Author's Note: My thanks again go to the one loyal reviewer. As for the rest of you, a pox on your firstborn. (Forgive me, but I do love that phrase. Too many wizard movies in this house, I guess.) I ask so little! (Need I remind you?) Please request, comment, or criticize. All are welcome. Thank you. –Little Redd.

Chapter Five: This Little Light of Mine

Marieke watched the strange man from the corner of one eye while James stood at the window sill, thoroughly enjoying the whole evening. She feigned disinterest, but James fascinated her in every way.

He was a man, for one, a criminal marching to the fast and thrilling beat of his own drum. He told wild tales of life-threatening adventure and intrigue, and it was clear that having such an adoring audience thrilled him.

Marieke frowned, noting the swagger and slur of speech. His drunkenness bothered her. While the drink instilled confidence, it often made men such as he too brash, too brave, bold, and reckless. James strutted about the room like a great peacock, waving the bottle about like a sword while recounting tales of previous victories.

James sobered a little and leaned in to brush her cheek with one hand. "I had a sister, once. Looked jus' like you, she did. Taller, perhaps."

Marieke swallowed nervously but smiled encouragingly while fighting off the urge to cough at his foul breath. "What is her name?"

James pulled away, stunned, it seemed. "Was," he corrected.

Marieke frowned. "Pardon?"

He shuddered and threw the drink to the wall where it shattered. "Her name was Victoria. She is dead now."

Marieke drew back, suddenly afraid. "I'm so sorry, forgive me. I had no idea."

James shook his head and swore under his breath. "Just go."

"Go."

"What?"

"Leave me in peace."

"Captain, I'm so sorry. Please, I didn't mean to-"

James, who had walked away to face the wall suddenly slammed one clenched fist. Marieke was frightened to see this seemingly impenetrable man trembling, and nearly ran as James turned to her with a manic look creeping into his features.

James reached for a lock of hair and laughed when she flinched at his touch. Leaning in, he whispered. "What would you say if I kissed you? Right now?"

Marieke pulled away from the mad pirate. She could see an old hurt in his eyes desperately trying to hide behind a façade of power and strength and was now very sorry for having pulled it into the revealing light.

"Let me go, Mr. Tynell. I wish to retire," she said slowly, ignoring the confusion in his eyes as she gently pushed him away. He was expecting refusal with a slap, harsh words exchanged, a bang, anything but the sad, though forgiving gaze she returned to soothe such anger.

It worked. James moved away suddenly before grabbing a bottle of gin on the side table next to them. "Leave me. I apologize. You may go."

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That night, a hot southern wind blew in along with the beginnings of a storm. The crew expected rain but waited for the seemingly inevitable outburst of rain in vain. Not a drop fell, but all around them lightning struck and scattered the seas.

James watched from the comfort of his cabin, seated cross-legged on a French sofa while toying with the white feather on an enormous hat. Angry and frustrated with himself, he childishly retreated to the solitude of his cabin.

The day had been unlike any other, he thought, and yet ended like any other: he was alone. Speaking of which, until yesterday every day in monogamous line-up his life had ended bittersweet, alone, but not lonely. Until he met Marieke he had never asked for more.

Funny, how a taste of something so sweet could incite thisevilgreed.

Nevertheless, Marieke puzzled him. Besides the occasional whore on board, James had never really met a woman. He had never liked the women of the night, who often caused trouble amongst the rowdy crew and therefore were not allowed on his ship. But Marieke was hardly the prostitute type. She was so clean, honest, and pure,- a breath of fresh air for one so used to London smog.

James shifted his weight slightly and lay back on the couch.

Typically, he would take what he wanted and be done with it. A simple kiss was all he asked but she refused him, yet the animalistic drive for instant gratification was no longer there when it came to Marieke.

A knock at the door startled James from his reveries.

James cleared his throat. "Come in."

Lam's round face popped in the doorway. "Captain, ah, James, a storm is brewing on the horizon. Looks mighty fierce. I just thought you might like to know, see-"

James smiled. "Thank you, Lam. I'll be right out."

Lam returned the smile and nodded. The man hovered there for a moment, hesitating. James chuckled quietly.

"Yes Mr. Lam?"

Lam fully entered the room now. "How is the little Mistress?" James scoffed, causing Lam to stare quizzically.

"'Mistress' indeed. She's a scullery maid," the captain responded. He lay back, fully reclined now with the ridiculous hat to hide his scowling face.

Lam was silent. "James, you're drunk. You know I don't appreciate it when you tease me like this."

"I reserve the right to get drunk whenever I damn well please! This is not a joke, my friend, I am entirely serious," James said while giggling to himself and taking another swig of brandy.

The Bo' sun stared wide-eyed, his mouth open in shock. James would have laughed, but thought it best not to belittle the poor man any further.

"By first light we shall sail with the morning tide and be out to Caracas!" James ignored the little man's dumbfounded expression. "If we don't make the next tide it'll be the noose for us all."

Lam finally spoke, haltingly. "All our plans, James! How could you-! I thought- I…" he groaned, and then sat heavily on the floor with a little "thock." The man shook his head sadly. "What now, Captain?"

James sighed, a great burden weighing down his broad shoulders. "I do not know."

Marieke slept fitfully, visited by strange yet all to familiar dreams. Waking with a start, she believed for a few moments longer that the nightmare was still upon her. It was dark now, but for a single candle that lit the cabin corner, fighting for the small yellow circle domain against a fierce wind.

The candle wept, hot thick tears of liquid wax on the earth where there it pooled and solidified. Fearing the unknown evil in the dark, Marieke went to the candle, shielding it, and was burnt.

The light shone in the darkness, its faint glow barely illuminating her face. A cruel wind swept in, and the light was no more.