"Now love, yer 'ave a choice 'ere." The pirate grinned slyly at me as we
stood in his quarters. In the flickering candle light I could see he was
not a young man, perhaps in his thirties, his flamboyant foppishness
betrayed by the blood smeared on his sword hilt and the gun tucked into his
belt. "Yer can stay in my rooms 'ere in the lap o' luxury," He gestured
expansively around him. "Or yer can sleep in the brig." He finished,
wrinkling his nose as he spoke the word.
"I don't bargain with criminals." I spoke with all the determination and conviction I could muster. I stood, trembling with fright "Especially when I do not even know their name."
"Captain Jack Sparrow, at yer service" Again that slow, mocking bow "And am I to learn your name?"
"Miss Barbrook" I replied shortly, a flare of anger suddenly erupting. "And what is the name of this ghastly little tub you have dragged me onto?" Immediately I saw I had made a mistake. Jack Sparrow stepped toward me, his eyes like thunder. He pulled out his pistol once more and, for the first time I noticed, pulled the flintlock back. "Don't presume to insult the Black Pearl, you prim, simpering sow." He lowered the gun very slightly "Which is it to be."
"Not the brig." I gulped out, my eyes fixed upon the now lowered gun.
"Marvellous, follow me then." He extended a hand in his oddly elegant style, I did not move. "Oh come, come Miss. Barbrook. This will not do. I'm glad to have taught you some manners, but I didn't bring you aboard to play a death mute."
"Then why did you bring me?" I asked, backing off, half-afraid of the answer.
"Don't be so arrogant Miss. Barbrook, yer quite safe wiv' me. All will be revealed in time" His golden, shark-like smile did little to reassure me. "I'll show you to yer quarters." He held out his hand once more, and once more I made no move to take it. He left the small dining room not by the doors panelled with glass that lead to the deck, but through a smaller one, down some narrow dark stairs. I followed, wondering what quarters a captain of a pirate ship would deem acceptable for a young lady. He led me into a cabin, where he stumbled for a candle, lit it (though it shed little light). We went through another door into a smaller cabin, with no windows. Jack Sparrow lit the wall mounted candles and I saw the cabin was neatly, though sparsely furnished. A wash stand stood in one corner; there was narrow bunk built into the sloping wall, a threadbare rug on the floor and other assorted oddments of furniture. The whole room was musty, the surfaces thick with dust and I wondered why it had been left unused for so long.
Jack Sparrow had taken hold of my hand to guide me down the steep, narrow staircase and I tried to shake him off now. But he held fast and pulled me close to him. I believe this is the first time I felt truly alone - away from home; stolen aboard a lawless ship, never to see my family, my house or my dear little island again. He leant close to me, and once more I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He seemed to hesitate for a minute and then left the room, muttering 'Sweetdreams, Miss. Barbrook."
Not knowing what else to do, I pulled up the covers of the bunk and crawled under, silencing my sobs with the bolster.
The next morning I was woken, with puffy eyes and a pain in my head, by the sound of gulls crying their harsh guttural cry. I came to, the memories of what I had hoped had been a bad dream came trickling back.
The night before I had thought the cabin windowless, but now I could see two pairs of shutters on one wall. I opened them – the view was a disheartening one – empty ocean as far as I could see and the sky scattered with patchy could. For a while I stared at this dismal sight, wondering what I could do – a hundred impossible plans flittered across my mind. The sun rose beyond the vast blue horizon and I realised escape was impossible while at sea.
Strangely, once I had resigned myself to this, I felt slightly more cheerful. Not wanting to sit, staring pitifully outside like some melodramatic heroine I made to tidy my hair, overnight pins had become dislodged and my thick dark curls hung about me like a tangled cloud. Try as I might, I could not smooth it, and my eyes pricked with tears and I pulled in vain at the pins and knots.
Abandoning my hair, I took hold of my courage and ventured beyond the door to the cabin I had passed through the previous night. It was another sleeping quarter, not dissimilar to mine, save the furniture, which was on a rather a grander scale. Yet no rugs adorned the floor and the shutters remained closed – letting in only small lines of light that played around the flakes of dust in the room. I resolutely pulled them back then wished I had not.
On the bed, naked save his breeches, was Captain Jack Sparrow. My first thought was to retreat back to my berth, but the pirate awoke, with a groan, before I could move. His eyes seemed to focus on me, after a time and, his voice low as if he had a cough; he spoke with a grimace.
"Oh, right, you," He smiled wanly. "Give a man a little privacy, can't yer, love?"
"I would be pleased to grant you all the privacy in the world, as soon as you return me to my home!" In the pale early morning light, I noticed how pallid his face looked and felt no fear of this obviously drunken fool. He frowned as if something pained him and clambered to the end of the bed with an odd, jolting yet graceful gait I had noticed the night before, but had then attributed it to drink.
"Look love, I can't take yer 'ome jest at the moment. Jest sit tight 'ere while we go on our merry way round abouts and I promise we'll return you safe and sound" He hesitated. "Eventually. Do we have an accord?" He stuck out his hand as if to seal a bargain.
"Eventually?" I repeated "Mister S..."
"Cap'n."
"Captain Sparrow, where exactly to we sail for?"
"To the West Coast of Africa, trading out there has become quite the fashion fer young merchants such as meself."
I sneered, but as I did my heart sank – Africa! That could have been the other side of the world for all I knew – how would I ever get home?
And yet I reached out and took his hand, what else could I do? His word was the only thing I had. As we shook, he grinned his wide, cunning grin at me. "I knew yer'd warm up to me."
****
So we set out across the Atlantic Ocean. I had made this crossing before, but was too young to remember. For the first few days I was sick as a dog, the pitching of the boat in the open sea was the worst sensation I have ever felt. I kept to my room throughout this time, and even after the sickness had died down I was loathed to venture out. Sparrow would check on me periodically laughing first at my green face and later at my refusals to join the crew for meals (he would bring me scraps – and foul things they were). He was never overly cruel, however, and often urged me to 'make me'self comfor'ble' on the Black Pearl.
I vowed to stay in my cabin and wait for our return to Barbados. But gradually I grew bored of the same view from my windows. The air seemed thick – my bedsheets were creased and stiff from sweat, my hair hung limply from my head and I felt I should go mad if I stayed in their much longer.
The voyage seemed to be taking weeks and I told myself I would simply venture on deck to inquire why we were not making better time. I was never brought water to drink, only foul weak beer and when I asked Sparrow to bring me some to wash with when he brought my breakfast he laughed so long and loud I could see every one of his gold teeth.
"Yer think we can spare water for yer vanity – bless yer green 'eart, yer'll soon learn."
I pursed my lips and walked smartly past him – my first visit to the deck since the night I arrived.
"I don't bargain with criminals." I spoke with all the determination and conviction I could muster. I stood, trembling with fright "Especially when I do not even know their name."
"Captain Jack Sparrow, at yer service" Again that slow, mocking bow "And am I to learn your name?"
"Miss Barbrook" I replied shortly, a flare of anger suddenly erupting. "And what is the name of this ghastly little tub you have dragged me onto?" Immediately I saw I had made a mistake. Jack Sparrow stepped toward me, his eyes like thunder. He pulled out his pistol once more and, for the first time I noticed, pulled the flintlock back. "Don't presume to insult the Black Pearl, you prim, simpering sow." He lowered the gun very slightly "Which is it to be."
"Not the brig." I gulped out, my eyes fixed upon the now lowered gun.
"Marvellous, follow me then." He extended a hand in his oddly elegant style, I did not move. "Oh come, come Miss. Barbrook. This will not do. I'm glad to have taught you some manners, but I didn't bring you aboard to play a death mute."
"Then why did you bring me?" I asked, backing off, half-afraid of the answer.
"Don't be so arrogant Miss. Barbrook, yer quite safe wiv' me. All will be revealed in time" His golden, shark-like smile did little to reassure me. "I'll show you to yer quarters." He held out his hand once more, and once more I made no move to take it. He left the small dining room not by the doors panelled with glass that lead to the deck, but through a smaller one, down some narrow dark stairs. I followed, wondering what quarters a captain of a pirate ship would deem acceptable for a young lady. He led me into a cabin, where he stumbled for a candle, lit it (though it shed little light). We went through another door into a smaller cabin, with no windows. Jack Sparrow lit the wall mounted candles and I saw the cabin was neatly, though sparsely furnished. A wash stand stood in one corner; there was narrow bunk built into the sloping wall, a threadbare rug on the floor and other assorted oddments of furniture. The whole room was musty, the surfaces thick with dust and I wondered why it had been left unused for so long.
Jack Sparrow had taken hold of my hand to guide me down the steep, narrow staircase and I tried to shake him off now. But he held fast and pulled me close to him. I believe this is the first time I felt truly alone - away from home; stolen aboard a lawless ship, never to see my family, my house or my dear little island again. He leant close to me, and once more I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He seemed to hesitate for a minute and then left the room, muttering 'Sweetdreams, Miss. Barbrook."
Not knowing what else to do, I pulled up the covers of the bunk and crawled under, silencing my sobs with the bolster.
The next morning I was woken, with puffy eyes and a pain in my head, by the sound of gulls crying their harsh guttural cry. I came to, the memories of what I had hoped had been a bad dream came trickling back.
The night before I had thought the cabin windowless, but now I could see two pairs of shutters on one wall. I opened them – the view was a disheartening one – empty ocean as far as I could see and the sky scattered with patchy could. For a while I stared at this dismal sight, wondering what I could do – a hundred impossible plans flittered across my mind. The sun rose beyond the vast blue horizon and I realised escape was impossible while at sea.
Strangely, once I had resigned myself to this, I felt slightly more cheerful. Not wanting to sit, staring pitifully outside like some melodramatic heroine I made to tidy my hair, overnight pins had become dislodged and my thick dark curls hung about me like a tangled cloud. Try as I might, I could not smooth it, and my eyes pricked with tears and I pulled in vain at the pins and knots.
Abandoning my hair, I took hold of my courage and ventured beyond the door to the cabin I had passed through the previous night. It was another sleeping quarter, not dissimilar to mine, save the furniture, which was on a rather a grander scale. Yet no rugs adorned the floor and the shutters remained closed – letting in only small lines of light that played around the flakes of dust in the room. I resolutely pulled them back then wished I had not.
On the bed, naked save his breeches, was Captain Jack Sparrow. My first thought was to retreat back to my berth, but the pirate awoke, with a groan, before I could move. His eyes seemed to focus on me, after a time and, his voice low as if he had a cough; he spoke with a grimace.
"Oh, right, you," He smiled wanly. "Give a man a little privacy, can't yer, love?"
"I would be pleased to grant you all the privacy in the world, as soon as you return me to my home!" In the pale early morning light, I noticed how pallid his face looked and felt no fear of this obviously drunken fool. He frowned as if something pained him and clambered to the end of the bed with an odd, jolting yet graceful gait I had noticed the night before, but had then attributed it to drink.
"Look love, I can't take yer 'ome jest at the moment. Jest sit tight 'ere while we go on our merry way round abouts and I promise we'll return you safe and sound" He hesitated. "Eventually. Do we have an accord?" He stuck out his hand as if to seal a bargain.
"Eventually?" I repeated "Mister S..."
"Cap'n."
"Captain Sparrow, where exactly to we sail for?"
"To the West Coast of Africa, trading out there has become quite the fashion fer young merchants such as meself."
I sneered, but as I did my heart sank – Africa! That could have been the other side of the world for all I knew – how would I ever get home?
And yet I reached out and took his hand, what else could I do? His word was the only thing I had. As we shook, he grinned his wide, cunning grin at me. "I knew yer'd warm up to me."
****
So we set out across the Atlantic Ocean. I had made this crossing before, but was too young to remember. For the first few days I was sick as a dog, the pitching of the boat in the open sea was the worst sensation I have ever felt. I kept to my room throughout this time, and even after the sickness had died down I was loathed to venture out. Sparrow would check on me periodically laughing first at my green face and later at my refusals to join the crew for meals (he would bring me scraps – and foul things they were). He was never overly cruel, however, and often urged me to 'make me'self comfor'ble' on the Black Pearl.
I vowed to stay in my cabin and wait for our return to Barbados. But gradually I grew bored of the same view from my windows. The air seemed thick – my bedsheets were creased and stiff from sweat, my hair hung limply from my head and I felt I should go mad if I stayed in their much longer.
The voyage seemed to be taking weeks and I told myself I would simply venture on deck to inquire why we were not making better time. I was never brought water to drink, only foul weak beer and when I asked Sparrow to bring me some to wash with when he brought my breakfast he laughed so long and loud I could see every one of his gold teeth.
"Yer think we can spare water for yer vanity – bless yer green 'eart, yer'll soon learn."
I pursed my lips and walked smartly past him – my first visit to the deck since the night I arrived.