A/N thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far!! I really really appreciate
it. So once again many thanks!! ^_^
Chapter Three
Now as I sit here, still clutching the gold piece, Roberto failed to take from me. It symbolises the start of something new, or perhaps me noticing that something had changed ever since finding Jack washed up on the beach.
The guards are sleeping now, I can hear them snoring and it is greatly distracting my work. How am I supposed to remember and write such accurate details when they are clogging up my mind with their pig like noises?
The sun is getting higher with every word I write. It is strange that the sun, which usually shows life, is symbolising my death getting nearer and nearer. But once more I am straying from the point, thanks to the mindless snores of my watchful guards.
I must press on with my story, for I have little time left.
It was not long after the news of Jack's runaway when we left England for the Caribbean. My mother made a big fuss about the loss of court, and my father about the loss of his land, but the pull of the Caribbean was too great to avoid.
The King had asked any families of high status, willing to leave England to go. He made my father governor of a small port side town called Port Royal. For his loyalty, my father was to be richly rewarded, and our house in the Caribbean was to be at least twice the size of the one we had in England.
The crossing was of no consequence, nothing of interest happened. My mother was dreadfully seasick, and kept to her cabin. My father worried of his new responsibilities in 'cleaning' the crime filled Port Royal. But I spent my days contentedly, watching the waves crash against the side of our ship, dreaming of the pirates, that too sailed it's waters. I desperately hoped to cross their path on the high seas. But the crew set me straight.
"If you crossed the path of a pirate, young miss, it would be the last thing ye ever did." They told me.
However we arrived in Port Royal without meeting a single corsair. The house we were given was beautiful, the white pillars, were engraved with intricate patterns, the plants climbed the walls, and the balconies overlooked the luscious gardens at both the front and back of the house. My parents were pleased with the house, and I suppose I was in some ways, but I could not help comparing it to my home back in England.
My father settled quickly into the roll of governor, my mother as governor's wife. But I could not settle so swiftly. I wandered the crime filled streets, watching the prostitutes as they openly sold their bodies on the streets. Glancing around me as the men filed out of the pubs as drunk as ever, and pick pockets roamed the streets stealing anything they could get their hands on.
The docks were also an eventful place, I loved watching as the ships docked, and the worried wives, daughters and mothers scurried around in relief for the safety of their sailors.
Crime had not decreased in the town since our arrival, but it seemed quieter, less blatant street crimes. My mother was enjoying her place in society with the finest ladies in Port Royal. We seemed to have reached a groove in life, and were happy to stay in it.
And the arrival of a certain someone came to threaten our position in the groove. Roberto, now seventeen, announced his arrival, only days before he reached Port Royal. My mother was pushed to prepare the spare room for him, and my father eager to have everything in order for the arrival of his, well it was a complicated relationship, but for the arrival of Roberto.
On his first impression of Port Royal, Roberto voiced his doubts of our being truly happy away from our native England. My mother shrugged his doubts aside with happy conviction that she loved Port Royal. My father, too, added a few words of praise. Roberto turned to me, for my opinion. "Port Royal is lovely, but it has one fault. It is and never will be England." I said, with a curtsy. I left the group to argue it out amongst themselves. It really didn't concern me what they thought of Port Royal.
I tried to avoid Roberto, he had not changed from the seven year old I had once hated. He was still as forceful, arrogant and as annoying as ever.
Everyday he was there, to join me on my walk, to accompany me to the library, or on my morning errands. My mother described his attentions as sweet. But there were a million people I would rather have attentions from then Roberto.
My father was sceptical, clearly he imagined a better match for his daughter then the tearaway grandson of a distant cousin, but it was equally clear that he liked Roberto. So without fortune or name, Roberto was still a favourite with my father.
"Where are you off to, Theo?" Roberto asked.
"Nowhere special, do excuse me."
"Well, I'll come with you."
"Thank you but I would prefer to be on my own."
"Nonsense, besides I would not trust to leave you on your own."
"I beg your pardon." I said, shocked.
"I mean no offence meant, my dearest Theo. Your father is doing an excellent job cleaning Port Royal, but it is still dangerous for a young women to walk alone."
"I thank you for your concern, Roberto, but no one would dare touch me." I began to walk off, but he grabbed my arm.
"Where you off to?" He repeated.
"I'm going for a walk to the docks."
"I'll come with you."
"What part of no thank you don't you understand, Roberto?"
"The no part." He said, with a grin.
"Roberto." My father called through the open study window.
I grinned. "Looks like your wanted."
He scowled as he turned back to the house. I set off down the road with a sigh of relief. It was not that I disliked Roberto, but I had no opinion of him. I neither liked nor hated my arrogant cousin. He was certainly a good looking man, with definite charm to his countenance, and a certain likeable quality. But I refused his charms, and he was determined to tease me with his attentions.
I fumed as I turned by the boy and walked under the arch of trees to the docks.
A long awaited merchant ship had arrived, the docks were covered with relieved mothers, wives and children. I happily dispersed myself in the crowd, watching as the happy couples embraced with relief.
Then I caught sight of the ship, with shock. It was 'listing near the scrubbers', had taken a thorough beating, and was close to sinking. How on earth had the ship ended up in such a state?
Then I heard the hurried conversation of a mother and her sailor son. What I heard chilled me to the very bone.
"It were pirates, mama, they attacked us on the way back from Tortuga." He said.
"Pirates." She squealed.
The seventeen year old nodded. "Yeah, we were gonna fight 'em, but you won't believe who it was."
"Dear?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow."
"Captain Jack Sparrow!" The mother exclaimed.
"That's right and you've heard the tales of that pirate, you don't mess with Captain Jack Sparrow."
I couldn't believe it, I hadn't thought of Jack for years, but now? No way, it must be a different Jack Sparrow, I thought miserably. I fought my way out through the crowd.
I couldn't believe it, I collapsed on to a near by bench. How could that innocent stable boy, washed up on a Cornish beach turn into a bloody thirsty pirate?
Chapter Three
Now as I sit here, still clutching the gold piece, Roberto failed to take from me. It symbolises the start of something new, or perhaps me noticing that something had changed ever since finding Jack washed up on the beach.
The guards are sleeping now, I can hear them snoring and it is greatly distracting my work. How am I supposed to remember and write such accurate details when they are clogging up my mind with their pig like noises?
The sun is getting higher with every word I write. It is strange that the sun, which usually shows life, is symbolising my death getting nearer and nearer. But once more I am straying from the point, thanks to the mindless snores of my watchful guards.
I must press on with my story, for I have little time left.
It was not long after the news of Jack's runaway when we left England for the Caribbean. My mother made a big fuss about the loss of court, and my father about the loss of his land, but the pull of the Caribbean was too great to avoid.
The King had asked any families of high status, willing to leave England to go. He made my father governor of a small port side town called Port Royal. For his loyalty, my father was to be richly rewarded, and our house in the Caribbean was to be at least twice the size of the one we had in England.
The crossing was of no consequence, nothing of interest happened. My mother was dreadfully seasick, and kept to her cabin. My father worried of his new responsibilities in 'cleaning' the crime filled Port Royal. But I spent my days contentedly, watching the waves crash against the side of our ship, dreaming of the pirates, that too sailed it's waters. I desperately hoped to cross their path on the high seas. But the crew set me straight.
"If you crossed the path of a pirate, young miss, it would be the last thing ye ever did." They told me.
However we arrived in Port Royal without meeting a single corsair. The house we were given was beautiful, the white pillars, were engraved with intricate patterns, the plants climbed the walls, and the balconies overlooked the luscious gardens at both the front and back of the house. My parents were pleased with the house, and I suppose I was in some ways, but I could not help comparing it to my home back in England.
My father settled quickly into the roll of governor, my mother as governor's wife. But I could not settle so swiftly. I wandered the crime filled streets, watching the prostitutes as they openly sold their bodies on the streets. Glancing around me as the men filed out of the pubs as drunk as ever, and pick pockets roamed the streets stealing anything they could get their hands on.
The docks were also an eventful place, I loved watching as the ships docked, and the worried wives, daughters and mothers scurried around in relief for the safety of their sailors.
Crime had not decreased in the town since our arrival, but it seemed quieter, less blatant street crimes. My mother was enjoying her place in society with the finest ladies in Port Royal. We seemed to have reached a groove in life, and were happy to stay in it.
And the arrival of a certain someone came to threaten our position in the groove. Roberto, now seventeen, announced his arrival, only days before he reached Port Royal. My mother was pushed to prepare the spare room for him, and my father eager to have everything in order for the arrival of his, well it was a complicated relationship, but for the arrival of Roberto.
On his first impression of Port Royal, Roberto voiced his doubts of our being truly happy away from our native England. My mother shrugged his doubts aside with happy conviction that she loved Port Royal. My father, too, added a few words of praise. Roberto turned to me, for my opinion. "Port Royal is lovely, but it has one fault. It is and never will be England." I said, with a curtsy. I left the group to argue it out amongst themselves. It really didn't concern me what they thought of Port Royal.
I tried to avoid Roberto, he had not changed from the seven year old I had once hated. He was still as forceful, arrogant and as annoying as ever.
Everyday he was there, to join me on my walk, to accompany me to the library, or on my morning errands. My mother described his attentions as sweet. But there were a million people I would rather have attentions from then Roberto.
My father was sceptical, clearly he imagined a better match for his daughter then the tearaway grandson of a distant cousin, but it was equally clear that he liked Roberto. So without fortune or name, Roberto was still a favourite with my father.
"Where are you off to, Theo?" Roberto asked.
"Nowhere special, do excuse me."
"Well, I'll come with you."
"Thank you but I would prefer to be on my own."
"Nonsense, besides I would not trust to leave you on your own."
"I beg your pardon." I said, shocked.
"I mean no offence meant, my dearest Theo. Your father is doing an excellent job cleaning Port Royal, but it is still dangerous for a young women to walk alone."
"I thank you for your concern, Roberto, but no one would dare touch me." I began to walk off, but he grabbed my arm.
"Where you off to?" He repeated.
"I'm going for a walk to the docks."
"I'll come with you."
"What part of no thank you don't you understand, Roberto?"
"The no part." He said, with a grin.
"Roberto." My father called through the open study window.
I grinned. "Looks like your wanted."
He scowled as he turned back to the house. I set off down the road with a sigh of relief. It was not that I disliked Roberto, but I had no opinion of him. I neither liked nor hated my arrogant cousin. He was certainly a good looking man, with definite charm to his countenance, and a certain likeable quality. But I refused his charms, and he was determined to tease me with his attentions.
I fumed as I turned by the boy and walked under the arch of trees to the docks.
A long awaited merchant ship had arrived, the docks were covered with relieved mothers, wives and children. I happily dispersed myself in the crowd, watching as the happy couples embraced with relief.
Then I caught sight of the ship, with shock. It was 'listing near the scrubbers', had taken a thorough beating, and was close to sinking. How on earth had the ship ended up in such a state?
Then I heard the hurried conversation of a mother and her sailor son. What I heard chilled me to the very bone.
"It were pirates, mama, they attacked us on the way back from Tortuga." He said.
"Pirates." She squealed.
The seventeen year old nodded. "Yeah, we were gonna fight 'em, but you won't believe who it was."
"Dear?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow."
"Captain Jack Sparrow!" The mother exclaimed.
"That's right and you've heard the tales of that pirate, you don't mess with Captain Jack Sparrow."
I couldn't believe it, I hadn't thought of Jack for years, but now? No way, it must be a different Jack Sparrow, I thought miserably. I fought my way out through the crowd.
I couldn't believe it, I collapsed on to a near by bench. How could that innocent stable boy, washed up on a Cornish beach turn into a bloody thirsty pirate?