Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney. Enough said.

2. Despair

I almost made it to the next port undiscovered. But three days after I had boarded the ship, the ship's scrawny, ill-tempered cook burst into the pantry looking for another ration of rum and tripped over my sleeping form. Before I was even properly awake, I found myself surrounded by tough sailors, all smirking in a most menacing way and whispering to each other things I'd rather not imagine. It was all I could do to keep from backing away in fear and pleading for mercy.

'Well, well, what have we here?' sneered the cook nastily. With one greasy hand he grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. 'Looks like we're in for some fun tonight, me lads!'

'Get off me!' I snarled at him through gritted teeth, aiming an accurate kick at his shin. With a grunt, he fell to the ground, and I shoved my way through the clamouring crowd of bewildered sailors and up to the main deck.

I could see a port not too far from where I was, but I'd never been taught to swim – the master had always been afraid that if we learned, we'd be able to escape. I bit my lip nervously, glancing back over my shoulder at the throng of sailors pushing their way onto the deck and hurrying towards me, and then back down towards the murky waters so far below. A gust of wind swept up quite suddenly about me, and I set my jaw in firm resolution. For the moment, I was free, and I swore that I would die free rather than risk being recaptured and sold back into slavery. Taking a deep breath, I jumped.

The water was like ice, and my ragged skirt seemed to absorb more than its fair share of water. I floundered desperately in the waves, clutching at the surface of the water with my hands before slowly sinking under the water. The sunlight glinted through the surface of the sea, and as I inhaled the salty water, I remember thinking that I could not possibly die here below the waves, it was far too beautiful. Multi-coloured fish flitted about my face, streams of bubbles twirling upwards in their wake. I closed my eyes, hoping that I would die soon so that the agony of drowning would soon be over, when suddenly a firm grip about my waist jerked me above the surface of the water. Spluttering and gasping, I worked to catch my breath as the sailor who had retrieved me hissed in my ear, 'Now there, you wouldn't be leavin' us when we're so near the port, would ya?' His breath stunk of rum and rotting meat. 'Consider yourself lucky, though,' he added as his mates slowly pulled us back to the deck. 'If we weren't so near shore, we'd have certainly taken advantage of your company before selling you at the market.' No, I thought desperately, willing myself to fight back, to stop him from taking me aboard the ship, to the port and to the slave market, but I was too weak and exhausted, and all I could do was lie limply in his grip and curse my stars for making me so unlucky.

Within a few hours time, I found myself standing on the slave merchant's block, completely naked except for the shackles that bound me to the platform. I stared out listlessly ahead of me, no longer caring what happened to me, as I was sure to die from despair soon enough anyway. But deep within my pounding heart, I had the sweet knowledge that, if only for a few days, I had been free and under the control of no man. Whatever happened to me now, I had that memory to savour for the rest of my life, however long it was.

'Open your mouth,' barked the slave merchant, slapping me on the back of the legs with a switch. I winced, returning quickly from my reverie to the goings-on around me. Standing before me was the slave merchant, jowls quivering as he gave me a look from his beady eyes that quite clearly promised another hit with the switch if I did not comply with his orders. Feeling reckless in my desperation, I replied by spitting contemptuously in his face. With a howl of anger, he raised the switch to hit me again, when a small hand caught his wrist and forced it back down to his side.

'Leave her to me,' drawled an arrogant voice. I looked down at its owner, a short man in a white wig and a tri-cornered hat whose mouth curled into a sneer as his eyes looked me over lazily. Something about him, perhaps the challenge displayed in his cold eyes, made me shiver despite the heat.

'Aye, Mr Beckett, sir,' muttered the slave merchant, stepping back and glaring at me. I stared unwaveringly back for a moment before turning my attention to the man now before me.

'What is your name, girl?' I looked scornfully at the little man and did not reply. Suddenly, I found his hand gripping my jaw tightly, his cold eyes only inches from my own. 'Answer me!'

'Anamaria,' I gasped, for his grip was very strong. He let go, and my knees threatened to give out on me. I quickly regained my balance and, taking a deep breath, I shot the man a look of pure hatred that he chose to ignore.

'Her teeth look fine to me,' the little man said in a pleased voice to the slave merchant. 'Tell me the price – I'll take her.' He turned to look at me, the sneer twisting on his face. 'I find her to be quite satisfactory, even if she does need to be tamed.'

If I could have broken my bonds, I would surely have killed both men. I had been free not three hours before, and here I was being bargained for as if I was a horse that needed to be broken, and not a living, breathing person. But I had no choice – the short man handed over his money, the slave merchant grunted in consent, and I was led to the small man's fancy carriage and placed on the back, still shackled. As the whips cracked and the horses began to move, I stared straight ahead, watching bleakly as the docks that had promised freedom so recently slowly faded into the distance. I refused to cry – it would only have given unnecessary satisfaction to my new master – but it was all I could do to keep the tears from escaping the corners of my eyes.

The carriage finally stopped in the shadow of a large whitewashed manor. I glanced uncaringly up at its looming presence, almost as if daring it to do its worst to me. The door of the carriage opened, and out stepped my new master, a pompous smirk on his face.

'No need to look so sullen,' he said to me, quite aware that had he been in my shoes he would have been just as miserable, and not really caring. 'Anamaria, is it?' I nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. 'Well then, Anamaria, I am Cutler Beckett, your new master and the head of the Caribbean branch of the East India Trading Company. Care to get down from that carriage any time soon? I believe the horses need to be watered.'

He was waiting for me to ask him to take the shackles off. I would not give him that satisfaction, that undeniable sign that he owned me. I raised an eyebrow challengingly at him. 'Damn the horses, I'd much prefer to sit here a while longer.'

For some reason, his smirk only widened. Grabbing my arm, he yanked me unceremoniously from the back of the carriage, the chains that bound me clattering to the ground. 'I can already see that you're going to be quite a challenge,' he murmured in my ear. His eyes followed the curve of my waist and hips, and I wished that someone had given me at least a blanket to wrap around myself before I left the market. 'Thank goodness I enjoy a challenge.'

I gave him a contemptuous look and wrested my arm from his grip. He grabbed the chain that bound my wrists and began to lead me up to the manor, talking as he went.

'I actually bought you as a little congratulatory gift to myself,' he explained. 'Earlier this morning, I succeeded in capturing the most notorious pirate in the Caribbean, a feat which cannot be attributed to any other man in any corner of the world.'

'Congratulations,' I said sarcastically, anticipating a blow for my cheek. Instead, the little man stopped and turned to face me.

'I thought you might like to see the first step of his punishment,' Beckett said softly. 'I have no tolerance for those who evade the law and myself, and this should take any thoughts of escape out of your mind.' Without another word, he turned and continued to half-drag me towards the manor, dread growing in my stomach for whatever punishment the man in question was about to receive.

Standing by the entrance was one of the least pleasant-looking men I had ever set eyes on, who gave me a calculating stare as Beckett dragged me towards the door.

'Mr Mercer,' Beckett said to the man, 'bring the prisoner to my study. I would like to give my new piece of property a… demonstration, shall we say, of what happens to people with whom I am not pleased.'

Mercer gave a frightening sneer and walked briskly down the road towards the fort that I could see off in the distance.

'You,' continued Beckett, leading me to a well behind the manor, 'will go and wash up. No matter how dark your skin is, I cannot ignore the dirt and grime that is caking it, and I will not allow any more filth than is necessary into my house. I will have fresh clothes brought out for you while you clean yourself.'

He chained my left leg to the well, and then undid the shackles on my arms and right leg so that I would be able to wash and dress. I fixed him with a stare filled to the brim with loathing as he retreated into the manor through the back door.

As I washed, I finally allowed the despair that was slowly filling me to well up and gush out of my eyes in the form of tears. As much as I hated to admit it, I would have almost preferred to have been back on the plantation, under the tyrannical rule of the master who would have made me marry against my will – I was surprised to find that I loathed this new master, Beckett, more than anyone else I had ever met. I dried my tears as I pulled on the clean clothes that had been brought out for me, and the next moment Beckett had appeared at the back door, looking down at me with an expression of gloating on his face.

'Follow me,' he ordered, replacing the manacles on my wrists and unchaining my leg. Seizing the chain, he pulled me through the back doors, the kitchens, the elaborate dining hall, up a grand staircase above which soared an unlit chandelier, and finally into a neat office with wood paneling on the walls and expensive carpets on the floors. Guards in the smart red uniforms of the British Navy stood at attention on either side of the door. I looked about apprehensively, taking in every detail of the room, and finally I spotted the final figure in the room, the uncatchable pirate whom Beckett had spoken of with such contempt.

Ugh, I HATE Beckett... but I do love to write him, he's so deliciously evil. (Did I really just say that?!) Plus, it is rather fun to let various characters get their revenge on him... but that's giving some away, so I'll shut up there.