Note: Another jump forward in time, this is about three years later. Hal is bargaining with another pirate captain on the man's ship.
Chapter 7
Just Some Unfortunate Soul
"So, what say you?" I smile at him brightly, before I take another sip of rum.
"Well, it is tempting. I'll have to talk to the men about it. I'll send you word tomorrow."
"I'll be around." I get up from the seat, and Brendon rises as well to accompany me back to deck. One of my rings must have slipped, because suddenly, jangling, it falls to the floor. I bend, to pick it up, when a faint glitter catches my eye. In a crack between the planks, there's a charm. And it looks familiar. I slip the ring back onto my finger and pick up the little trinket. Hold out my hand, and there it is, very small and fragile, on my palm. I show it to the Captain, I have to concentrate hard, and still my voice is trembling.
"Where did you get that?" I look at it, look at him, and back at the charm.
He sizes the little thing up, showing hardly any recognition. Then, his eyes light up a little. "Ah, that. I picked up some pretty harlot in Tortuga. She wore it."
My head is full of thoughts in an instant. This is one of the same trinkets I'm wearing. Jack has them, too, as well as Maggie and Pearl. A harlot, in Tortuga, he said. Pearl visits Tortuga frequently, and all in skirts. He might have taken her for a prostitute, especially around Diamond. Maggie could be anywhere, pretending to be anything. Neither of them would have given this away freely. But I have this feeling. Bad feeling. Pearl. I don't know why. Pearl. The trinket lies on my hand, and I realize my hand is shaking. Small, and shiny. Pearl. This is not good.
"You picked her up, you said?" I gulp, and forcibly soften my tone. "Is she still here?"
"Aye, she was a little unpleasant. I had to teach her some manners, if you understand what I mean." He laughs, a husky sound. I laugh, too, and close my fist tight around the charm. I need to know. This whole thing worries me. A lot.
"I believe I know that wench. Red hair, caramel eyes? Small of build, but a wiry figure?"
"That could be her. Why do you ask?" He is getting suspicious. But so am I.
"Ah, I was with her, a while ago. But she stole my bag during the night. When I tried to hold her, she gave me this." I point to a scar that runs from my lip up the cheek. "Very unpleasant woman. I should like to say I am anxious to meet her again."
"Well," there's the husky laughter again, "That can be arranged. I have her in my brig."
He turns and gestures for me to follow him. For some seconds, I keep staring at his back, listening to the beating of my heart that is pounding against my chest.
And he takes me down, down into the ship. Down deeper, into the dark. The descent numbs my senses, a little bit as if it takes me away from the real world, I'm not sure why. I feel my feet wary under me. This seems to be another world. But it is just … another ship. He opens a hatch for me, and I step inside. Water encloses my bare feet up to my ankles. The water is not exactly cold. It's not warm either. Damp air hits me like a blow. Takes my breath, for an instant. My eyelids flicker, and I suck in air through my mouth, involuntarily. The taste on my tongue makes me gag. Darkness all around, it takes my eye a while to adjust. Then, I see her. A small female figure, crouched in a corner. Her arms are chained to the wall. Can't be Pearl. I can't even imagine a chest she couldn't pick the lock on with naught but the nail on her thumb. This can impossibly be Jack's daughter, the infamous Pearl Sparrow, unless blood loss and fever ... . No. This is just some unfortunate soul I don't know.
Brendon approaches her.
"Come here and have a closer look." He makes an inviting gesture.
I hesitate. There's still a chance to go and never think about this again. I don't have to help this girl. Even if it is Pearl. I owe nothing to her, she can take care of herself. Turn, and leave. Set sail, and off.
"Ah, not to worry. She's still alive, but she won't be able to do much harm anymore."
Whoever this is. She is badly hurt. He flogged her. Her back is covered in dried up blood. Dark cuts crisscrossing on pale skin. I feel my jaw trembling, and my stomach is growing cold. I have some clear memories of leather against skin. I remember the heat. I remember the pain. I remember the fear. Shame, sweat, blood and tears. I turn my head to the left, focusing on her with my right eye. I straighten myself and realize I'm leaning backwards even. I'm ready to run, or so I figure. And I have started chewing on my tongue. My skin is prickling. My hands shove the sleeves of my shirt upward, and I begin to run my fingers over the scars on my lower arms. Are they always this hot?
I wade slowly through the shallow water. Almost reach her, get down on my knees, to cover the last bit of the distance. The smell. The smell is bad. Foul smell. Vomit, and excrements. I try to breathe trough my mouth, but it doesn't help.
"How long has she been down here?"
"Coupla days." Brendon answers. "Don't fear, she's still alive. Hardly, but it's still an accomplishment, all things considered."
Good Lord. My hands let go of my arms. I reach out for her. Touch the skin of her shoulder. Dried blood on open skin. The cuts are hard with scabs. Skin is clammy to the touch. She sweats, and she is way too hot. There's a fever inside her.
Remember. Cramps. The bones in my hand cracking with the pressure. Fingernails digging into palm. The heat of the dislocated shoulder. I flinch. God, get a grip. This is not about you. Who is she. Can't be Pearl. This is not like Pearl.
I move my shoulders backwards, feel the vertebrae in my spine snap. I don't want to look.
Quickly throw a glance at Brendon. He's ogling us. Go away.
On this, all of a sudden a crewman clambers down the stairs. "Captain, sorry to interrupt. We need you just a moment."
"Problem?" Bootleg stops grinning down at his handiwork on the floor to look at the crewman.
"Fleet fell from the mast. He's pretty banged up. There's talk of heading to port for a doctor."
Bootleg sighs heavily. "Sorry about this, Captain."
"No worries," I answer.
"You look her over. Find me when you've decided, if I don't find you."
He leaves. Then, and I'm not sure how I managed, I have my hands under her chin. Move her head slowly into the faint light. My breath has stopped. I'm chewing on the rings in my lower lip now. A small piece of tooth breaks.
Covered with dirt, there is the face of a beautiful girl, with high cheekbones and soft lips now shaded black with dried blood and filth, and white with skin that is peeling. Her nose seems a little bit too large, and it bears a hook from breaks. It's her. Pearl. It can't be. No.
I raise my hand for my fingers to ghost over the unbroken skin of her cheek. There is blood on her face, but it doesn't come from flogging wounds there. So at least her face and front are untouched. Her back only. Bad enough, but I thank God for this. Was he by some perverted notion trying not to destroy all of her beauty? Her back she can hide quite easily … angrily I remove my fingers from my face where they were tracing scars on my chin and running from my cheekbone to my ear. I don't have to hide.
I brush a strand of hair out of her face. Sweet Pearl. How on earth did this happen to you?
Pearl. I mouth her name. She doesn't stir, but the way breath flows in and out of her is changing. I recognize all too well the studious stillness of a body used to waking to pain and learning how best to limit it.
She tries to open her lids, but dried blood holds her eyelashes closed. She blinks, and succeeds in breaking the grip on her right eye, but the left remains shut, forcing her to find an unsteady focus through the cloud of lashes. The caramel orb seems almost luminescent in the darkness.
Then I see dry lips moving. A hardly audible word, and I don't understand her at first. Then, I realize, she said a name.
"Jack?" A smile finds its way across my face. She thinks I'm Jack. Her voice, rough and hardly more than a whisper, hurts my soul. My, she bears both the names Siren and Sparrow, and I know in her is a voice that does these names more than justice. She needs to drink, I need to cool down her fever.
"Jack. I knew you'd come. I'm safe."
Ah, he would have come, darling. No doubt he is desperate looking for you. I just got here first.
Softly, I correct her: "Hal." And quickly put my finger onto her lips when I see she wants to say some more.
"Hal?" she continues despite this, and I see in her weary gaze that she is searching for the information to go with the name. "Hal," she finally matches man and memory.
Although it must hurt her, she moves to reach for my hand, to cover mine with hers. I sit still, on realizing she is actually touching me to convince herself I am real, here in the flesh, not a fever dream. Hallucinations, I remember these, too. My, she is hot. The fever has been burning deep inside her for a while.
Brendon comes back, and Pearl's grip around my fingers tightens just a little. I turn to meet him. I need to get her out of this quickly.
"What do you want for her? I have to have her."
"Well …" he sizes me up. It takes him a little. "This is a very pretty sword you're carrying. Is it Asian?"
"It is a Samurai's blade. A Japanese sword smith made it for me. You won't find a better one, unless it was in the hands of a dead Samurai." I undo the belt that holds the sword. I am afraid to give it away, but I need to get her out of here right now. It's an awkward feeling to see him drawing my katana.
"Now open those chains." I demand, my voice trembling slightly.
When he undoes them, Pearl winces away from him, and I feel the need to hold her. But then, I believe I hear Pearl hiss. Yes, she is whispering. "I'll harm you," she vows, very sincere, and very calm for Pearl, not to mention Pearl in that situation. "If it's the last thing I do, you'll bleed across my boots." On that, she collapses into my lap. I stroke her hair softly. My, this girl is tough as nails. I would never have spoken up to Corr when he flogged me. I was too busy not to spit my lungs out screaming. I can't believe this. Can't believe this is her. It must be some sort of a weird dream.
I look at her, curled and naked in my lap. She is my child, my blood, my daughter. Good God. I have never been there for her. I feel the need to cover her, he shall not see her like this. What has he done to her?
Quickly, I get out of my shirt, to wrap her in it. Immediately, blood soaks the fair linen. I reach under her, to pick her up. She gives off a moan, and I feel her hands clawing into my arms. Fingernails buried in flesh, yes, I remember that. The nails so deep inside my flesh she draws blood. Now, more fresh blood, hers intermingling with mine, oozing warm onto my hands. I'm opening up her back. Aye, some memory of that, too.
When I straighten myself, the skin over my shoulders stretches, and for a short second, I think there's blood running down my back. There isn't. Instead, there's Pearl's violated body in my arms, her left hand finding its way up to my neck. I quickly pass by Brendon.
"Have fun!" He wants to slap my back, but I shy away to escape the touch.
Hold on, Pearl Sparrow. I feel the need to hold her tighter. Her face lies buried in my skin. Her shallow breath passing over me. I seek to cover as much of her as possible with the shirt. s' all right. I have you now.
Hurry back to the Black Lotus. I carry her as steadily as I am able, across the board set up between ships. A short leap that sends a shiver through her, and back I am on my own deck. She doesn't move the whole time, her breathing studiously even. In that moment, she looks very much like a child to me, although she is well in her teens. My, I missed all her childhood. I wasn't there. I'll never have the chance again.
The crew looks at me astonished. I'm usually not the type to rescue damsels in turmoil.
"Amad, a basin of water, to my cabin."
"Fresh," Pearl wheezes out.
"Fresh water, Amad." I put in as an afterthought. My head is swimming. We have no fresh water, but he will do his best, I know. Red is beginning to tinge the edge of my sight.
In my quarters, I put her carefully onto the bed. It is fresh, and clean, as I am never sleeping in it. Amad does, from time to time. Hammock. I prefer that. Never got used to beds. I always wondered why I felt the need to keep it. Now I know why, because Pearl will need it for the next couple of weeks. My head is already busy planning her stay. We'll need to bring her somewhere safe. Jack must not see her. It would kill him, it would kill Pearl. To see her like this, to have him see her like this. Weak. Bloody. … dying. I wonder, will she be able to live with me seeing her like this.
The dog comes over to look and sniff.
"Don't come too near. She's hurt." I say to her. The dog places her head on the foot of the bed, to look at Pearl.
/I know./ the dog informs me.
I wonder, shall I turn her not to expose her back to more pressure. But I figure I'll leave her like this, enough pain for her for the moment. I'll turn her around, when I come back, to care for her. First, first I have to take care of something else.
I need my katana back.
Suddenly Pearl whispers: "We're here?"
"Welcome aboard the Black Lotus, Pearl Sparrow. We feel honored by your presence." I pull the blanket over her, cool and silken. This will comfort her. I am back on my feet, opening the little chest on the table, going through the jewelry in there. Brendon, what does suit you? Ruby, emerald … ah, wait, a black pearl will more than fit the occasion. I loosen the eye patch.
"How bad?" Pearl asks.
It takes me a moment to understand what she means, while I spit onto the jewel and stuff the huge pearl into my empty left eye socket.
I turn back to her, to throw her a confused glance. Her back, I realize.
I reach for the carved sword I keep in my cabin. The cutlass is on my belt, as always, but still my hand reaches for the empty place where it normally finds the katana. I don't like being without it.
Her back, she wants to know about the back. What shall I say to you, sweet Pearl? Your back looks like ground meat. "I couldn't quite see it in the dark. I'll have a closer look when I clean the cuts."
I make for the door.
"Where are you going?" I am almost shocked by the terror edging her voice.
"I have to have another word with Brendon."
"Don't!"
"Don't what?"
"Don't … kill him, Hal. I need to do that myself."
I am back next to the bed, down on my knees. I stroke her hair once more.
"I know." If I know anything, I know that.
A faint smile around her lips. "You do, don't you."
"I do." I stand up, and make for the door again.
"I don't want to be alone." A whisper so quiet I am not sure if I have heard it at all. But … I remember the fear. What would I have done without Jack. "There aren't any women, and I don't want to be alone with the men."
"Nobody will touch you. Nobody will dare touching you. Asides, my dog is here to guard you. Nobody will hurt you."
"You won't hurt me."
I chew on the rings in my lip once again. Not all too long, Pearl, and I will hurt you pretty badly.
Suddenly, the door opens and Amad almost runs into me. He brings a basin with water, the freshest we have, laced with rum, and a cloth. I take it from his hands, he's still surprised to have encountered me right behind the door.
"Thanks, Amad." I say softly. "Gather the men, we're going to take over Brendon's ship. Everyone but the Captain will be dead … but Bootleg is mine, exclusively."
Amad gives me an odd look. "Tiu, if I may ask-" He throws a glance at Pearl.
"She's …" I hesitate, "She's my daughter, Amad."
The look he gives me now is beyond all I have ever seen from him.
"She has been flogged. If anyone comes near her, he'll beg for death before the end. Is that clear?"
Amad nods, and turns.
I wet the cloth, to clean Pearl's face, to remove the blood clots that hold her lashes tightly.
"Thank you," she whispers. "I can't tell you, thank you."
I smile. "Nothing to thank me for. I was … just there." I trace her lips with the rag. She grabs my hand.
"Hal, I want to tell you something. I'm sorry I've been such a shit. I'm just-"
"You haven't been. I understand. You're just … not quick to trust." I smile on the rhyme.
"But I trust you. I have for years." I think my heart skips a beat on that.
"Sweet Pearl, hearing that from your lips means far more to me than anything else." I give her a smile. "Well … then, show me your back." She nods, tongue tracing dry lips, and shifts forward. When she turns her back on me, I have the courage to ask. I could just look, but I dare not. She is more a child to me, my child in fact, and I am afraid to merely touch her.
"Did they rape you?"
Short silence.
"No."
I sigh. I'm not sure if I believe that. But that is a question for another day. I'd thank God if she was spared from that at least. On that, I carefully remove the shirt from her back, and I remember the awkward feeling of fabric in freshly opened wounds. God, I remember everything so clearly as if it has been yesterday. Pain is still so recent. It is years since then. The pain is still allover me. Inside every inch of my flesh.
"Best if you stay resting on your front, and just leave these as they are." I tuck the shirt under her shoulders. Red and yellow and black oozes from the wounds. Blood, fresh and dry, and pus. So there's an infection. I'll have to remove all the scabs and scratch out everything yellow. Press until fresh blood flows. God, this is gonna hurt her so much. I hope she'll pass out. I don't have the guts to put her out.
The dog looks at me. /Can she survive this/ I grind my teeth. I don't know. She has lost a lot of blood, and the fever is running hot in her. I don't know.
"Not good," Pearl whispers. I sigh deeply.
"No, it is not good. But you knew that already." I carefully wipe her sides, trying to find where the marks end, how close together the lashes were. There is one cut that runs to her breast from across the right shoulder, but fortunately, the majority of the wounds seems confined to her back. The cuts are deep, though. Will have to be stitched. In some places, whole sections of skin are missing. Sweet Pearl.
I'm going to take them apart.
"I'll tend to your wounds later. There is some business to tend to first." I pull the blanket up well over her hips, careful not to touch the lowest scars. I need the blade back.
Still, she stays curled on her side. I wet her lips with water from a cup. Dab a few drops into her mouth, but I know her body won't take much more.
"I want the truth, Hal," she whispers.
"I always tell the truth, Pearl, and you know."
"No games then. Am I going to die?"
Good Christ. I don't know. It's possible. But I can't tell you that. "Not here. Not now."
"Hal." Now her caramel eyes are open, so much like Jack's, and she's piercing me with her gaze. So strong for a person so weak. "If it would be easier to just slit my throat, to throw me overboard-" On that, her voice breaks, and she struggles with her voice, swallowing down hard before she finds the sound again, even more ragged than before. "If all I have ahead of me is pain, just end it."
"Don't even think like that, Pearl Sparrow." My voice is almost angry on that. "There is much pain ahead of you. And I can't spare you. But you'll live through. I lived through worse, and I don't have your strength and your power."
"You're still playing. I'm just saying, I'd forgive you."
"Up to now, there's nothing you'd have to forgive me for. Except for all the mistakes I have made, of course." She's right, I am still playing. "Rest now. I'll be with you in an instant."
"Hal," she calls me back once again, as well as she can. I return to the bed, taking a knee. "Be careful," she orders, "I don't want Bootleg to take any more from me." I smile on that. A warm feeling in my stomach. Just some hours ago, I think she would have gutted me herself, and now she is worried about me. Sweet Pearl.
"He won't." I promise, laying a soft kiss on her forehead. She sighs, and closes her eyes. I leave, quietly, to find the men assembled on deck. The red beings creeping into my sight again.
-
The Lotus pulls up close to Brendon's ship, and with a tight grip into the ropes, I am across the gap.
My feet landing on the planks is the only sound for an instant. I stay crouched. Then I look up quickly.
Brendon's crew looks at me and I know in that moment that they know I am not back for another glass of rum.
From the crouched position, I raise my voice.
"I am Captain Hal Sparrow, and I am going to kill everyone on this ship. You tortured my daughter almost to her death, and you will pay with your life. Anyone who has a problem with that may jump overboard right now."
Pause.
Then, I leap to my feet and draw the sword. The sound is enchanting, ringing in my ears. This is a dance. I smell the bittersweet odor of fresh blood, spewn across deck. I am waltzing through a mass of twitching, jiggling bodies, and I don't care about anyone of them. Dance with me, will you. Blood clouds swirl around my head, I glide forward. Ducking, jumping, turning. Bowing and curtsying. Is there a tune in the air? I shift the sword in my hands, then, draw the cutlass. Metal cold in my fingers. Soft flesh, tissue, intestines, meeting my skin. Ah, will you join me for the dance?
And then, Brendon's head knocks backwards against the main mast.
"Captain." I ram the cutlass into the wood right next to his ear. Wipe blood from my face with my right palm, cover his face with the same hand.
"I am sorry I have left your deck in such a mess."
I bring the blade of my sword to his throat in one swift motion.
"No worries, I won't kill you. She will, and by all that is holy, she will make you beg for your life. I hope I will be there to see you. This is not my fight anymore."
I feel him shaking, anger and fear and humiliation intermingling in his glance. I stare him down. Can you see your own image in the pearl in my eye?
"Tell one of your men to fetch my sword."
He motions to a dark haired man held by some of my crew, and they disappear.
It doesn't take long. The dark haired boy hands me the blade, and when I reach for it, my sword still at Brendon's throat, he tries to draw it. I flinch. But before the whole of the blade can leave the sheath, there's a dagger through his throat, and he falls dead to his knees. One of the Lascars of my crew has finished with him quickly.
I turn back to Brendon. "Raise your hands above your head. Against the mast." When he does so, I slam a knife through both of them, fixing him to the wood.
"No worries, you'll get loose soon enough."
With that, I move to pick up my katana from the ground. Well-trained moves place it securely around my waist.
To the men: "Keep an eye on him. Don't touch him. Kill who you find living. Search the ship for goods. Amad." The Maori steps closer. "You are in charge here. I'm with the girl, if you need me." I am almost on the rail, when something reminds me of a Captain's duty. "Did we lose a lot of men?" I glance around.
Amad shakes his head. "A few."
I lay my head onto his shoulder quickly. "Well done. … well done."
And back it is again, back to the Lotus.