We sailed as fast as the poor, battered Pearl would take us all through the night, and into the next day. Using every sail the mainmast could hold, we were not making bad time, especially since the lively wind that had sprung up after the storm was entirely in our favor.
The crew were excited at the prospect of their grim voyage being over, and getting onto dry land to spend their share of the plunder from the ships. However, the closer we got to land, the more miserable I felt, I didn't understand it - even Anamaria couldn't cheer me up.
On my last night aboard the Pearl Ana was in command of the night watch, and I took advantage of the vacated cabin to retire early and be alone with my thoughts.
I looked around the tiny cramped space, and instead of feeling stifled, as I had on my first night, the bunk seemed cozy, the lantern's yellow light played on the familiar dull sheen of Ana's trunk, the whorls and joints of the sloping walls, the sliding of the shadows as the ship gently rocked.
I would be sorry to leave, I realized, very sorry. Oh, I was anxious to see my dear mother again, but not desperately – my old life didn't seem real. I struggled to conjure up any sense of longing for my flutter-headed old friends, for my dresses and for the long echoing corridors of my plantation home. I wouldn't know what to do in all of that space.
My lids began to grow heavy, and my thoughts unraveled. For now, I thought with the last thread of consciousness, for now I would enjoy the last night in my dear little cabin, and try and get some sleep.
"Where are they? I'm not going ashore without them!" I was hot, I was sweaty, I knew I was being unreasonable – but I slammed my foot on the damp deck and bawled; "Where are my panniers?"
During my early days aboard the Pearl, Ana had taken it upon herself to see me attired more comfortably for the Caribbean heat. First went my heavy taffeta over-dress, then the embroidered bodice, and finally the striped underskirt, and with it the linen-and-whalebone panniers that held up the fashionably wide 'robe a la franciase' .
Dressing only in my stays, chemise and petticoat had become normal aboard the Pearl. By all accounts, even in petticoats I was considered overdressed by Tortuga standards, however – I was not quite ready to walk amongst the general public in my underwear.
My panniers had become the great joke of the Black Pearl, when they were discovered. They had been worn as a hat, as an Elizabethan ruff, raised as a flag and used as a nest by the late ship's chickens.
Now, however – they were nowhere to be found and without them my dress didn't hang right. Without them it didn't hang at all, it dragged. I stumbled about the deck, falling over yards of soggy crimson taffeta, my blushes increasing with my frustration.
The crew offered no help, but simply sniggered at my impeded progress. After nearly a month of being ship-bound they were eager to walk on dry land and had neither the time nor the inclination to go pannier-hunting.
"What be the problem, young missy?" Called out a cheerful voice from the quarterdeck. Sparrow strode towards me in his easy, rolling gate and coolly observed me – ruffled, flustered and drowning in taffeta.
"My dress is too long!"
With a raised eyebrow, Sparrow drew his sword, and with a steady hand, gathered up the swathes of loose material and freed it from me with one decisive cut.
"Now it's not." He grinned, then stepped back to address his crew; "Why aren't we docked?" Then turned wildly on his heels and wandered off, whistling between his teeth.
Leaving me in a puddle of amputated dress, with chilly ankles.
Anamaria left off hauling on the mainsheets and strolled over, giggling when she saw my shocked expression.
"Don't cry, you've plenty more at home." My face must have visibly clouded over, as Anamaria's smile dropped like a stone. She opened her mouth to speak, but her face stayed blank and she simply gave me a quick squeeze about the shoulders before returning to her work.
I sighed – home.
Bridgetown didn't feel like home any more, it felt like a distant dream, whose fascination looses its grip the longer you are awake. Yet the Pearl wasn't quite home either.
I glanced over at the misty, early morning harbor. It had the nondescript looks of harbors everywhere. I doubted Tortuga would be my new home, so where did that leave me?
Alone, it seemed.
I jumped – why had that word occurred to me? I looked around, the deck was bare, and all the crew were crowed into our two remaining longboats.
"You coming Cath?" Ana held out her hand from the stern of the second boat.
Mustering a faint smile, I stepped out of my abandoned dress trailings and squeezed a space between Ana and Halfpint.