Chapter Five: In the Brig
Groggily, Maren awoke, totally dumbstruck as to why her bed was lurching to and fro. 'Kristiiieee!' she whined pitifully, 'Am I drunk?'
While there were several monumental inconveniences to being deceased, no food, sex, or liquor dominating the list, there are also a few advantages, spying on naked people, no taxes, and sleep is not mandatory or even possible, therefore, no drowsiness, fatigue, or those first few seconds of bewilderment, such as, "Where am I? Who is this? And dear God, why is he so ugly!" With her extra hours of permanent insomnia, Kristy had been wandering the lower decks of the Black Pearl, eavesdropping on pirates, and discovering that very little interesting or informational ever happened down below. She wished she could look straight into the horse's mouth, Sparrow's quarters, and decipher his plans first hand, but she didn't dare roam too far. Maren was vulnerable, asleep in the brig all alone. Kristy was guarding the door like the notorious mother bear, but fortunately, Maren remained undisturbed.
But now that she was roused, "No Pet, but ye be wishin' ye were."
Still dazed and tired, Maren sat up in her bed…no not her bed at all! The fog of slumber evaporated in light of adrenaline and memory…Sparrow…kidnapped…Black Pearl! "Oh shit," she flopped back to the crooked cot in the brig, "It was'n a dream!"
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Maren was doubled over on herself, upside down, and still hanging like butcher meat in a sack, being hoisted about by a pirate thug. The blood was pooling in her brain and her feet were achingly numb. Her attempts to attract attention to her situation were futile. Only in Tortuga, could five conspicuous pirates, one with a screeching and thrashing bag thrown over his shoulder, stroll along the streets unnoticed, in fact, many pedestrians closed their eyes and dashed inside to ensure they deliberately didn't notice. At least Kristy had some colorful phrases to hurl after them; the petty detail that none of her victims could hear her foul insults seemed inconsequential.
And then there was Cap'n Jack Sparrow! Nailing up the final insult, singing that confounded anthem about the merits of piracy in deafening proportions. 'I do'n think he's half as drunk as he acts,' her physical words were gagged, but her psychic communication was loud and clear.
"Pretty sharp, eh?" Kristy floated among the pirates, she'd been informing Maren on their direction and occasionally conserving enough concentration to touch one of the crew, spreading cold gooseflesh over his skin.
'Ye sure ye do'n mean pretty daft?'
"I sure," from the sack, Maren could hear the thud of their party's boots become thumps, "We're on the pier," Kristy supplied, then continued, "Would ye look at all them blokes steppin' 'side for Jack like he be the king o' sometin'?"
'I can't look,' Maren bit out, 'on account of this BAG on me head!'
"Figure o' speech and ye knows it," snapped Kristy, "And are'n yer knickers in a twist!"
'What can I say?' sarcasm dripping, 'Bein' kidnapp'd by pirates brings out the worst in me!' Perhaps regretting the spat or still irritated by it, they lulled into silence. Maren's thoughts danced on the horizon of her mind's fantasy. Nostalgic childhood dreams sprang like up like daisies. Wasn't this the scene when a handsome young hero was supposed to swoop down and rescue her, virile and splendid in all his courageous glory? Her heart imagined a lithe fellow, fair in looks, nobly drawing his blade, proclaiming in a chivalrous voice his quest to liberate the Maid Maren. Gallantly, he'd strike the notorious Captain Sparrow dead and defeat his grimy ensemble. He'd vow his eternal love for her, carrying her away forever…
Reality encroached upon her imaginings, even if there were such a man, which having a prostitute as a mentor and serving sailors in a pub guaranteed she wasn't naïve enough to consider anything so preposterous to be true, crossing blades with Jack would certainly be the death of him. Jack's swordplay was notorious as the Black Pearl herself. Well, a girl could dream, couldn't she?
A gasp sounded from Kristy, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," she murmured.
'What 'tis it?' anxious, Maren strained to see through the scratchy threads of the sack.
"'Tis the Black Pearl," the vast ship was breathtaking. It loomed mighty and beautiful above the other boats, dwarfed by her beauty and craftsmanship. Her black sails shimmered like silk in the sea breeze. Every railing, every pane, and every panel was carved with meticulous detail, illustrating the dedication of marble artisans. The dark wood, not stained or painted as was commonly surmised, but natural and rare in shade, glimmered under bright moonlight. Beyond the sheen of her color and flap of her sails, pulsed a jolt of passionate speed. Anchored and docked, she still seemed to be defiantly taming the waves, sailing swiftly somehow, like pooled quicksilver. The Black Pearl was as fierce and alive as a galloping mare.
A winged woman served as the wooden figurehead, her face unfathomable in expression. She stared over them with blank eyes and Kristy nervously hustled past. Ghosts have a keen intuition for recognizing other unconventional forms of life and the Black Pearl was faintly sentient on some small level. It was disconcerting, Kristy decided.
"All men on deck! Capt'n aboard!" above them, a harsh cry fell from the crow's nest on spotting Jack. A herd of footsteps erupted, all assembling around the center mast, but from this angle Kristy saw little and Maren, of course, saw nothing.
Jack, walked casually up the ramp to his beloved ship, admiring her expensive repairs, improvements, and renovations that had devoured a costly portion of his treasure horde, but she was worth ten times more to Jack. The despairing years she had sailed under the mutineer Barbossa had been cruel to her. Apparently the undead were incapable of tending to even her basic needs. They certainly didn't love her like Jack did. Oh yes, he'd heard the comparisons of ships to lovers but the thought made his mind retch with the blasphemy of it. A ship was too holy to be brought on the same mundane level as a mortal woman, she was his divine angel, his Virgin Mary, his patron saint, to be worshipped and served with endless devotion. For ten torturous years, he had been an orphaned child separated from his mother, but never again!
Reverently, Jack placed a tender kiss upon his fingertips and gently tapped the railing as he boarded his awaiting vessel. Kristy felt the ship welcoming him and shuddered for it was unsettling.
"Attention! Cap'n's on command!" a female shout rang over the crew, they stiffened, alert and stoic.
'Who was that?'
"Well drop to me knees," Kristy peered at the dark-skinned woman, "It be a lady pirate!"
'Positive? Maybe she's a prisoner too,' Maren asked hopefully, misery loves company.
Studying the men's ragged clothing she wore comfortably and assorted charms, not to mention the brute demeanor, Kristy nodded, "Positive, o' she be the Queen o' Lesbos herself."
The pirate captain marched to the upper deck, his first mate and the pirate in possession of Maren stalked behind. With all the regality of royalty Jack addressed his men, "Me apologies me constant and loyal crew," Jack's slurring dissipated and the authority in his voice was hard enough to split wood. "No shore leave tonight," he paused, ears fiercely listening for any groans of malcontent, but if the crew was at all grieved, they wisely hid it. "Aye," proudly he projected, "that be me mates, always yearnin' for the sea. As ye all well know, Cap'n Romulus the Father of all Pirates'," the crewmembers all respectfully bowed their heads, those who bore them, removed their hats also, and one overzealous sailor took off his eye patch, "lost fortune has elud'd his devot'd and certainly enterprisin' sons for fifty years now. Fifty years, but I swear not one year more." Anticipated breaths were held in unison, "They said 'twas a fool's errand, that the entire crew of the Alpha was swimmin' in Davey Jones' Locker, but who tracked down the cabin boy?"
"Sparrow!" the pirate's chorused, feeding off of Jack's charisma.
"They said 'twas madness," displaying his arms in a great open embrace, Jack propelled the perpetual enthusiasm, "that there be no such paradise land, but who discover'd the Cap'n's grave?"
"Sparrow!" the echoes rang off the calm waters.
"They said 'twas impossible to bypass the French garrisons of the north and outrun the Spanish fleet to the west, but who did both and had time for tea?"
"Sparrow!" this strange choir beat their chests and clasped hands in pirate frenzy, hooting and cheering.
"And who will find Romulus' treasure!"
"Sparrow!" their voices screamed to all of the Caribbean, harsh but firm in effort.
"Aye," Jack said, "that I will, yet I want be doin' it 'lone, ye all will have the honor of claimin' history and fame, not to mention a considerable quantity of loot, plunder, and wealth with me," more affirmative ovations sounded. "On the morrow, the Black Pearl sets sail for La Cabra Robada, with a brief stop in Port Royale where about forty o' these," elaborately, Jack produced his sword from his sheath, blade situated upon his open palms, and presented the glinting weapon to his crew, now standing on the balls of their feet to better gander, "-await. The balance is perfection," tossing the sword to the air, Jack grabbed the handle and thrust, "the steal, the finest quality in the New World," another demonstration of languid slashes that swished in the wind, "and the architecture," Jack struck a taught rope, four inches in diameter and tightly woven, the blade cut through without hesitation, "flawless."
He sheathed the weapon, "It is my intention, that every man-," Anamaria whistled, "and woman," Jack didn't miss a beat, "of me crew will receive their own sword crested with the symbol of the Black Pearl herself, a gift from a proud and grateful cap'n." The pirates clapped their hands with all their strength. Their applause was adoring and genuine, it meant for more than the loud roar before.
Aided by deceptively false modesty, Jack gestured to the crewmembers for silence. "One more thing lads, then we prepare me ship for open ocean. We have a guest," Maren's world flipped again as the goon holding her emptied the sack. Somehow she managed to land on her arse rather than her head, but her tailbone still shot pain throughout her spine. Frantically, she attempted to regain her breath and free her legs from her tangled skirts; a familiar, jeweled hand abruptly interrupted her. Jack forcibly heaved Maren to her feet and dragged her by the elbow to the edge of the upper deck, before the crafted railing, and presented her to the assembly. Her nervous eyes searched for an escape, but paralyzed on the menacing pirates, panic freezing her coherency.
Enthusiastic catcalls and taunts wafted up, Jack held up one hand for quiet and the noises ceased but not the leers. "This fine lady," snickers escaped from noses, "be Miss Maren Attle and she's graciously accept'd me invitation to accompany us on our journey." Jack quickly interrupted any more jeers, "She be the medium I was lookin' for…so hands off." He finished lightly, as if he was requesting someone to pass the salt, but immediately the crew wiped the lust from their faces and embraced silence again. "Now get to work, ye lazy scalawags! We sail at first light, and by yer mothers, if it be but one minute later, I will personally flog every son o' a bitch here!"
As the pirates hastened to their appointed tasks, Jack passed the yielding Maren to Gibbs, "To the brig, Mister Gibbs, and make sure ye and me be the only ones with keys." Justifiably paranoid, Jack glanced around suspiciously. To Maren he endeared a smile and laid his hands upon her shoulders, "I be busy tonight, luv, but come mornin' I'll fetch ye. Try not to miss me too much," expectantly, Jack stepped back, narrowly avoiding another of Maren's devastating kicks. She was almost unbalanced by Gibbs, who tugged her stoutly to the stairs leading below. The last spectacle she saw from Jack that night was his lopsided smirk, shadowed by a blown kiss he saucily gave her as she disappeared from sight.
The brig, just recently repaired, was down a confusing number of halls and turns, lower and lower, to the very bowels of the ship. Gibbs, now noticeably gentler, escorted Maren into the cell closest to the brig door. The clang of the iron bars made her wince. The tiny prison was sparse, three pairs of black manacles drooped from the wall and one cot, bolted to the floor, stood in the corner, filthy blanket and thin pillow adorning it. Maren shivered miserably.
"If ye comes here and turns 'bout, I'll be untying them binds for ye," Gibbs said, concerned. Maren did as requested, back to the bars and hands accessible. Deftly, unraveling the sailor's knots, Gibbs awkwardly tried to comfort her, "Do'n ye fret ye pretty littl' head gel, Cap'n Sparrow's never hurt no woman. He wo'n even tolerate it from the crew, one of his requisites, ye could say. Ye perfectly safe and sound as long as ye on the Pearl."
The rope fell away from Maren's cramping wrists. Immediately, her hands sprang upward to tear the gag away from her aching jaw. Attentively, she stretched her sore mouth, "If ye would be so kind as to deliver an important message to Cap'n Sparrow?" Maren asked meekly.
"Yes?"
Snorting grotesquely, Maren spat onto Gibbs' face, the glob of mucus sliding down his stubbly cheek, "And tell him there's more where that came from!"
Kristy hid her face in her hands, "Maren are ye tryin' to get yerself kill'd!" In forethought, Maren briefly considered maybe she had overstepped her bounds. She wasn't exactly in the securest position to be liberally causing offence. The regret shown pitifully in her eyes, Gibbs struggled with pride and mercy before deciding his action.
To both Kristy and Maren's relief, Gibbs sighed like a martyr and wiped the rubbish from his face, "If it be all the same to ye, I'll just be keepin' this 'tween ye and me." He left the brig then, seemingly exhausted. A flash of guilt itched at Maren's stomach, after all Gibbs had been civil to her. Well, as civil as a pirate can be in the act of aiding and abetting a kidnapping.
The next few hours consisted of feeble attempts to loosen bars, unsuccessfully jimmying the lock, and piercingly rapping the manacles across the iron, screaming, "Let me OUT!" but Maren was purposely ignored. Only when the orders for casting off were shouted from above and the Black Pearl awakened like a giant, gradually rocking into motion, did Maren finally collapse defeated upon the cot. She could feel the proverbially hangman's rope tightening around her neck.
"It's sunrise," Kristy said soothingly, "Try and get a bit o' sleep, Pet. I'll keep watch for them bastards should they come." Too tired to oppose both Kristy and slumber, Maren fell headlong into a consoling sleep.
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Maren glared vengefully at the ceiling above the stinking cot. What was she to do? Captured by pirates, aboard the Black Pearl, and miles from land. There was meager little she could do. An alarming creak crept from the wood of her cot, distracting Maren momentarily from her abandonment.
Crack!
The two bottom legs of the flimsy cot broke, sprawling her to the cold floor. She lied there awhile in a heap, beaten. "I hate me life," Maren declared vehemently before lurching unsteadily up, dusting off her dress.
