New story. Erm...it's a bit rushy, but just stay put, alright?
Chapter one: A barrel of apples
The day was perfect. Days were always bloody perfect. Every day was always sunny, with thunder heads out on the horizon, but never any rain. Yup...always perfect.
But the small shop just by the large pier in the small place of Port Royal was doing badly. Hardly any business, and no one wanted to buy anything. Katerina leaned on her elbows, on the counter. Her small shop with a flat atop had a clear view of the ocean. But she never really looked at it. The ocean reminded her of her father. Her father reminded her of death, because he was claimed by the ocean. A big mess really.
It wasn't actually her shop. She would never be able to buy it. And it didn't have to do with money either. It was because she was a woman. She was going through a friend of the family. In fact...it all went through him. She only got around forty percent of the net profits. Which were none.
She liked to watch the sailors more then anything. She liked to make up stories about their lives, and most of them she never saw again. Occasionally she would spot a mysterious looking man. Most likely a pirate or privateer.
Katerina Lancaster was beautiful. But absolutely no one knew it. Only her mother and father did...but they were both dead. She camouflaged her face with rouge and her own little special invention comprised of dirt, oil, and axle-grease. Her long brown hair was usually pulled into a sloppy not at the nape of her neck. She looked much older then her twenty-three years. She looked like an old hag, really. She wore unbecoming frocks, also, that made her figure look oddly shaped. But she was happy with it. She couldn't care less.
Her small shop was mostly general. A little of everything. But hardly anyone came from town this far down to the docks just to shop. She sighed.
Bored. She thought. Just bored.
It took her a moment ro realize someone was coming into her shop. Well, actually he were running. He was...odd to say the least. His hat was barely on his head, and his misshapen hair was streaming out behind him. He burst through the door, out of breath.
"Quick, I need somewhere to hide." He gasped, coming up to the counter, and putting his hand down. He seemed urgent.
"Er...?
"Anywhere!" He practically shouted. Katerina saw him slip something into his pocket, but didn't pay attention to it. She was looking at his grungy clothes that screamed: "LOOK IM A BLOODY PIRATE!". His face was full of stubble, and he had a small two braided goatee going on.
"Um...There is a barrel over there, with a few apples in it, you could hide in that." He nodded quickly and ran to where she pointed. It took him a moment to squeeze into the barrel, but just as he lowered the lid onto himself, a group of men came trouping in.
"Hello!" Katerina said happily. They were all in the naval uniforms, and seemed out of breath as well. The leader, a man who looked like something fowl was up his nose, came forward.
"Have you seen a man, who by definition, looks like a pirate?" He asked, glancing Katerina over. "Odd hair, sailor clothes, a hat. Braided beard?" Katerina raised her eyebrows.
"Erm...no. Sounds a bit fake, yeah? Nope. Haven't had anyone in here today except you fine gentlemen." The leader looked at her square in the eyes. She looked right back.
She was trying hard to keep a straight face. Not from the pirate, but from the mans wig, that was slightly askew. He sucked in the sides of his mouth, irritated.
"Do you mind then, if we have a look around?" But now, Katerina was getting irritated.
"Do you doubt my word? Sir, I hate pirates. They have robbed my store. They killed my husband and child, forcing me to go into business. I would hardly harbor a pirate." The man was taken aback. It wasn't true of course, but it sounded convincing. He looked at his troops, and shrugged. They all seemed at a loss of what to do.
"I am very sorry, ma'am. But if you do see a pirate that fits this description, kindly tell us." He handed her a piece of parchment with a sketch on it roughly of the man who was hiding in her barrel of apples. He had ten thousand pounds on his head. After bowing out, the men left. Katerina went to the door and locked it. After there was a nice affirmative click, she walked back over to the barrel. She didn't know what to do, or say, so she just took off the lid of the barrel.
"Are they gone?" The pirate asked, blinking in the light. Katerina nodded shortly. The man slowly untangled his body and stepped out. He smelled faintly of rotten apples, and stale drink.
"Thank you, Mrs. I seem to owe you my life." Katerina snorted, and went back behind the counter.
"Its Miss. Come on, you're a pirate. You surly didn't believe that story?" He looked her up and down for the first time. She was ugly. She looked like fifty. But then why wouldn't she be married? Without realizing it, he took out the small trinket from his pocket, and turned it over a few times in his hand.
"What's that?" Katerina curiously. The small object flew back to his pocket in a blur, and she wondered if she even saw it.
"Might I ask your name?" He said, a cool facade slowly forming. She's seen it, he thought quickly, what if she really does tell that pompous ass?
"Might I ask yours?" She raised an eyebrow. The pirate looked around the shop, feeling out of place. He wanted to leave, and be on his way, but something was holding him here to have a conversation with a hag.
"Smith. Mr. Smith. I asked yours." She laughed out loud at that.
"Your name isn't Mr. Smith. Much too boring for a pirate name if you ask me. No one would take it."
"Would you like to come with me?" He asked suddenly, amazed at his own words.
"...What?" Katerina took a step back, and felt under the counter for the small knife she kept strung up there. He seemed to know what she was doing.
"You have seen too much. If those asses were to come back, and you tell them that I was here, and that I indeed had the erm...thing in possession, I would be dead. But if you come with me...I will pay you, and you could buy this shop. You wouldn't need to depend on anyone for money, ever again." He hit a sore point unknowingly. That was Katerina's weakness. All she wanted was independence and money would buy her that. She wouldn't have minded if she was raised to be a normal girl. But after her father died, she was forced to disguise herself, to make money. Now it was too hard, and all she wanted...secretly...was to settle down with no financial worries. What this man was proposing would end her troubles.
Or would it? It was too good to be true. Her logical side was scolding her dreamer to go back to sleep and simply let the brain think. She could just turn him in. She couldn't believe that much money was on one mans head. He must have done something terribly wrong.
"Im sorry. I am mostly owner of this shop...well sort of...but I cannot leave." The pirate was getting annoyed. He didn't want to kidnap her. She needed to go on her own free will. A small part of him didn't want to take her by force. She was hideously ugly, but something in her voice suggested youth, vitality, and beauty. She was regarding him with her chin high, and an expression of defiance written across her ugly face.
"You are not." He said shortly, putting both of his hands on the counter, and looking her square in the eye. His dark brown ones seemed shiny and full of urgency. They were cold, and had a shrewd mean look to them, as if they had seen too many things they didn't like. She looked right back.
"Women do not go into business, unless they have the money. I can tell by this shop that you are going through someone else. In fact...and Im just taking a stab in the dark...you probably don't even get half of what you make. And by the looks of it, you hardly make enough to eat." Katerina's head started to throb. She was tired, and wanted to crawl into her small cot, and bury her head under the threadbare blanket. She wished she would wake up and her parents would be there.
"Who says? Sir, if I wanted to, I could get ten thousand pounds for bringing you in."
"I can give you one million pounds if you come with me. I will give you a thousand now." And he produced a satchel out of one of his pockets. He shook it gently, and a jingling noise came to her ears. Her jaw dropped.
"What is your name?" He asked again.
"Ginger. Yours?" She lied.
"Your name really isn't Ginger." He said, sliding the pouch over to her.
"Your name really isn't Mr. Smith."