Disclaimer: Tis time fer me shpeel again. Aye, though I be a pirate, Pirates of the Caribbean be the one thing this honest buccaneer ne'er be stealin'. I don' be chargin' ye to read me work, so the least ye could do is review. I hope ye be enjoyin'!
Chapter 1
Stepping outside of the manor in her new dress, Morgan stepped into her family's carriage and watched the port draw closer and closer. The carriage finally rolled to a halt at the docks, Walter, her father's most trusted servant, opening the door and helping her out. She looked across the bay, anxiously seeking her ship. Her eyes stopped at a majestic schooner at the end of the port. It was decently sized, built for speed, made of a strong dark wood. The ship had two masts and two lower decks. At the head of the ship was a shimmering golden figurehead of a dragon, its wings spreading out to become the bow of the ship. The Cloud Treader…
"Look at that, Walter," she said softly, her eyes never leaving the boat.
"I am, Miss Scarlet," Walter answered simply.
"Isn't it beautiful?"
"Hmm," the servant gave one succinct scoff, "it is the perfect ship for you, Miss Scarlet."
Morgan laughed, "that's right—you were a fisherman once, weren't you?"
"And I find such finery a bit superfluous for my tastes." An elbow to the ribs stopped him from protesting further. "It is the perfect ship for you, Miss Scarlet."
An eager smile on her face, she set off towards the docks. Approaching the schooner almost in awe, Walter following in tow with both their baggage in his arms, she hardly noticed the stares of the sailors she passed on her way to her ship.
Apparently, the crew had already assembled. A large crowd of rather filthy sailors stood both on the docks and already preparing the ship for launch. Two men stood apart from the crowd, clad in rich-looking coats that resembled those of the British navy. Upon noticing her, the two stepped forward and nodded in military fashion.
"Good morning," said the shorter of the two. He had long blonde hair tied back at the nape of his neck, and was clad in shades of jade green. "You are Mistress Morgan Scarlet, am I correct?"
Morgan nodded slightly. "Yes."
"I am the captain your father hired for this magnificent ship," he motioned behind him, "although I must admit I have no idea in where he came upon the rest of the crew. I am Captain Allen Griffith." He motioned to the man beside him, who had short dark brown hair, and was clad in varying hues of blue. "This is my first mate, Mr. Duncan Miller."
Mr. Miller merely nodded again. "Ma'am."
Morgan motioned to Walter, who was placing their luggage with the rest of the cargo to be loaded on the ship. "This is our butler, Walter Howell. My father asked him to accompany me on the voyage." With introductions over, Morgan returned to a more interesting topic. "What was that again about the crew?" she asked Captain Griffith curiously.
The captain motioned behind him. Morgan looked over his shoulder. Apart from a few men who looked almost decent, which included only what appeared to be a cook, a blind man, and a handful of other men from the market, the rest of the crew looked as if they had been dragged through the storm last night. At first glance she could have sworn she was looking at a crew of pirates.
Walter gave another single scoff.
"I see your point." She pulled her parasol down slightly, obscuring their conversation from the rest of the crew. Walter stood apart, watching the crew warily. "You have the map?" Morgan whispered.
Captain Griffith nodded. "Of course."
"Then put it somewhere where they shall never reach it." Morgan lifted her eyebrows slightly. "And we must never speak of it again until we are perfectly sure it is safe."
"Understood." Griffith nodded.
Mr. Miller nodded as well.
"Then perhaps you should introduce me to the rest of the crew." Morgan raised her parasol and walked past the two men, approaching the crowd of rather grimy men.
Walter walked next to her, an intimidating sentinel in black.
"Apparently, most of this crew has already sailed many voyages together," Captain Griffith explained as they continued down the dock, walking amidst the crew.
"Who was their captain?" Morgan asked, curious.
"That would be me, missie," came a voice from her right.
Morgan turned to find a figure leaning against a stack of crates. His skin was heavily tanned by constant exposure to the sun, making his brown eyes glow against his copper skin. His clothes looked as though they hadn't been washed in ages, and his hair hung in disheveled strands, beads woven in amidst the tangles. Stepping forward, he bowed his head and took her hand in his.
Morgan's heart leapt as rough, calloused hands gently caressed her smaller, softer ones. He slowly brought her hand up and, eyes fixed on hers, placed a kiss on the back of her hand.
"John Wayne, I believe." Griffith finished, glaring at said crewman.
"Pleasure to make yur acquaintance, luv." Jack stood straight, releasing her hand.
For possibly the first time in her life, Morgan was absolutely stunned, at a loss for words. She simply stood there, color rising to her cheeks.
"Ye can call me Jack, l—," he stopped rather suddenly when he noticed the rather stern look Griffith was shooting at him "—m'lady," he smiled nervously.
"A-a pleasure," Morgan stuttered, grateful to have been able to speak at all. It certainly wasn't the first time a man had done that to her, but Jack had a charm about him that caused her heart to flutter. "I-if you'll excuse me," she smiled nervously and, with a small nod, continued down the dock and up the ramp to board her ship. Captain Griffith and Mr. Miller followed behind her, impassive as ever. Walking to the bow of the ship, where the two officers parted with her to direct the final loading of the ship, she looked out towards the horizon as the crew finished preparing for launch, Walter at her side.
"Morgan!"
Instantly recognizing her father's voice, she ran to the port rail to see her father standing on the dock, waving to her. "Father!"
Her father was still very handsome for his age, with warm brown eyes and short brown hair that was finally starting to grey at the temples. He was wearing his nice red coat and powdered wig today.
"It's beautiful, Father! Thank you so much!" Morgan shouted over the railing to the man in red below her.
"I'm glad you like it!" Her father smiled and waved, cane in his free hand, tapping the wooden floor of the dock. "Be safe!"
"I will!"
"Walter!" he shouted to the butler.
If it was possible, Walter stood even taller. "Yes sir?"
"Take care of her for me, will you?"
"Yes, Mr. Scarlet."
"Rig for launch!" Mr. Miller's voice rang clear over the bustle of the port.
There came a thunder of footsteps against the deck of the ship, shouts rising as the crew moved to ready the ship for launch. Crewmembers ran about, securing sails and tying lines.
"Weigh anchor!"
A series of grunts and groans succeeded Mr. Miller's order as a handful of sailors began to turn the giant wheel that hoisted the anchor from the depths of the port.
Men on the docks below untied the anchor lines and tossed them to the awaiting sailors on board. There was a succession of loud ruffling as the sails were unfurled and tied down.
Feeling butterflies dance in her stomach, she couldn't keep the excited grin from broadening on her face. She was finally on her way. "Good-bye, Father! I'll see you again in a month or two!"
"Until then!" Her father smiled and waved.
There was a loud crash as the man below—who, she didn't know—smashed a bottle of some alcoholic drink against the bow of the ship. The boat creaked a bit as the sails caught the wind, and slowly the Cloud Treader moved out of the docks and towards the open sea.
"Bloody waste of rum…" She heard a familiar voice mumble behind her. She looked over her shoulder to find Jack muttering to himself as he tied off a line. Seeing her still staring at the port as it began to drift away, he smirked. "Take a good look, luv," he smiled, his attention divided between her, the shore, and the line he was tying off. "We ain't comin' back for some time."
Morgan simply smiled. That's what excites me.
There came a yell from above them. Jack looked up as he finished tying off the line, then tilted his hat to her. "If ye'll excuse me, m'lady." With that he returned to work.
"Pardon me, dearie," came a softer, smoother male voice to her left as a thin, tall man in long black and dark blue clothing, which looked far too hot for this weather, stepped around her to get to a roll of rope.
Curiosity got the better of her. "Aren't you hot in all that?"
"No, ma'am," the man answered, not looking up as he worked at tying a rather intricate knot. "It be thin material."
"Like the garments the sheiks in the Indies wear?"
A chuckle. "Somethin' like that."
It was growing frustrating talking to the man's back. He did not seem to be avoiding conversation with her, and was in no way being rude, but he didn't seem to want to turn around. "Might I have your name?"
"Rackham. Garret Rackham."
"Mr. Rackham, why can't you look at me when I'm talking to you?"
Rackham stood slowly and turned to her, making Morgan instantly regretted berating him. Under his long ruffled black hair was a black piece of cloth, wrapped around his head and resting over his eyes. It was a shame—he was otherwise a very handsome man, and could have gotten any woman he wanted, if he had not lost his eyes.
Noticing her stunned silence, Rackham chuckled and patted her shoulder, obviously not at all offended by her brusqueness. "Don' worry—I get that a lot, Miss Scarlet."
Morgan's eyebrows rose in surprise, once again too stunned to speak.
Rackham chuckled again. "I get that a lot, too." Rope in hand, he turned towards the main mast and touched two fingers to his forehead in a casual salute. "It was nice meeting you, ma'am." He then moved to take the rope wherever it needed to be.
Morgan blinked, her mouth hanging open.
Walter, who still stood beside her, chuckled. "This voyage is beginning to look very promising."
About a half an hour passed, Port Royal long gone from stern, when Mr. Miller motioned for Morgan and Walter to join him and Captain Griffith in his quarters. Upon entering the grandly furnished cabin, Mr. Miller closed the door behind her.
"Thank you for coming, Miss Scarlet," the captain said politely. "Perhaps now we might discuss the relocation of the map?"
"Ah yes, the map," Morgan said, searching the cabin for possible hiding places. "Do you have somewhere secure we might put it? Any locked drawer will do."
Captain Griffith moved to a bookshelf on the far right wall of his quarters, muttering, "They'd be expecting that…" Pulling out a rather large book, he cut a slit in the leather cover with a knife from his pocket. Mr. Miller handed him the folded map, which he had been keeping in his breast pocket, and the captain slipped it inside. "Would this be suitable?"
Morgan stood there for a moment with a bewildered expression on her face. "O-of course," she finally answered.
"Good," Griffith nodded and placed the book back on the shelf. "We shall not speak of this again until we arrive at the island, and only in private. Are we agreed?"
Morgan nodded. "I'll not utter it to another soul."
"Not a word of the map shall pass my lips," Walter said with a slight nod.
"You are free to go," the captain motioned to the door. "It will be evening soon. I am sure you would like to catch one more glimpse of the sea before you retire. I'll have food brought to your quarters."
Morgan nodded and stepped out of the cabin, Walter behind her. Gazing off the starboard rail to the open ocean, she decided to kill some time with a good book, and set off to retrieve one from her quarters.
•••
An hour had passed since launch. Most of the crew had finished their work and were now reclining lazily somewhere on the deck of the ship, while others had moved into their quarters to become familiar with their dwellings for the extent of the voyage.
Jack stood at the helm of the ship, staring across the deck and at the open horizon before him. Miss Scarlet caught his attention at the bow of the ship, seated on a barrel, reading. He immediately noticed Gibbs uncomfortably eyeing Morgan. He smirked and, securing the helm, sauntered over to his shipmate.
Gibbs began mumbling as Jack neared. " 'Tis bad luck—"
"—To 'ave a woman on board." Jack finished. "She's the one who got us this fine ship, mate. So you gonna 'afta live with 'er, savvy?"
Gibbs sighed and nodded. No use arguing with him. "Aye, cap'n."
"Shh!" Jack glanced around him, making sure no one had heard Gibbs, then lowered his voice. "Belay callin' me cap'n. We take the ship when the time comes, savvy?"
Gibbs nodded. "Sorry, cap- er, mate." He walked off towards the stern of the ship.
Taking a deep breath, Jack let it out in a relieved sigh. That was close…