force her in much the same way as they had made her drink. She would not be permitted to take her own life, that much was abundantly clear. Sniffing she nodded.
"Good," he smiled. "Release her hands Walker and leave us," he ordered, waiting whilst his crewman obeyed before sitting opposite to Catherine. "I do not know about you, but I am most definitely hungry!" He piled a plate with food and pushed it towards her. "Eat."
Reluctantly Catherine ate, the taste of the food nearly choking her, but he did not let up until she had cleared the plate and had drunk two tumblers of water. When she had finished he nodded. "If I return you to the hold, will I have the same problems as earlier?"
"Probably," she replied quietly.
Although he was astonished by her admission, he hid his reaction. "Well in that case you will stay here," Matthew announced. "I will arrange a longer length of chain so you can reach the head through there." He pointed to a side door. "And I will bring you some blankets. It will likely get cold mid-Ocean." He paused. "Excuse me, but I have duties." He rose, leaving her sitting there as he went to take the helm, puzzling over his strange prisoner.
###
When he returned to the cabin that evening he was surprised to find Catherine already asleep, curled up under the blankets. Her eyes were puffy and he suspected that she had been crying again. He sat for a moment, staring at her, wishing he knew who she was and wondering if he could turn that to his advantage. Once he had delivered her he would make some enquiries... a female, red-haired pirate with a tattoo of a swallow skimming the waves in front of a sun. "Goodnight Anne," he muttered, heading to his bunk. For a moment he considered reading, but it was late, so he placed the book carefully on the floor and climbed beneath the blankets. Perdita would have to wait.
###