The Water is Wide
Summary: This chapter is basically about getting to know Mary, and her lifestyle. There will be much more Jack next chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean (well, duh!).
Warning: Nada.
Rating: PG-13, as that's what the film was.
Author's Note: I've tried to paint an accurate picture of what life at sea would have been like, but I don't know that much about it 'cos obviously I wasn't alive back then. Please feel free to tell me if I've made any mistakes.
Mary O' Connor was woken by the sound of her husband, Colm, stirring beside her on the mattress they shared. Glancing at the porthole on the other side of her sleeping partner, she quickly deduced that it was early morning, maybe about six o' clock. Time to start the day. Mary always slept in her clothes in case of attack or another unexpected circumstance. She knew how important it was to always be prepared on a ship. Pulling on her old, leather boots, she gave a low whistle in her husband's direction, and he groaned in response.
Mary and Colm were a good team. They had married when she was sixteen and he was twenty; a good fifteen years ago. Mary had been raised a devout Catholic by her parents, and in the tradition of Irish Catholic girls, she had married young to a boy of whom her parents approved. Colm O' Connor had been a crew member on her father's merchant ship since he was ten, and he was a hard worker. Dermot MacDonagh rewarded hard work with respect, and by the time Mary met Colm, he and her father shared a mutual understanding. Because she showed such a keen interest in sailing, Dermot allowed his daughter to work on his ship from the age of eleven, on voyages to exotic places, carrying cargoes of tea, tobacco and potatoes. Through years of working together, Colm and his employer's daughter developed a friendship which deepened into love. Finally, on her sixteenth birthday, Colm proposed marriage. Dermot and his wife naturally wanted the best for their daughter, so a lowly sailor wasn't the match they had depicted for her, but they were loving folk and knew that he would make her happy.
And Mary couldn't be happier. Seven years ago they had used the money they had saved, not to buy a house or a farm, but their own ship. She was called the Aran Lady, after Colm's mother, who had died since of the consumption, but had lived all her life on the pretty island of Aran Moore.
Colm finally sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and bade his wife good morning. She was fully dressed, her hair dishevelled, as always. Mary kept her hair short and cut it herself for convenience, but it had begun to grow and now brushed her shoulders. She was a natural redhead but briny spray and strong sun had turned her hair into a ginger tinged mousy colour. Her face already showed creases and lines from exposure to harsh weather, but she was also deeply tanned. Despite being small and thin, she had sinewy muscles. She hated her little stature, being tall and strong like a man would be so much easier for working on a large ship like the Aran Lady.
"Get up, then, you beggar!" She scolded her husband playfully, pulling the worn blanket from him. "We've got a ship to run."
"Ah, Mary, what else do we have a crew for?"
"You're the part o' the crew and I'm the captain so get your lazy arse out of bed, now!" She warned, laughing. When he had set his feet on the floor and begun to hunt for his boots, she threw the blanket back onto the bed. "I'm going to eat something; I'll see you in the galley in a minute, alright?"
When he gave his affirmative answer, she left the room and made her way to the galley. Her stomach wanted food, but she barely felt any hunger. The most she could expect for breakfast was some hard tack biscuits and heavily salted bacon. Sure enough, all she could find that wasn't covered in grubs was the disgusting aforementioned biscuits. Food was one of the worst things of being at sea; all any of the crew could eat was the bare minimum to stay alive. On top of that, she knew the lack of nutrients in this barely edible swill caused scurvy, a terrible illness which affected everybody on the ship, causing them to look like plague victims and for their teeth to fall out. Nobody knew why sailors developed scurvy so easily, although there was a theory that it had something to do with fruits such as lemon and lime. Mary clutched at this and brought limes with her on every journey. She would eat a small amount every day, but her crew laughed at her for this. She swore it made a difference, though.
As she sucked on a small slice of the bitter, green fruit, she was joined by Toothy Joe (so called because he actually had most of his teeth) and Short John (so called because he was the tallest man on board). They grinned at her as they each selected their meal.
"At the limes again, are you, Mary?" Joe teased. "Sure, it's not proper for a woman of your standing. What would your mother say?"
"And how're the spots this morning, Joe?" Mary joshed back, referring to the black marks covering Joe's arms and back- again, a symptom of scurvy.
"Ah, grand. It's you I'm worried about; you'll be soaking your brain in lime juice if you carry on with those things!"
"You could do with soaking in lime juice," Colm muttered, entering the galley. "Or maybe just being pelted with a hundredweight of them. Might knock some sense into that head o' yours."
"How's me fellow captain this fine morning?" Mary asked her husband, throwing the dimpled lime skin to the floor.
"Just wonderful, Mary." Three or four more sailors drifted in, and Colm looked around at them. "Where's the rest of your mates? We've a day o' work to get started!"
"Ah, they're just around the corner, Captain."
"Good, 'cause I sense it'll be a busy one. It's nearing mid-autumn and the wind's getting stronger."
It was indeed the middle of autumn and by late morning, wind and rain had started to lash the deck and rigging. Mary was used to tough weather, but this time of year was the worst for visibility when steering. By midday the rain had worsened so that she could barely see, and the sails were billowing in the east wind; they were being blown sideways. Finally, Mary decided to drop anchor until they were safe to carry on. The crew gratefully scurried below deck, leaving only one poor man in the crow's nest.
Tom was cursing his position; he hated the job of look out. Crouching low to avoid some of the precipitation, he squinted around at the rain-lashed sea for signs of other ships. He was wet to the bone and began to fantasize about being below deck in his chamber. Inside the ship was perpetually cold and damp, but it was heaven compared to this. All of a sudden, he paused his shivering as he caught a glimpse of movement nearby. It was another ship. Their captain must have been harder on them, for they were battling to row through the rough sea towards the Aran Lady. His heart beating faster he flicked his eyes to the mast to search for the giveaway flag. Sure enough, there it was… the Jolly Roger!
"AHOY!" Tom yelled at the top of his voice. "PIRATES!" There was a clatter below deck, and a ruddy face appeared, frightened and confused.
"Eh?" He called up to his suddenly animate shipmate.
"I said pirates! Coming straight for us! Everybody up on deck!"
The man disappeared and came back quickly, followed by most of the rest of the crew. Mary and Colm headed the small crowd, concern and fright obvious on their faces. They had only ever experienced pirates attack once before; when they were both working on Dermot's crew. They had been ferrying a consignment of potatoes to an island in the Caribbean when it had happened, and the second halves of the routes of that journey and this one were very similar (although their cargo this time was cotton and from the other side of the Atlantic). It had been frightening, and there were a few fatalities. It was also over bewilderingly fast, as fortunately the pirates had left the body of the ship alone, only stealing a good deal of their money and cargo.
The crew of the Aran Lady were untrained and inexperienced fighters, but they shared a common instinct to protect their property. As they nervously spread themselves along the deck with makeshift weapons; knives, wooden beams, an old scythe, etcetera, the first grapple hooked itself over the side of the barrier. With mutual consent, the crew didn't touch it. They knew they could not prevent the pirates boarding. Within seconds, more grapples were connecting the two ships, and several planks were hoisted up to make gangways.
Soon, pirates were scrambling into their boat. Big, muscle bound, dirty, rotting men, carrying pistols, blades, cutlasses and the occasional torch. The crew looked on, terrified. Merchant sailors were tough, but they were no match for these villains.
Everybody looked up as a craggy, bearded man approaching middle age boarded the ship. He was attired in a new but filthy grey jacket, and he carried a huge pistol. He walked slowly to the front of his army, his boots ringing heavily on the wet floorboards. The rain was still pelting down, but nobody noticed any longer.
"Drop your weapons!" He commanded in a hoarse voice. After the merest hint of hesitation, they complied. The man gave a nod to his crew, who began to surge to the steps. "Handy, Borger, Farnham and Jacob, you stay here."
Four large pirates, each armed with a pistol, surrounded the crew who began to move together. Mary was shunted behind her husband, who stood the closest to the pirate captain. One of the knives that had been dropped was pressing against her shin from the floor, and a thin trickle of blood ran down to her foot. Colm's right hand searched behind his back for her, and she gripped his thumb for support.
"Which one of you is Captain?"
"I am," Colm replied firmly, giving Mary's hand a shake as he let it go.
"You are, are you?" Their enemy muttered grimly, reaching out and taking the scruff of his neck. He pulled him closer, placing the tip of his gun on Colm's left temple. Mary twitched in fear. "Anyone of you makes a foolish move, and your captain gets it in the head," he crowed.
"Do as he says, men," instructed Colm, earning himself a clout from the handle of the gun.
"Don't speak out of turn."
After a minute or so, it came to the pirate captain's attention that the small person standing just in front of him was a woman. Presumably a crew member. He would never have women in his crew himself; they were too weak and delicate. He could only think of one use for them himself, and he usually had to pay for it.
"Hello, my pretty," he purred to her. In his hoarse voice, it sounded like a growl.
She was not 'pretty' by any stretch of the imagination but it was a long time since he'd seen a woman, and it was very boring being at sea for such long periods at a time. With his gun he beckoned to her, and she crossed the distance to him in a few unsteady steps. He put his pistol-bearing arm around her, so that he could still point the gun at the captain, but from a further distance. He could feel her trembling and laughed.
A few minutes later, his own band arrived back from the hold. It was a disappointing raid; they had returned only with a small quantity of money from the Aran Lady's last voyage.
"Argh!" Said the leader in disgust at the poor spoils. "Never mind. Back to the ship." He swung back to face his own vessel, and for the first time Mary could make out the sinister name painted on the side, despite the rain. The Lost Soul. She struggled, but he kept a hold on her. "Ah, no, now. You're coming with us. We could do with some amusement on the ship, couldn't we, mates?" He pressed the gun to the back of her head as an affirmative cheer was heard from the rest of the pirates. To the horror of Colm and the rest of the crew, he steered her over a plank onto the Lost Soul.
Mary was pushed roughly down two flights of steps into the brig, where she was locked in a cage-like cell. As soon as the leering pirates had left her alone with the promise of returning, she began to weep. Softly and quietly, so nobody could her, she cried tears of pure terror.
For hours she huddled in the cell, frightened and lonely, wondering if Colm was alright. There were puddles of sea water all around her, and the air was moist and putrid. It was so dark and closed in, and loneliness made it seem even more so. All she could hear was the crash of water against the side of the boat and muffled voices above her, until suddenly she heard sounds of gunshots and shouting. Confused, she began to panic, wondering what was happening. A particularly loud explosion almost made her jump out of her skin, and then everything went quiet.
A few minutes later, she heard voices coming towards her, becoming clearer as they came closer.
"Your days are numbered, mate!"
"Look, if we could just talk about this, we could work somethin' out-"
"You'll go in the brig where you belong."
Three men burst in, two almost carrying the third, who was dishevelled and long-haired.
"Go in there with 'er… she looks lonely," sniggered one.
"Her?"
They unlocked the cage and shoved the man inside. Mary skirted out of the way as he crashed into the wall. She took a look at him, and fear was replaced with disbelief.
"Well, I'll be damned… Jack Sparrow!"
Well I hope you enjoyed it, I'll be posting the next chapter up soon, and as I said, there'll be much more Jack in that one! Please review!
