Chapter fifteen: The tyrants' face is red

"Mack, if you don't get that damn animal out of the bed"– My eyes snapped open at Jack's threat. The ships cat, cheerily called Stupid, was kneading the blankets and purring audibly. I picked it up and set it down on the floor and went to roll over. Jack grunted back to sleep, but the cat nimbly jumped up on the bed again. This time avoiding going near Jack, and curling up in a ball at my feet.

"Its on the bed again, isn't it?" Jack muttered from under the covers. I nodded, then said yes, knowing he couldn't see me. Without another word, Jack got up, pulled on his pants and shirt, then stormed out of the room.

I rolled over on my back and rubbed my eyes. It was around four or five, and the sun was due up soon. I stretched, and pushed the cat off the bed again with my feet. It walked out of the semi-open door, radiating hurt pride. I got up also, and dressed quickly, trying to avoid the chill that was unusually in the air.

"Mornin'," I called out to a passing Steve who was heading below and to sleep. He merely nodded, his eyelids heavy.

"NO!" A voice suddenly screamed. "I am NOT staying on this DAMN BOAT any longer! I SWEAR, I HATE IT!" I recognized it as Tara, and quickly went to the small cabin she was inhabiting. She was throwing her few belongings into her bag, her face full of thunder.

"I am not staying." She said, not seeing me. I looked around, though saw no one. What?

"Tara?" I asked slowly.

"Tell them to leave!" Tara moaned, pointing to a corner. There was no one.

"Tara..."

"Tell them to leave!" She screamed again. Jack came running in, and skidded to a stop at the scene.

"What the...?"

"Tara, just calm down, its ok..." I said soothingly, however, she quickly dropped her bag, and went tearing past me and Jack and onto the deck. "TARA!" I went after her, but it was too late.

"Man overboard!" A sullen cry came from the crows nest. I rushed to the bulwark, but saw nothing. I was putting my foot on the railing, but a rough hand seized me from behind, and pulled me back. The sun was slowly ascending in the sky, the water a murky red.

"Lemme go," I said, writhing in Jack arms and trying to get back to the railing.

"No," Jack's voice was loud and gruff in my ear. "Its too late. There is nothing we can do."

"Something scared her," I whispered, closing my eyes, still unbelieving. "She was Catholic, devout! She would neverhave killed herself."

"Are you sure?" I wiped my eyes and nodded. Jack was slowly pacing the length of the galley, his brows together in a frown, stroking his chin in concentration.

"Well, who or what could have scared her?" I shrugged.

"I dunno. I didn't even know her that well. But I know she was a devout Catholic. She prayed every night, crossed herself, said a prayer before dinner...everything! I mean, she makes us look like heathens."

"Well...we are pirates," Jack scoffed, and sat down besides me on the bench. We sat there in silence, until Steve came in, a look of irritation donning his otherwise handsome face.

"The crew is spooked. We are going to be in Maria tomorrow, they need the shore leave..." He sat down opposite the pair, and put his chin in his hands, surveying them.

"What do you think of it?" I asked Steve, running a hand through my tousled hair.

"Me? Personally, I dunno what to think."

"Well, Mack, you did mention that nun said Tara was not quite right in the mind. Liked to start fires and what not." I shook my head emphatically, and got up to pace myself.

"No! No matter what, her religion was important to her! She...just couldn't have"– A loud screech came, and Cotton's parrot came flying in. Soon, Cotton followed suit, and all conversation was stilted.

After we docked in a small little cove, outside of Port Maria, Jack and I went into the small place and into a rather run down tavern.

"I could use a drink," Jack admitted, sounding weary. We were soon seated in a small booth like table, sheltered from most of the bar.

"Excuse me," I looked up to see a rather ugly face of a man, a look of dubious pleasure on his face. "I know this must sound odd, but are you...related at all to Victoria Shane?" My mouth dropped open, and I saw Jack put his hand on the hilt of his sword. The man was thin and tall, with sallow skin tinged red from either too much drink or sun. He had blonde hair that was greasy and slicked back. His long hooked nose almost covered his thin lips, and his black eyes were shining in delight.

"That depends mate," Jack said in a silkily low voice. The man payed him no mind, but continued staring at me.

"You are aren't you! You are her daughter, Mackenzie!"

"Its Makensy," I whispered, not sure what to feel. Jack stood up, but I put a hand on his coat sleeve. "Leave it. You had best say what you need to, sir." I added in a firm voice. The man sat down in Jack empty seat, and a disgruntled Jack sat down next to me.

"So you are Mackensy Shane? I thought so. Your eyes...anyways, have you seen her lately?"

"Sir, my mother has been dead for a few years," I said in a harsh tone. He didn't look at all taken aback, and I felt uneasy. Jack gripped my hand under the table, and I squeezed back gratefully.

"Hmm. Yes. And you are?" He finally addressed Jack.

"Captain Jack Sparrow. Are you finished?"

"Hardly," The man said dryly. "My name is Thomas. I knew your mother back before she was married."

"Was this before or after she went to that institution." This time, the man was taken aback.

"You know about that place?"

"Indeed," Jack said stiffly, before I could. "In fact, we just came from there. What is your purpose?" He asked again.

"Like I was saying, I knew your mother before she was married, when she lived in London, after she moved from Ireland. I suppose that she moved back with you and your father? Well, we were betrothed." His face was sour. There was something about the way he said it, that made me think of something else. I tried to pull it from the depths of my mind so I could mull it over, but he continued.

"When I first met her, she was aloof...untouchable. A monarch in many other ways then one. She was a spitfire, and was untamable."

"You sound like your talking about a horse." Jack muttered.

Then it hit me. "She was aloof and almost untouchable" The letters. The documentations. The ones that Jack had found and handed over to me.

"You," I hissed. Thomas raised an eyebrow. Yes, I was willing to bet everything that this man was one of the ones who killed my mother. "Tell me, did it sting your pride or your reputation when she ran away? Or was it your manhood? Did you take a certain pleasure in making sure she suffered her last moments?"

"Mack!" Jack exclaimed, not sure what to say, but I stood up, knocking the chair over in the process.

"I.." Thomas stuttered, clearly perturbed. "I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you do!" I crowed in mock sincerity. "Why, you are actually wondering how I know. You wanna know? Exactly?" I leaned over the table, and whispered into his ear, "I was there. I saw it all." I stood up again.

"You are crazy," Thomas jumped up, his face red.

The old song. The one my mother used to sing to me. Part of it went; "The tyrant's face is red," and now more then ever, I saw it.

"No...you are." I reached for the pistol at Jack side, but before I could get it out of his holster, the man had fled the bar.

I jumped over Jack, ignoring his exclamations, and followed suit. I ran out into the dark alley, but he was gone. He disappeared. I gazed around, straining my eyes to see though the shadows. But he was gone. Gone. Gone.

"Mack," Jack came rushing out of the bar, and stopped besides me.

"He killed my mother," I choked out. "He killed her. He," I turned my face into his shoulder, and closed my eyes sighing. "He needs to die."