Chapter 23

*Trigger warning: Sexual abuse, domestic abuse, PTSD, and death.

*This chapter may not be suitable for younger readers.*

It was still dark outside, the breeze cold and crisp. The eastern horizon was a slightly more violet hue than the rest of the inky sky, indicating that the sun would be up within the hour.

The large windows at the stern of the ship lined the interior of Captain Jonas's luxury cabin, giving Cordelia a view of the northern horizon where she could watch the right side of the windows start their transition into the sunrise. She sat on the furlined mattress, unable to sleep. Jonas, of course, was snoring like a pig. He always had, and Cordelia had learned to drown it out. She was unable to shake an uneasy feeling, and sleep only ever came when she felt secure. It always had been like that, which was probably why she'd never grown out of sleeping in her older brother's bed. It was big enough. Even with her arm outstretched she could barely graze his back from where the mattress dipped from years of sleeping in the same spot. It was comfortable, safe, and most importantly, it was efficient.

Sure, she thought, That's what you tell yourself to keep from feeling like a big baby.

Cordelia sighed and threw the linens off herself. On nights, or mornings, like this, the best remedy she found was to take a stroll through the ship and make sure all was well.

She walked barefoot initially, the wooden shiplap of the deck damp with the night's sea spray made her slip slightly though, so she grabbed the closest shoes to the door: a sturdy pair of boots. Her limp didn't allow for much change in gait, and she'd end up with a cracked head if she tried walking down the slippery stairs barefoot like that. She descended to the lowest level of the ship. As she went down each flight the ambient light faded so she grabbed a lantern on the way. Once she reached the base level, just empty space with a few scurrying rats, she climbed the stairs a flight at a time, circling the floors and hallways before moving on. She tried her hardest on the guest hallways to walk carefully, but the unlaced boots clunked on the floor with every step, so she eventually shifted her tactic to shuffling the boots down the hallways as fast as she could. No women emerged from their rooms, so it must've worked.

She didn't care to be so careful on the crewmember's quarters. Some had cots, some had hammocks, but they were all used to the sounds of boots and busywork. They slept hard, only emerging to the sounds of battle, shift change, or the dinner bell. Not one even twitched as Cordelia inspected the rooms.

As she expected, she neared the top and everything was in order, which put her mind at ease.

When she approached the kitchens, and the location of the new medical bay, Cordelia felt a familiar tug on her conscience. She tip-toed in the clunky boots to the medical bay, where she found several sleeping souls. A handful of her men were staying there, recovering from severe lacerations and gunshots. She shook her head. If only they hadn't been taken by surprise. If only they hadn't been egotistical when boarding the Jewel, then maybe they would've seen the fight coming and Cordelia could've fought with her men. She could've prevented this much carnage.

In the corner of the room, two dark-haired beauties were sleeping. Brett was bandaged tightly around her waist and looked pale and gaunt. Stella, whose hand was resting on Brett's chest, was hunched over the cot sleeping deeply from exhaustion.

Martisha had agreed to help, thank goodness, but Cordelia still worried that it may not be enough.

"You just have to hold on 'til morning, little starling," Cordelia whispered to Brett, repeating the words her lost mother always said to her.

A small cough emerged from Brett's lips. Not enough to stir Stella, but enough to open her eyes. They fell on Cordelia's form.

"Brett-"

Brett sucked in a pained breath. "Ma'am, what are you doing here?"

"I, uhm. I guess I wanted to pay you a visit."

Brett gave a soft smile that pulled at her cracked lips. "Tell me a story then. I love stories."

Cordelia looked up to see if Stella had woken up, but her breathing was rhythmic and smooth. She was as far under Morpheus's hold as one could be. Brett watched Cordelia settle in next to her.

"I was only four when my dad took Jonas with him," Cordelia started. She was no good at storytelling, but who was she to deny this woman her request? She began with the only story she wholly knew. "He said that he was old enough to earn a wage. Fourteen was old enough to put his life on the line in our drunken father's eyes. The ship went down. Nobody knew how back home. Smallpox, lack of rations, pirates, or a storm. It didn't matter because they were dead and they weren't coming back." Cordelia drew a shaky breath, her mind transported back to the moment she saw her mother sobbing at the door, told the news by the Marines. "She tried to find work anywhere she could, but it wasn't enough. Not to support us both. So many friends told her to send me away, to find me a sponsor to live with, but she couldn't lose me. To be truthful, I wouldn't have gone. I would've held onto her so tight that it wouldn't have been worth the trouble. She found other means of supporting us. First, it was out of our home, but once we lost that she found a madame. I wasn't the only child either. We kids had our own room, atop the stairs and to the left. It stunk of mince pie in the evenings, but that's when we had to stay quiet. 'Don't bother the guests, or you'll be sorry,' the madame had told us. In the mornings, our moms came in one by one to collect us. It was a simple routine. Most days I was bored out of my mind, but years went by like that. It became home. The young boys had to leave and find work early, usually on the docks helping unload cargo. We got to be kids for a little longer, luckily, but I remember every girl that outgrew the kids' room. The fear when they realized that they were the oldest. That their time was coming.

"I think I was eleven when my mom got sick. She tried to hide it with powder but the sores festered deeply. Her yellowed eyes showed how tired she'd become. I was the oldest in the room, then. That scared me enough, so I planned to take my mother with me. We would've stowed away on a ship and ran away to the new world. I'd even packed a small bag with my food for a whole week, taking only enough bites to stave off the hunger pains. I left the room in the evening like we were told we shouldn't. I figured everyone would be so busy they wouldn't notice me, and I could sweep my mother away from that awful den.

"But, the fates were saving my luck for another day. The madame found me too easily. As she marched me back up the stairs, an old man called out to her. It happened so fast that I can't remember if he grabbed me from her arms or if she pushed me into his." Cordelia's heart was racing. Remembering that night was difficult, and she usually couldn't recall it unless she was trying hard.

"I was old enough for them. I don't think I had even had my first bleed at the time. It didn't matter because my mother didn't live to that day. She passed before the next winter, and I sobbed for a week straight. They didn't even let me see her body. The madame just told me that she was gone, and then sent me back to work that same night- the old hag." Cordelia took a calming breath. "I fell pregnant. At thirteen years old. My monthly time hadn't come, and the madame noticed. She told me what was happening. I knew what that meant for me though. I'd seen the younger kids grow up. Babies coming quickly from working mothers and growing up feral in the kids' room. I didn't have many customers, only a small rotation of men who would take me, but they came and went with the ships. Months without them meant that the madame had picked a man she thought was the father.

"I did know that some girls were lucky. If they were with child some men would take them into their household if they were wealthy enough. I thought this was my way out, that the father of this baby would take us in and keep me safe. When the madame invited this man for tea with me present, my heart leaped with joy as he was one of my wealthier clients. Old and hairy, but very wealthy. 'Destroy the child,' he had told her. 'I cannot let this become public. I will deny ever laying with that girl.'"

Cordelia wrung her hand in knots as she regaled her whispered story to Brett. She was so engrossed in her own memories that she hadn't noticed the soft footsteps on the stairs.

"The madame was a businesswoman, and this man was a well-paying client. The transaction was simple. He paid for my affliction to be cured, and they did not care if I survived the process. I did not know at the time I could die. All I cared about was if I could keep the baby growing inside of me. The second time I planned my escape I was wiser, leaving before the sun came up when the madame and the clients would be asleep. I did not pack a bag in my haste either. As fast as I could run, I went to the docks and found the first ship going to the new world and hid in the cargo. Before I realized the gravity of my actions, I had set sail. My baby and I would be safe. I lasted a couple of days at most but needed water. Badly. I snuck out from my safely stored box and tried to avoid any sailors. I did decently well until the cook saw me practically swimming in the water barrels. He clapped his hand over my mouth and dragged me to the captain. It wasn't bad enough that I was a girl on board, but I happened to be cursed with red hair. Many sailors begged that I be stripped and thrown overboard. The captain took pity on me. Unless misfortune plagued his ship, I would be safe. When my belly started to grow they told me I may even bring good luck in the form of a 'son of a gun'- a male baby born onboard. I never did ask what would've happened if my baby was a girl though. For months, I grew close with the crew. I wasn't touched, not even the threat of it. It was heavenly. The captain taught me what he could. I hadn't had a father in years, and it felt nice to pretend he was mine.

"It was naive to think that it could last forever. Pirates ruled the Caribbean waters and ours wasn't the first ship to be boarded. They snuck on at night, invading quietly and slaughtering the men as they slept. They weren't interested in hostages. I awoke to the smell of rum on a man's breath as he climbed into my cot. I screamed and pushed, but he was much bigger than me and held me down. I remember sucking in a deep breath as his weight was lifted off of me. The captain had pulled him from my bed and ran him through with his sword. He ran at me, sweeping me into his arms and whispering that I needed to hide, and fast. He didn't get far though as a raider turned a corner and knocked him to the ground, sending me flying from his arms. The scoundrel ran the closest thing I had to a father clean through with his dirty cutlass, not even giving me a moment to scream. I don't remember what clicked or how I knew what to do, but I picked up my captain's sword on the deck. I ran at the pirate, time going so slow, with my sword pointed squarely at him. As he turned to take care of me, I was already upon him. I was half his size and ran the point straight up through his gut. The resistance of the flesh took me by surprise, giving way with a pop. I swear I could feel the man's heartbeat reverberate through the metal that passed through it until it didn't any longer. His blood poured over my hands and he fell to the floor, taking my weapon with him. I remember how hard it was to catch my breath like my lungs wanted to leap from my chest. I scrambled quickly up the stairs away from the mess and crept along the railings to a lifeboat on the port bow. I quietly climbed in and slowly let the ropes drop me to the water below and floated away from the scene under the cover of night. Not one man had seen me go.

"The next morning I awoke in a pool of blood. I was sure it had been from the man I had killed until it continued to flow from under my skirt. Waves of rippling pain tore through my belly, and I screamed out into the abyss, my voice undoubtedly carried for miles. A day and a half of agonizing pain with no water or food had gone by. I thought I was dying, but it turns out my baby was. Finally, the pain subsided, my voice was hoarse from screaming, and a lifeless form laid at my feet. A tiny baby, barely the weight of a mug of ale laid still on the floor of the lifeboat. It was too pale and too small. It didn't matter though, because I picked him up and clutched him as tightly to my chest as I could manage without hurting his little body. I hugged him so tight and for so long, as if I could will the life back into him. I didn't even notice after hours of sitting there with him, that a ship had spotted me.

"They dropped anchor not too far from where I floated and rowed out to me. I still sat there, frozen in time with my son waiting for death to take us both, only for it to leave me alone and alive. I didn't even struggle as they pulled me into their rowboat. I refused to let go of my baby. I looked up long enough to know that these men were pirates too, but that no longer scared me. I was numb. They pulled me to the top of this ship, much larger than any ship my young self had ever seen. There were whispers and gossip as I reached the main deck. 'How'd you get here?' one particularly booming voice shouted at me. A tall muscular tattooed man commanded the deck and looked down at me with such disgust as he realized what I held in my arms. I refused to reply, looking back down at my child until he stepped forward and grabbed me by the chin. Instincts kicked in and I snapped my jaws onto his hand and tasted blood. The commotion and his yelp of pain must've stirred something in the captain's quarters because the crowd of pirates parted to reveal a dark plainly dressed young man. None other than our own Captain Jonas. I didn't realize that at the time, stuck in my own thoughts still. 'What is your name, child?' he asked me, and I replied, 'Cordelia Elizabeth Moss.' Suddenly, he was at my face, gripping my shoulders so tightly that I thought they'd pop out of their sockets. He toted me into his quarters and threw me on the floor, where I barely caught myself. He asked me if I was lying to him, and I denied it. 'Where are you from then, Cordelia Elizabeth Moss?' To which, I replied 'Bristol, sir.' Silence followed, and at first, I thought I was hallucinating from the heat of the day, but the captain cried. He cried so quietly as he came and sat at my feet, 'Cordelia,' he said, 'I don't know if you can remember me, but my name is Jonas Mitchell Moss. I do believe you are my sister.'" Cordelia broke from her story and smiled, looking down to find Brett asleep. Her smile was soft and comfortable and her breath rose and fell rhythmically. "I don't remember how long we sat there," Cordelia continued, "But I remember him taking my son and putting him gently on a silk downy pillow on his desk, before cleaning me up and giving me water and food. I fell asleep in my brother's arms, finally safe from the world."

Cordelia brushed the hair from Brett's forehead before standing to go. She turned to go up the stairs before hearing hurried steps running from her. "Who's there?"

Zylphia and Olimpia emerged from a corner.

"What are you two doing here this early?"

"Cook says we have to peel the potatoes before sunrise. We didn't want to interrupt."

Cordelia's mouth pressed in a hard line, before wordlessly turning to back up the stairs. The two ladies ducked into the kitchens to do their chores.

When she got back into the room, Jonas had shifted. The covers had fallen off of him and he was curled up tightly. Cordelia kicked off her boots and climbed back into the bed. She moved past the divet her body made in the mattress and put her face against Jonas's nightshirt. She brought her knees to her chest and pulled the covers over both of them. Only a moment passed before Cordelia had fallen back asleep, safely by her brother.

"Did I say you could touch that?" Florence sneered at Joyce and Adrian. She'd shifted their captivity from iron bars to iron shackles. They were free to roam the deck but were limited in mobility. Even if they wanted to swim for it, they'd drown with this much iron weighing them down. Joyce was fiddling with the compass on Florence's desk, ignoring Florence's vitriol.

"Do you want to lose a finger?"

Joyce rolled her eyes and stood up, meandering back to her fiancé.

Daemon appeared from the woodwork of Florence's new ship. He was toying with a wooden flute, before shrugging and tossing it at Florence. "Here you go. Got you a present."

"What is it?"

"A thingy," Daemon smirked. "For things."

Florence snorted in anger, before throwing it back at him. "Musical instruments are not going to help me!"

"Hey!" Daemon said, letting the flute hit him without flinching, "I worked to get that for you! It summons albatrosses!"

"How does that help!?"

"Well," Daemon pursed his lips, "Well frankly, I don't know but you could show a little more appreciation."

Joyce walked over to the instrument and picked it up. "Did I say you could touch that?" Joyce threw the flute back at Florence with a hmph before returning to her seat. "Daemon, you better actually have help for me. You said that we were going to kill Jonas and rule the seas."

"Actually," Daemon said holding up a pointed finger, "I said we were going to overthrow Jonas. There is a difference."

"Hardly."

"Look, you're worrying too much about the details. Let me work those out, you just come up with the big picture plan. I'll make it happen."

Florence grumbled and shifted through island descriptions, charter manifests, and cargo lists. "Well, I need a crew for starters. These two don't listen and you only change the direction of the wind when you're here, and when you're not you make it go in circles."

"Do I?"

"Daemon," Florence said through gritted teeth.

He laughed at her irritation. "Well, it's a good thing I know a lovely little holiday spot this time of year where there are plenty of available jacks."

"Where?"

Daemon only gave a strangely gleeful laugh before vanishing. The wind suddenly changed directions, likely on his whim, and the ship lurched to the side. It sent Adrian and Joyce flying off the bench in unison while Florence gripped her desk tightly with one hand, and her hat with the other, clenching her teeth in irritation.

I hope everyone enjoyed this. I wanted to do Cordelia's backstory for a long time, and this felt like the moment I was ready to give it to y'all. The next chapter is already half-written, and we will be going to the River of Whispers next! I hope you all are excited because I really am!

Please remember to give feedback and review/comment in discord or FF.

Thanks everybody for reading!