Iliad
A fanfiction by Genesis Wolfe
A Note to the Reader: In case any of this story looks familiar to you, yes, this is basically a re-posting of this story. I've decided to take a new direction with it, and therefore, took it down, edited, revamped, and renamed it Iliad in order to follow the new theme it will be taking. So, with that little piece of trivia out of the way, I give you the story of a young woman named Robin Silver and how she became a pirate in name and reputation.
Chapter Three: She's Alive
He was smiling. No, sneering, his eyes mocking her pain and fear with an amused, sickening grin. Her eyes flooded with tears of terror as she screamed for her father.
"Papi! Papi!"
"Let 'er go! Please let 'er go, she's jus' a child!"
The bad man moved out of her sight. She felt the other men touching her bared back, reaching farther down to touch her in places she knew they shouldn't touch.
"Did you know," said the bad man, "that children heal from wounds at twice the speed of adults?"
"Leave 'er be!" She heard the jangling of heavy chains, the sound of her father struggling against his binds. "She's never done anythin'. Do whatever ye want t' me, but let 'er go. Please!"
"But your little daughter will be ever so useful to me, Silver," the bad man replied. He walked back over to her, kneeling down and lifting her head from the table she was tied to. She saw his piercing eyes, a brown color that burned almost red, the strangest eyes she'd ever seen.
"Make sure it's deep," the bad man said, straightening and handing one of the others a beaten piece of parchment before turning and walking out the door. She heard her father gasp and struggle to release himself.
"Don't ye touch 'er! I swear I'll kill every one o' ye if ye so much as pluck a hair from 'er head!"
A strong hand was placed on her back, and two others held down her thin, pale arms. She felt, momentarily, a thin, cold silver of sensation on her back.
OoOoOoOoO
Robin woke up with a start, face coated with a cold sweat, breath ragged. She sat up, and as the fog over her eyes cleared, she took in her surroundings. A small circle of light shone from high in the wooden wall to her right, and steel bars surrounded the rest of the space she inhabited. She was locked in a cell.
"What the hell?" she said, trying desperately to remember what had happened. She glanced at the door of the cell and found the answer to her inquiries. At least a dozen pirates, a motley crew to be sure, stood at the bars of her cell, staring at her expectantly. She suddenly felt a chill, and looked down at herself, yelping in indignation at the sight of her underwear, covering herself.
"Where's my dress, ye stupid, reeking apes?" she yelled. Leering eyes and mischievous chuckles were her only reply.
"Let me out!" She yelled, leaping at the door of the cell in
a swift frenzy. The force made the whole cell rattle, and the pirates stepped back instinctively, gaping as the caged woman clawed and kicked at the door. As she realized her efforts were hopeless, she gave up, shuffling to the back of her cage, the bars cold against her bare back.
"Pretty little thing," one pirate said, bending at the waist as if observing her more closely. "Bit scrawny. Not much on top at all."
The other pirates sneered, some laughing, encouraging the man.
"I'll bet she's an absolute tiger i' the sack, though, eh mates?" he said, turning to his companions and making vulgar movements with his hips. At first she grimaced, but his movements made a glint of silver catch her wandering eye.
As he closed his eyes in his offensive act, she leapt to the front of the cage, snatching the dagger from his belt and reaching at his head. She pulled him back by the hair, catching his head roughly against the bars and holding the dagger to the soft flesh of his throat. The other men gasped and backed away again.
"Let me go, ye filthy rats, or I'll swab the deck wi' his very blood," she threatened, pressing the knife in just enough to draw a thin line of blood to prove her point. Her eyes glanced from one pirate's face to another, not missing the fleeing back of one of them who bounded up the steps to the main deck, apparently looking for help.
OoOoOoOoO
"Cap'n!"
Captain Jack Sparrow stood at the helm of his ship, hatless and coatless, letting the strong wind ease the Pearl in whatever direction she chose to go. His only response to the cry of his crewman was a slight inclination of the head in the voice's general direction.
"The girl!" The young man, whom the other men called Barnacle for his initial clinging nature towards Jack upon being made a member of the crew, was breathless, apparently from running around the decks in search of Jack. "The girl!"
At this, Jack turned around, giving the boy complete attention.
"Awake, is she?" he said, grinning. He had told the crew to alert him immediately when she awoke, partially because he wanted to have a word with her, and partially because he wanted to see the look of indignation on her freckled little face when she realized the predicament she was in.
Barnacle shook his head. "No. Er, yes. No!" he said, shaking his head with a feverish fervor. "It's Johnny!"
Jack's eyes narrowed, and he didn't allow the boy to finish, if indeed he was going to at all. He was furious. He had distinctly told the men not to touch her. He wasn't even sure how they did, as he held the keys to the brig himself. But ol' Johnny was never the most intelligent man on board, and likely let masculine urges block out the captain's threat of being hanged by the manhood in return for touching the girl.
Imagine Jack's surprise, when, upon opening the door to the brig and descending a couple steps, he saw a scene that would have been amusing, had it not been so perilous.
OoOoOoOoO
"Bloody flea-ridden barbarians!" Robin screeched, spitting at the others as they tried desperately to coax her out of whatever she planned to do to poor Johnny.
"That's rather odd, coming from a feral cat."
She was silenced, her eyes traveling up the stairs to the upper deck, where the captain stood silhouetted in the doorway.
"I'll kill 'im," she said, pulling Johnny's head farther back to emphasize her words. "I swear to everythin' holy, I'll kill the little pervert."
"I believe you, love," Jack said, his face serious as he descended the rest of the stairs. "I'm well aware that you're more than willing to take a chunk out of any one of my men here. And no doubt our dear Jonathan deserves it." He gestured grandly at the trembling pirate in Robin's clutches. Robin's eyes narrowed.
"However," Jack continued. "We find ourselves in a bit of a pickle, m'dear."
"What's that?" she asked. "I see no reason not to kill off the useless piece o' garbage right here and now."
Jack shrugged. "Be my guest," he said, spreading his hands out before him.
"Cap'n?!" Johnny squeaked as Robin tightened her grip on his greasy locks.
"Nevertheless," Jack continued, casually moving towards his men. "We'll have to kill you back."
Robin paused, green eyes narrowed to slits. Jack chanced a glance at the girl to see her reaction, and continued.
"Killing a pirate has its disadvantages, love. For example, his shipmates'll be mighty sore about it, and if you're lucky enough to avoid them, you'll have his captain to answer to, if you catch my meaning, love."
He watched, hiding his mirth as the girl calculated her choices. Slowly, tensely, the blade moved away from Johnny's throat and came to rest at her side. Johnny's face beamed in relief as her hand, still embedded in his hair, began to ease his head away from the bars. Suddenly, without warning, her hand shot back, slamming his head to the bars with such force that the entire row of cages rattled. She finally let go, and Johnny slumped to the floor, unconscious. The rest of the crew scrambled to get him as far from the crazed girl as possible, and Robin glanced over at Jack.
"He did deserve it," she said simply. Jack, while agreeing wholeheartedly, gave her a stern look. Her proud countenance fell slightly, and she looked angry once again, eyes blazing.
"Why am I in here?" she demanded. She once again realized that she was in nothing but a chemise and corset, and quickly crossed her arms over herself.
"Did you think I'd let you run around my ship freely after you took a chunk out of half of my crew?" the captain asked. His eyes traveled down to her underthings. "And I am semi-sorry to say that your dress did not survive the endeavor."
Robin scowled, and then glanced at the other men, who were once again ogling her and snickering behind their grimy hands. She dropped her eyes, ashamed, unable to cover herself properly.
Jack glanced at his men, understanding the girl's sudden silence. "Get on deck, ye scurvy dogs! This is no exhibition! Get on with ye!"
Robin watched in silence as the crew stumbled over themselves to follow their captain's orders. As the last one climbed the stairs, pausing to catch one last glance at the half-naked woman, a hand shot towards Robin's face. She leapt back, cowering in the corner of the cell.
Jack sighed, his outstretched arm still holding his coat. She hadn't even seen him remove it. He looked impatient.
"C'mon, woman," he said, shaking the coat slightly, in invitation. "I can't keep them above deck forever. They're bound to come back down. Might as well keep you as covered as possible, until we can find you another dress."
Robin hesitated, then snatched the coat out of his hands, wrapping it around her. It reeked of rum. She rather liked it.
"Thanks," she muttered, still looking to the floor. She glanced up. "A new dress?"
Jack nodded. "Can't have you traipsing about in your undergoodies. Distracts the men, you see."
"Well, I don't need a dress…"
He raised an eyebrow.
"I can wear men's clothes just fine," she explained. "That's all I used t' wear, before I was made house help."
"Really?" Jack said, leaning against the cell adjacent to her own. "And what, pray tell, did you do, in order to wear men's clothing?"
"I was a pirate."
Jack was silent for a moment, then sputtered into genuine, rowdy laughter. She scowled in reply.
"Well, maybe not officially a pirate," she said, annoyed. "Me pop was one, an' I was on the ship with him…"
"And then he realized what a mistake it is to have a woman on a ship," Jack said, "and deserted you at the nearest port."
She bristled.
"I'll not have anyone speak ill of me old man," she snarled. "He was a good man. That's probably more than you can say."
Jack's dark eyebrow rose again, studying her scowling face, and he spun on his heel, heading towards the door.
"Wait!" Robin cried out, panicking. "Where are you goin'?"
"Above," he said, not pausing.
"Please don't leave me down here," she said, half-pleading, half-demanding. "I'll work. I know me ships, remember? Please!" She felt her heart drop as he continued walking.
He didn't head up the stairs, as she expected, but instead grabbed a coiled up rope from a peg on the wall. He brought it back and threw it at the cell rather forcefully.
"Prove it," he said simply. He grabbed a small wooden stool and sat down in it, leaning back to watch her.
"What th' hell am I supposed to do with this?" she said incredulously. "Hang meself?"
"If it betters society as a whole, be my guest, love," he said, smirking and making himself comfortable. He tilted his head, beads jangling beneath his worn leather hat. "You said you were a pirate."
Robin frowned, looking at the rope. Inspiration suddenly caught her, and she reached a small hand through the bars, snatching the rope. He watched intently as her nimble fingers manipulated the rope, and his eyes grew wider as she progressed, forming loops and winding figures into the twisted hemp.
It took her all of three minutes before she stretched the rope out before her, pulling it through so he could see it in its entirety.
"Thirty-four enough?" she said, smirking at his impressed gaze as he stood up to inspect the various knots.
"Aye, suppose so," he said, taking the rope from her for a closer look. He nodded. "Well, you know your knots, that's for sure, missy. But you're still no pirate."
Robin felt her freedom from the cell slipping further away. "I think I am," she said, hoping he'd reconsider. "But I won't try to be, if ye don't want. I'll just help around th' ship."
"And be a distraction for the crew?"
"Put me in men's clothes, somethin' that won't show a figure, and they'll have no reason t' be distracted."
"Ah, how little you know of men," he said, smiling rakishly. "We've all seen what'll be under those clothes, love." He eyed her pointedly. "Think any of us are likely to forget soon?"
"I'll make 'em forget," she replied. "They wouldn't want an 'unfeminine' woman, would they?"
Jack considered this for a moment. "All right," he said, looking very tired. "I'll get you some clothes. But there are conditions."
"All right," she said, hopeful once again. "Anythin'."
"You're not really crew, you'll care to remember that," he said. "You're the lowest of lows here, no ordering my men around. But you'll stick to the Code, nonetheless. If you attack any of my men, you'll have a nice little trip to Davey Jones' locker, savvy?"
"I'll not attack anyone," she said. "But if they touch me…"
"They'll answer to me," Jack said, interrupting her threat. "You may not be crew, but you're still on my ship, and I'll not have you being hurt either." He glanced at her face, which showed a hint of gratitude, and smirked. "Which brings me to the last condition. You'll sleep in my quarters."
"Wha--?" Her mouth was slack. "You filthy…slimy…man!"
"Eloquent," he said, enjoying her outrage. "Keep your…ahem…clothes on, m'dear. I'll not lay a finger on you." He eyed her mischievously. "Not until you want me to, that is."
When she did nothing but sputter on unformed words, he continued. "It's for your own protection, love," he said simply. "My quarters are locked from the inside, no one can get in unless permitted. And what would you prefer, a comfy, safe room to sleep in, or a hammock surrounded by two and a half dozen men who only find womanly pleasures once every full moon?"
He watched her weigh her options, noticing that she had a nervous habit of licking her lips. He found it rather fascinating. He decided to do anything in his power to make her nervous as much as possible.
"All right," she said, hanging her head in defeat. "Not that I have much choice, anyway."
"I figured you'd see it my way, love," he said. He moved to open the cell door, and caught her pocketing the dagger in some hidden fold of her petticoat. She glanced up, unfazed at being caught.
"I'll not be on a ship o' men without any protection, captain," she said simply. "It's the first rule of the Woman's Code."
He found himself smirking as he unlocked the door, allowing her to step out. Watching her movements and assuring himself she wasn't about to launch another attack, he guided her up the stairs.