The sunlight burnt my eyes and for a moment I stood there, blinking shading
my face with my hand. The deck was a hive of activity, pirates fairly
swarmed over it, each intent on some complicated task that baffled me.
Here; one pulled on a rope that drew up into the heavens, there; one
climbing up the rigging and again here; mopping water into kind of gutter
than ran down the sides of the deck. One man stood with a map in hand, I
assumed him in charge and strode forward to speak with him. Before I had
quite reached the man, he turned and with a kind of horror I realised he
was no man at all, but a woman, dressed in the shabby attire of a sailor.
She looked as surprised as I did.
"Well bless me stars, if I 'adn't quite forgotten about you." She laughed in her lilting Caribbean accent, rolling up the map as she spoke. I smiled wanly, and pressed on with my inquiry.
"Please." I spoke the world with difficulty "Could you tell me why were haven't reached Africa yet – is there something holding us back?"
Again she laughed, and I began to feel quite bewildered, all that had changed in my life seemed to roll over me like a wave, bigger than any that had caused me sickness these past days. The sun was suddenly hotter and bigger, the deck so wet and slick and the smell of salt and sodden wood so strong I could barely stand. My mind felt blank – as it had done while sitting in the cave. Dizzy and confused I reached out for a handhold, found none and began to stumble.
"There now," The woman stopped laughing and took my arm, concern crossing her face. "We are makin' good time, there is a sturdy wind be'ind us and we look to see land in just over three weeks."
"Three weeks?" I asked faintly, my mind still swimming like a fish
"You needn't worry, Jack is a man of 'is word, for all 'is foolishness and 'e will see you home safe." She looked around the deck and seemed to look sad. "If only others 'ad my faith in 'im." I was not interested why people would or would not have faith in Sparrow, yet there was one question I did want to ask.
"Why did he steal me away then?" I put to the woman boldly.
"Wit' Jack, who can say?" She spoke, I thought, in an overly careless voice "No man in 'is right mind would want you around, in my opinion. My guess is you were s'posed to be company fer this long voyage." She sniffed, and again that sad look "though why 'e should steal it from islands I'm sure I don't know. But there now, I can see yer've not taken well to the sea, come 'ere wit' Anamaria and we'll fix you up."
I followed her up the deck, admiring her easy walk, allowed by her male attire. Struggling behind in my long skirts made wet by the deck, I felt almost green with envy. She led me through a small door in the bow of the ship. Inside I was surprised to see a stove, pots, cutlery and a small well- scrubbed table. I gazed around me, Anamaria noticed my wrinkled nose and spoke harshly.
"Well, I'm sure it's not wot yer used to, but it's the best galley yer could hope fer on a pirate ship, even if we ain't got no regular cook" She shot me a haughty look. "Wait here." She left swiftly through the door we had entered.
I sat on a stool, trying not to think about the great smoked joints of beef and bacon that were hanging above my head, engaged in a filthy dance with several dozen flies. The room was an interesting one, however and it was easy to be distracted. It seemed to contain everything a cook was ever likely to need – it a space several times smaller than I could ever imagine a kitchen to be.
Presently Anamaria returned, her dark face red from the effort of rolling a large barrel before. I couldn't help but look downcast.
"Not more beer?"
For a reply, she struck a tap into a knothole in the barrel, and held a cup underneath as the liquid pored out.
"Water!" I cried, unable to contain my delight, to think that I, Catherine Barbrook, should be so happy about a simple thing like water. Anamaria smiled; evidently glad she had provoked such a reaction in me.
"It is a precious resource on any ship, an' more so fer us, so use it sparingly. Yet I am not so much the sailor that I don't know whot a wash in clean water means to a woman."
I later learnt that these shows of what she called 'fem'nine ways' were few and far between with Anamaria. The crew did not expect it of her, and respected her for her hard, mannish attitude.
And it was that night I met the crew for the fist time, after I had washed and eaten breakfast with Anamaria she convinced me to share in her nightly ration of rum. I hesitated, but finally agreed, it seemed preferable to another night listening to the faint sound of Sparrow's snores.
The crew was exactly what I had expected in many ways, and yet in others was completely different from what I had imagined. The were a 'mixed-up lot', the statement of the boatswain Gibbs, gathered from Tortuga by him after he had spent a night drinking with Sparrow and become embroiled in some plot of his. Their ship had not been the Pearl then, but a Navy vessel named 'The Interceptor'. The crew had won the Pearl back in the subsequent adventure, though they seemed unwilling to divulge the details.
There were all shabbily dressed, and their curses would shock you and their scars and deformities would make you shudder, they were cruel and cold-hearted men for the most part. Thought each I learnt, in the weeks I knew them, had a grain of humanity, a dream or desire that drove them and made them human and kind. It is my adventures in these weeks of which I am about to tell you. But I am getting ahead of myself, I will try to give you an idea of what life on the Black Pearl was like, or you will understand little of what I now intend to tell you.
To begin with, life on a pirate ship is not as shambolic as you would image. Pirates cannot afford to be drunk, or intoxicated or lazy when they're are guiding what is, in essence, a heavy piece of wood through deep and treacherous water. To do this, and do it well and safely took much knowledge and no little skill. The steering of the ship alone kept me occupied in a state of confusion for weeks. What was each of the sails for? If the sails propelled us why did we also need oars? What did you do if the wind was in the wrong direction? These are just a sample of the many hundreds of questions that I asked in my first few weeks on the ship. All this I could have easily learnt before, living on an island where nearly all trade was conducted in huge docks, but I had never been interested. Suddenly with nothing else to occupy me, I was determined to learn it all.
This is my understanding of the ship during my time there – I'm sure many sailors would laugh at my interpretation, but more than this I cannot tell you. The black Pearl was not a small ship, but compared to some of the large Naval and trading vessels I had seen in my life it seemed in bad state of repair. There were three masts (named front, main and mizzen from bow to stern) their sails as I believe I've already mentioned were black and in no fit state of repair. The rigging was also rotten in several places and full of holes, I could not watch any time a crew member was required to climb it to reach the crow's nest. The dining room in which I had past my first evening was known as the port deck cabin, the first mate's berth next door being the starboard deck cabin. Below these were the rooms where Jack Sparrow and myself slept. The other cabins were in the bows of the ship (that is, the front) below the galley were our meals were cooked, here Gibbs and several other higher-ranked sailors such as the Master Gunner and Carpenter slept.
The rest of the crew slept below the deck, in a large open space, entered by a hatch in front of the main mast. Here one set of stairs leads you down to the bulk of the lower deck, the other to the brig, which I will describe presently. Benches border each side of the hull in the larger space, and it is here the crew row if we are becalmed. Cannons lie between them, I learned that the Pearl was unusually well armed for a pirate ship – they are generally built for speed. Hammocks are hung from the ceiling and along with the several tables and chairs that adorn the empty middle stretch of deck it is not a wholly unpleasant place. The other staircase leads to a door. Behind it is a small room, most of its space taken up by three iron cubes – this is the brig and ever since I first saw it I was eternally grateful I did not have to spend my first night there, as many other of the pirates captives have. The cabins at the front of the ship are reached from a hatch in the galley. Below this deck, is the hold of the ship is where the supplies and treasures were kept; though despite the dreadful tales about the greed of pirates, stores of both were generally quite low.
The top deck was a relatively simple affair. The space that wasn't taken up by the four boats, canons, anchor chains, rope and various other oddments (their uses a mystery to me) was mostly taken up by pirates. Captain Sparrow usually resided over this shambles rather arrogantly on the poop deck. He always liked to be at the wheel, even if we were dead on course and a telescope and compass were never to be seen out of his hands.
However, as much as I learnt about the life of a sailor and a pirate, there was still one question the crew were unwilling to answer; what we were to do in Africa and why I was being kept onboard the ship.
"Well bless me stars, if I 'adn't quite forgotten about you." She laughed in her lilting Caribbean accent, rolling up the map as she spoke. I smiled wanly, and pressed on with my inquiry.
"Please." I spoke the world with difficulty "Could you tell me why were haven't reached Africa yet – is there something holding us back?"
Again she laughed, and I began to feel quite bewildered, all that had changed in my life seemed to roll over me like a wave, bigger than any that had caused me sickness these past days. The sun was suddenly hotter and bigger, the deck so wet and slick and the smell of salt and sodden wood so strong I could barely stand. My mind felt blank – as it had done while sitting in the cave. Dizzy and confused I reached out for a handhold, found none and began to stumble.
"There now," The woman stopped laughing and took my arm, concern crossing her face. "We are makin' good time, there is a sturdy wind be'ind us and we look to see land in just over three weeks."
"Three weeks?" I asked faintly, my mind still swimming like a fish
"You needn't worry, Jack is a man of 'is word, for all 'is foolishness and 'e will see you home safe." She looked around the deck and seemed to look sad. "If only others 'ad my faith in 'im." I was not interested why people would or would not have faith in Sparrow, yet there was one question I did want to ask.
"Why did he steal me away then?" I put to the woman boldly.
"Wit' Jack, who can say?" She spoke, I thought, in an overly careless voice "No man in 'is right mind would want you around, in my opinion. My guess is you were s'posed to be company fer this long voyage." She sniffed, and again that sad look "though why 'e should steal it from islands I'm sure I don't know. But there now, I can see yer've not taken well to the sea, come 'ere wit' Anamaria and we'll fix you up."
I followed her up the deck, admiring her easy walk, allowed by her male attire. Struggling behind in my long skirts made wet by the deck, I felt almost green with envy. She led me through a small door in the bow of the ship. Inside I was surprised to see a stove, pots, cutlery and a small well- scrubbed table. I gazed around me, Anamaria noticed my wrinkled nose and spoke harshly.
"Well, I'm sure it's not wot yer used to, but it's the best galley yer could hope fer on a pirate ship, even if we ain't got no regular cook" She shot me a haughty look. "Wait here." She left swiftly through the door we had entered.
I sat on a stool, trying not to think about the great smoked joints of beef and bacon that were hanging above my head, engaged in a filthy dance with several dozen flies. The room was an interesting one, however and it was easy to be distracted. It seemed to contain everything a cook was ever likely to need – it a space several times smaller than I could ever imagine a kitchen to be.
Presently Anamaria returned, her dark face red from the effort of rolling a large barrel before. I couldn't help but look downcast.
"Not more beer?"
For a reply, she struck a tap into a knothole in the barrel, and held a cup underneath as the liquid pored out.
"Water!" I cried, unable to contain my delight, to think that I, Catherine Barbrook, should be so happy about a simple thing like water. Anamaria smiled; evidently glad she had provoked such a reaction in me.
"It is a precious resource on any ship, an' more so fer us, so use it sparingly. Yet I am not so much the sailor that I don't know whot a wash in clean water means to a woman."
I later learnt that these shows of what she called 'fem'nine ways' were few and far between with Anamaria. The crew did not expect it of her, and respected her for her hard, mannish attitude.
And it was that night I met the crew for the fist time, after I had washed and eaten breakfast with Anamaria she convinced me to share in her nightly ration of rum. I hesitated, but finally agreed, it seemed preferable to another night listening to the faint sound of Sparrow's snores.
The crew was exactly what I had expected in many ways, and yet in others was completely different from what I had imagined. The were a 'mixed-up lot', the statement of the boatswain Gibbs, gathered from Tortuga by him after he had spent a night drinking with Sparrow and become embroiled in some plot of his. Their ship had not been the Pearl then, but a Navy vessel named 'The Interceptor'. The crew had won the Pearl back in the subsequent adventure, though they seemed unwilling to divulge the details.
There were all shabbily dressed, and their curses would shock you and their scars and deformities would make you shudder, they were cruel and cold-hearted men for the most part. Thought each I learnt, in the weeks I knew them, had a grain of humanity, a dream or desire that drove them and made them human and kind. It is my adventures in these weeks of which I am about to tell you. But I am getting ahead of myself, I will try to give you an idea of what life on the Black Pearl was like, or you will understand little of what I now intend to tell you.
To begin with, life on a pirate ship is not as shambolic as you would image. Pirates cannot afford to be drunk, or intoxicated or lazy when they're are guiding what is, in essence, a heavy piece of wood through deep and treacherous water. To do this, and do it well and safely took much knowledge and no little skill. The steering of the ship alone kept me occupied in a state of confusion for weeks. What was each of the sails for? If the sails propelled us why did we also need oars? What did you do if the wind was in the wrong direction? These are just a sample of the many hundreds of questions that I asked in my first few weeks on the ship. All this I could have easily learnt before, living on an island where nearly all trade was conducted in huge docks, but I had never been interested. Suddenly with nothing else to occupy me, I was determined to learn it all.
This is my understanding of the ship during my time there – I'm sure many sailors would laugh at my interpretation, but more than this I cannot tell you. The black Pearl was not a small ship, but compared to some of the large Naval and trading vessels I had seen in my life it seemed in bad state of repair. There were three masts (named front, main and mizzen from bow to stern) their sails as I believe I've already mentioned were black and in no fit state of repair. The rigging was also rotten in several places and full of holes, I could not watch any time a crew member was required to climb it to reach the crow's nest. The dining room in which I had past my first evening was known as the port deck cabin, the first mate's berth next door being the starboard deck cabin. Below these were the rooms where Jack Sparrow and myself slept. The other cabins were in the bows of the ship (that is, the front) below the galley were our meals were cooked, here Gibbs and several other higher-ranked sailors such as the Master Gunner and Carpenter slept.
The rest of the crew slept below the deck, in a large open space, entered by a hatch in front of the main mast. Here one set of stairs leads you down to the bulk of the lower deck, the other to the brig, which I will describe presently. Benches border each side of the hull in the larger space, and it is here the crew row if we are becalmed. Cannons lie between them, I learned that the Pearl was unusually well armed for a pirate ship – they are generally built for speed. Hammocks are hung from the ceiling and along with the several tables and chairs that adorn the empty middle stretch of deck it is not a wholly unpleasant place. The other staircase leads to a door. Behind it is a small room, most of its space taken up by three iron cubes – this is the brig and ever since I first saw it I was eternally grateful I did not have to spend my first night there, as many other of the pirates captives have. The cabins at the front of the ship are reached from a hatch in the galley. Below this deck, is the hold of the ship is where the supplies and treasures were kept; though despite the dreadful tales about the greed of pirates, stores of both were generally quite low.
The top deck was a relatively simple affair. The space that wasn't taken up by the four boats, canons, anchor chains, rope and various other oddments (their uses a mystery to me) was mostly taken up by pirates. Captain Sparrow usually resided over this shambles rather arrogantly on the poop deck. He always liked to be at the wheel, even if we were dead on course and a telescope and compass were never to be seen out of his hands.
However, as much as I learnt about the life of a sailor and a pirate, there was still one question the crew were unwilling to answer; what we were to do in Africa and why I was being kept onboard the ship.