Sweet Revenge

Chapter 3

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I awoke the next day on the bed in the captain's cabin. Pa's cabin. My eyes fluttered open and I prayed it had all been a nightmare. I looked down around the room slowly and as I tried to pull my hands down, I realized they were bound a thick rope and were tied to the headboard. I shuddered and realized it had happened.

"Yes it is true Miss Ridges, it did all happen," Charlie remarked as if he could read my thoughts.

"Ye scum," I yelled.

"I'm aware you may feel that way for awhile Samantha, but I'm sure you shall warm up to me," he said with a smile.

"After I kill ye I might," I spat back.

"Now, now Miss Ridges, yer father wasn't a good captain. I did the ship a favor," he answered, his eyes an icy blue.

"My father was the best captain to ever sail the Caribbean!" I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You are wrong Samantha, that title belongs to me."

"Ye be no captain! Ye are nothin' but a mutineer and a murderer who is damned to hell!" I yelled in reply, trying to keep the tears from filling my eyes. Pa could not be dead! How could he be… gone?

"I doubt that very much Samantha. Now we are on our way to find Grayson's treasure. You better hope yer father had enough sense to tell us the right coordinates," he replied, turning away to look at one of Pa's maps.

"Ye have no right to be in here. This be Pa's private room," I respond, chilled with the idea of him touching all of Pa's things.

"Not anymore… now this is our room Samantha," he answered with a smirk.

I tensed and said, "I'll kill ye the first chance I get Macey."

"Too bad you won't get the chance," he said, as he walked closer, looking down at me.

With that he left the room and I was left to my own thoughts.

Charlie didn't come back for many hours in which I fought the whole time against my bonds: Nothing worked. When he came if I was in the process of pulling on them to which he said, "It'll do no good Samantha… you are my prisoner…" he let out a large belch and pulled off his shirt. The scent of rum wafted towards me and I groaned as I realized he was drunk.

He took off his belt and smiled. "I've waited for this the entire time I've been on this ship. I can finally bring Miss Samantha Ridges off her high horse."

"Ye disgust me ye traitor," I yelled.

"Don't be so… mean… this'll be a fun experience for you, Sammy. Yes, I'm sure you will think on it the rest of yer life… though that might not be too long…" he slurred with a chuckle.

I braced myself as he pulled off his boots and then his breeches and turned away.

"Aw Miss Ridges don't be so scared…"

"I be not scared Macey. I jus' don' wan' to see ye." I muttered and he reached for me. I could do little to stop the drunkard as he pulled off my boots and breeches. His hands went under my shirt and he slowly unbuttoned it. I could do nothing but curse myself for getting caught in this situation.

Somehow I fell asleep that night and I awoke with the sun streaming in on my face. Macey had his arms around my naked body and shuddered as I remembered what he did to me. I tried to scoot away, but his grip on me merely tightened.

"Samantha, why do you always want to wreck the moment," he murmured, pulling me closer.

"Let go 'o me," I said, trying to push him away.

"That was quite a tumble last night Miss Ridges, why do you want to wreck the moment?"

"I hate ye," I whispered.

He let go and got up, looking down at me. I wished I could grab the sheet to wrap around me, but I couldn't reach it.

"Ye really are a beautiful girl Samantha; I can see why yer father kept you under wraps."

I looked away in disgust as he began to dress. "I found some clothes I'm sure you will love, Samantha," he said and picked up a bundle of clothing. From it emerged a bright low cut red dress, a corset, and some other undergarments.

"I am not wearing that," I said.

"Either you wear this or you wear nothing at all," he ordered with a smile and I scowled as he cut the rope from the bed, still leaving my hands tied together.

"It might be a 'lil difficult to get me hands through the sleeves Charlie," I said and he cut the rope, keeping a firm grip on my hands. I pulled the bodice on, mostly just to have something on so he couldn't stare at my bare body. He let go of my hands to pull on the corset and I elbowed him in the stomach and pulled his knife from his belt.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Samantha," he warned. "The crew will kill you as soon as you step out of the room."

"At least ye will be dead though," I replied, and readied myself to hurl the knife into his chest. The door flew open and I heard a gun cock.

"Now Miss Ridges, I don' wanna have to be pullin' this trigger…" the man said.

My attention diverted for a second, Macey pulled out his own gun and pointed it at my face. "Yes Miss Ridges, I would advise you to drop the knife…" he said. I was defeated and I knew it. I dropped the knife.

"Much better Miss Ridges," Macey said and beckoned the crewmember. "Point that gun right at her skull. If she makes a move for a weapon—shoot her."

"Yes, Cap'n," the man replied, aiming his gun.

Charlie picked up the corset again and pulled it on my body. He went to extra lengths to make it as tight as possible so I could barely walk, much less run. "Put on the dress," he ordered, and I grabbed it from him and he buttoned it up. I felt so weighted down, I knew escape would be impossible.

"Now Samantha, I would appreciate you accompanying me out to the deck," he said in a mock gentry accent.

"Accompany yerself," I muttered back and walked out in front of him. He followed me out and grabbed my arm. I elbowed him in the gut again and he muttered a curse and slapped me across the face.

"Don't do that again," he ordered and pushed me to the railing. It hurt a little of course, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction for my pain.

"I'll do whatever I damn well want," I yelled in reply. The crew stared at us: some in amusement, some in annoyance.

"I highly doubt that…" he whispered into my ear, wrapping his arms around me.

"What do ye want from me?" I asked slowly as he ran his hand through my hair.

"Jus' want to make sure yer dear ol' dad gave us the right coordinates…" he answered.

"He did, ye might as well let me go then." All I wanted was revenge… but there was no way to accomplish that and stay alive.

"After the treasure."

1 week later

After that horrible week of sharing Macey's bed we arrived at the island of Grayson's treasure. Pa had told them the right coordinates—he wanted me to be safe. After bringing back all the treasure to the Sunrise, Charlie looked at me with annoyance and said, "I don't believe I need you anymore Miss Ridges."

"Good, then drop me off in some port and leave me alone," I returned.

"That is much too easy Samantha. I was considering… well why not leave you there?" he asked with a smile, as he pointed back to the island which we had anchored right near.

I raised my eyebrows in return; I had hoped to find a better arrangement.

At my uncertain glance he smiled further and said, "Yes… I believe that is a very fine arrangement."

"At least I'll be getting away from ye," I muttered and walked to the plank. I was dressed in another one of the dresses and I ripped it off and threw it in the ocean. "Can't expect me to swim in that damn thing," I replied to his questioning glance. I tried to undue the corset, but of course Charlie had knotted it so it would be impossible without help from him.

"Get this off of me," I ordered and stood in front of him. He pulled out a knife and sliced off the corset, leaving me in my bodice.

As I readied myself to jump, he grabbed a pistol out of his belt and threw it at me. "In case you get hungry," he whispered as he leaned forward. I looked down at it, knowing full well what he meant and thought to throw it back at him.

"I swear I'll get off this island and kill ye Macey!" I yelled at him. I raised my voice further and yelled, "I swear I'll kill all of ye and ye shall all rot in hell!"

Charlie chuckled at this and leaned forward, "I'd be more worried 'bout getting off that island Sammy," with that he reached out and pushed me off the ship, sending me swimming to shore, clutching the pistol in my fingers.