Bloody hell Tortuga was something else. It had a combined smell of alcohol, sick and sex. Women leaned over balconies with dressing gowns hanging loosely on their frames beckoning, promising a night of pleasure. The creatures that called themselves pirates were unlike anything Freya had ever seen before. The crew of the Black Pearl looked almost debonair compared to the likes of those who resided in the free port. With their beady eyes and yellow stained teeth they looked more like monsters than men. Every corner they passed was either the arena for a drunken fight or two individuals ripping off each other's clothes in an act of a primal nature. Having walked not even 200 metres into the port, she felt her innocence being torn away. Never in all her life had Freya so desperately wanted to drown herself in hand sanitiser.
"It's something else, isn't it?" a small voice commented from behind her.
Christopher walked briskly to catch up with Freya. His golden curls bouncing around his head. The young man practically glowed with goodness against the backdrop of sin that was Tortuga.
"You can say that again." Freya gagged as she tried to hold her breath as they walked past some outhouses, the smell overwhelming her senses. "This place is putrid!"
Christopher shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly. "You get used to it, even the smell."
"I doubt that" Freya mumbled into the palm of her hand.
Ahead of the group lay a tavern with a large sign swinging above its doors reading the 'Faithful Bride". Freya laughed at the irony. She bet herself a hundred bucks that there was not one faithful bride sitting in that tavern, only whores and home wreckers. The crew all shouted with bravado as they approached the tavern, excited about the night of drinking ahead of them. Freya could not think of anything worse than being stuck in that place with a bunch of drunken pirates. As the crew pushed their way through the door Freya hung back, dreading stepping a foot inside. Just as she swallowed her discontent and readied herself to enter the tavern, Jack appeared in front of her, stopping her from heading inside.
"No Lass, you're not heading in there just yet."
Unsure of what he meant Freya went to speak, only to be cut of when Jack grabbed one of her hands in his. He dropped into it a small brown purse heavy with coins.
"I promised you clothes." He looked down at her, laughing again at how ill-fitted the ones she wore now were. "There's a tailors down the road. Only come back when you look acceptable, savvy?"
"Wait a minute!" Will called from behind Jack, re-emerging from the tavern. "You're not sending Freya out in Tortuga by herself?"
Quickly Jack reached out and pulled Christopher back by his collar before he could step a foot into the tavern. "Of course I'm not sending her alone. Christopher will take her."
Looking confused as to why he was selected for such a task Christopher just nodded.
"You'll protect her, won't you lad?"
He stood up straight and saluted enthusiastically. "Yes sir!"
"See Will? Nothing to worry about!" Jack slapped him on the back and began to lead him back into the pub, not before looking over his shoulder and mouthing 'be careful'.
"I'd put that into your pocket." Christopher pointed at the coin purse still sitting in Freya's hovering hand.
She did as she was told, slipping it into the pocket of her pants. The weight of the coins almost dragged the pants off her right hip, causing her to walk with her hand in her pocket to keep them up. Christopher kept himself close to her at all times, keeping a vigilant eye on all those who passed them. They walked with purpose, side stepping drunks stumbling and tramps begging. Freya could hardly keep up with Christopher's long strides causing her to almost break into a run on several occasions. She was tempted to crack a joke, but the look on Christopher's face made her think twice. She didn't think someone so kind-hearted could ever have looked so stern. But as she had guessed, it was all an act as the second they took a step into the tailor's shop his face showed relief then shone once again with his gentle smile.
"Hello?" Christopher called out, his voice echoing through the seemingly empty shop.
The shop was quaint with racks of clothes of every colour and shape, all lit by the soft lighting of candles. Paintings hung on the walls depicting beautiful women and foreign landscapes. In the corner of the room lay a dog, big and brown all cuddle up amongst fabrics sound asleep. A small man with greying hair bustled out of a back room, struggling to carry a mannequin much larger than himself as sweat dropped from his brow. The sight of the couple started the old man, causing him to drop the mannequin. Christopher rushed forward, catching it with ease and put it down gently as the man tried to catch his breath. "Oh my! I didn't hear you come in. I'm so sorry." He puffed as wiped the sweat from his face. "However may I help you two?"
"We are here to purchase some of your fine attire." Christopher signalled towards Freya. "My friend is in dire need of some clothes that actually fit."
Scrutinising Freya the old man simply nodded and rubbed his chin. "Indeed you do, boy."
Disappearing back into the room in which he came from the man hunted for appropriate clothing. He re-emerged with a pile of the smallest clothing he had. "You're a short one, I very rarely get customers such as yourself. I mean that with no offence!"
"None taken." Freya smiled as she took the clothes out of his arms.
The man pointed her towards some fitting rooms in the left corner. "You can change there, decide what you think is most comfortable."
The first top was awfully scratchy, its fabric rough and hard. The second hung low, too low for Freya if she wanted to maintain her charade. The third, along with some tight dark brown pants were just right. To top them off the tailor handed her a black belt and boots to match. She studied herself in a mirror, feeling the eyes of the clerk upon her.
"There's something a little odd about you…" he began.
Christopher jumped in defensively. "What, odd? That's silly! "F-Francis here is the straightest lad I know."
He laughed nervously as he slapped Freya on the back, hard. Despite Christopher's attempt to be convincing, the tailor continued his inspection of Freya. Approaching her the elderly man reached out, taking her plait in his hands.
"My old eyes may be faltering, but they can still see colour in all its brilliance." He rolled the plait around in his hands, admiring the way it shone under the candle light. "How ever did you get hair this colour, boy? It is as if you dip your hair in rubies."
"Actually, it's really not all that rare from where I come fr-"
Christopher rushed forward, laughing loudly and placed his arm around Freya, cutting her off. "Ha, Francis. The gentleman doesn't want to hear your life story! Here." He took the plait from the man's hand and replaced it with the coin purse. "Thanks very much for your time, enjoy the tip!"
And with that they were back out on the streets of Tortuga.