The Trouble with Women
Chapter 6
Un Jour Long
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Vivien had been escorted by the older man, Gibbs, out of the room she now knew to be the Captain's quarters and into a long wooden passageway. She had been led past several doors before the man finally settled on one about three quarters down the hall.
She had been led to believe it was a cabin, but it was no bigger than a closet. It had one small porthole, complete with a small cot, small chair and set of shelves. A lantern swung from the ceiling.
Before she could venture inside, however, several pirates barged in from seemingly nowhere. Then, she had watched, somewhat dumbfounded, as her chair and small shelving unit were snatched up and hauled out, leaving nothing but a cot and one small window. Then, Gibbs gave her a push forward and the door had been slammed shut and locked without a word. Vivien was left in her own company.
But only for a moment.
A crewmember slipped back into the room, looking very wary, snatched up the lantern, tossed down a candle and cover with one match and then scurried out as though the devil himself was on his heels.
That was how Vivien found herself, alone in a bare room with nothing but a sparsely furnished cot and half-used candle to keep her company.
She slowly inspected the bed, watching it suspiciously for a moment before deciding to sit down. There was no telling if it was infested with rats, and a nightgown was hardly protection against such repulsive things.
Slowly, Vivien's eyes drifted to the window, which sat opposite her, and she lacked the courage to step up and look out. She was afraid of what she would see. A vast, empty landscape of blue water, connecting to the lonely sky and fickle clouds? No doubt that was what awaited her. An ocean of emptiness. Loneliness.
Her mind drifted back to the conversation she had had with Jack Sparrow, captain of the pirate ship. He had spoken of her father's map, her father's treasure. Her treasure. And he had asked her if she knew where it was. And foolishly, she had answered yes. The answer was no. No, she didn't know where her father's treasure was – besides the fact that it lay somewhere in the Caribbean. Maybe, if she had been more competent in map reading, she could have figured out the exact island, but she wasn't. So, she had dug herself into a deep hole that she was sure she would never get out of. Bon travail, Vivien…she scolded herself mentally.
A sudden knock on the door made her jump, and wide hazel eyes snapped to the locked door. What was the point, she wondered, of knocking when the door was locked? She didn't know, and cast her thoughts aside as she heard the familiar clicking of the lock. Quickly, she pulled in on herself, huddling in the corner on the cot, trying to get as far away from the door as possible. If there was one thing she had ever learned in her worthless life, it was that pirates sont mauvais!
Slowly, the door swung open, squeaking unpleasantly on its hinges and Vivien watched as the man she knew as Mr. Gibbs step into the room. She noticed he didn't close the door behind him and was staring at her with much the same expression as she was him: a disagreeable combination of fear and unease.
"Cap'n's orders that you have a dress, Miss Brideau," he spoke slowly, observing her warily.
Vivien nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak. She was too terrified she would say something wrong, and her punishment would be her death. But then again, the pirates needed her to find the treasure, right?
Vivien snapped back to attention as Gibbs took a hesitant step towards her, a plain looking dress held in his arms. He rather resembled a man who had been forced to do something on pain of death, and she had to stare at him with a look of profound confusion. The last time she had checked, she had been anything but intimidating.
And then she remembered. This was the man who thought she was a witch, and as much as she liked the idea of someone being terrified out of their wits because of her, Vivien really had to wish to branded une sorcière. As she remembered, witches were burnt to death or their heads chopped off, and Vivien wasn't keen on dying in either case. Non, non, non, she had planned to die peacefully in a large bed, sleeping soundly so the agonizing throes of death wouldn't be—
The man cleared his throat, trying to get her attention.
She took a deep breath before edging towards the side of the bed. "I'm not anything to be afraid of, sir," she stated quietly. "And I'm certainly no witch, as you seem so inclined to think." Holding her arms out, she beckoned the man to give her the dress, her eyes still slightly wary of a surprise attack lying in wait. She had been told by someone that pirates were rather talented actors.
"Deceit walks hand in hand with the devil," he murmured, more to himself that anyone else, and instead tossed the dress towards her open arms. He then proceeded to cross himself vigorously and murmur several words that she did not catch.
Vivien held onto the scrap of cloth like a lifeline. "If anything, I should be the one afraid of you. However, sir, I find it terribly hard when you are quaking in your boots before me," she answered stiffly, and shuffled back onto the bed with her prize.
The portly man stared hard at her a moment, eyes squinting slightly, before a hint of a smile touched his face. "What be your name, lass?"
She cast him a quick glance, inspecting the plain dress woven of cotton, its dark grey colour dismal. "I believe you already know that, monsieur."
"There's no need for manners aboard a pirate ship, Miss, we don't much care for the rules of polite society," he said slowly.
Lowering the dress to her lap, Vivien stared at the man before her and found that she was oddly unafraid of him. It was strange, she had never in her life not been scared witless of every new person she met, but yet here was a man before her, a pirate no less, who she found strangely amusing instead of frightening. Somewhat in indecision, Vivien bit her lower lip, eyes glancing to the door once more. Just because she wasn't afraid didn't mean she trusted the man.
"Vivien," she answered simply, for she had never been one for greetings and chitchat and pleasantries, simply because she couldn't remember or take part in them.
The pirate before her, Gibbs, seemed to regard her as more of a human now that she had a name to her, and she watched as he gave a slight grin.
"Joshamee Gibbs, then, first mate aboard the Black Pearl."
She stared at him. "The Black Pearl?" she questioned, the very name sending shivers down her spine.
He nodded solemnly. "The name o' the ship you're sailing upon, missy."
She didn't like the name, so she fell silent, finding nothing more to speak of.
Gibbs cleared his throat. "Cap'n Jack'll be wanting your company for dinner tonight, but until then I suggest you get settled. Lunch will be ready soon, so be ready. No need fretting over anything that's already come to pass."
Staring at him strangely for a moment, Vivien finally nodded. What was it about this man's company that put her at such ease? She didn't know, and was somewhat sad to see him nod his head briskly at her before walking from the small, empty room and locking the door behind him.
Vivien was left alone with her thoughts, and anyone who was close enough to her knew that was never a good thing. Leaving alone a woman such as herself was not a wise thing, for her imagination tended to get the better of her along with her nightmares.
She had a feeling it was going to be un jour long.
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French Translations:
Bon travail – good work
Pirates sont mauvais! – Pirates are bad!
Un jour long – a long day
--Cayenne Pepper Powder