Chapter 33: Raking Fire
As it was on any other newly christened pirate ship, our crew (as soon as we got all the Frenchies off and waved them a lovely farewell with several blown kisses, endearments and in some cases, generous curses) happily perused through the treasures the Frogs had been stowing away in their hold.
Aside from the grain and other foodstuffs discovered, we also found a great deal of gold locked away in the captain's quarters. And, to add to our luck, all of the booty they stole from us during our sham of a defeat was all accounted for. Well, all of it was accounted for save for three fourths of Jack's rum supply, which my daddy was definitely not happy about. Pirating and pilfering would have to wait at the demands of our sober captain, and I was not entirely happy with that.
"What d'ye mean we have to dock again?" I squawked, trailing behind him with pounding steps as he languorously meandered down the polished deck of our new flagship. "I'm ready to find Mad Anne and steal Roland out of her grubby grasp!"
"And what makes you think that Mad Anne hasn't already killed the lad, eh? Or what makes you think that Mad Anne hasn't already found the treasure? Or what—"
"Fine," I interjected with a snarl. "Then why are we docking?"
"Astrid," Jack began, leaning back and putting an arm around me. "I want ye to look at yer mates." I raised an eyebrow at him. "Go on. Look." I looked and returned the same dull and unappeased response.
"I see nothin' but a bunch o' nincompoops what don't know how to bloody understand each other."
"Aye, but they managed to come together to get this ship, didn't they?"
"Yes, but—"
"They'll need more bonding time together," he interrupted, letting me go and walking off back to nowhere-land.
"So you're going to dock to make free time for your men?" I questioned, still following him. I figured that trailing right behind my daddy would become a new habit of mine.
"And to get rum," he added. "Can't sail without me physic." I swatted his arm.
"Some physic that is." I paused as he pursed his lips at me in a frown. "So where're we headed?"
"St. Augustine," he grinned. "And this time, ye won't even have to do anything. You're free to go on land with Cord and parade around town like lunatics. Then ye can come back and I'll have somethin' for you to do by then."
"Why can't I do anything useful now?" I protested, crossing my arms.
"Because you're not useful now," was his decrepit answer.
"You mean I'll be useful later?" I persisted, slightly hopeful.
"It depends on how un-useful you are now."
"So I'm not to be useful now?"
He shrugged. "Aye."
"For how long?"
"Until you're useful."
I moaned and rubbed my face with my hands as he (without a doubt) chuckled at my reaction. I had allowed myself to fall for his clever wordplay again and he must have enjoyed seeing my brain burn itself for being so simple-minded.
"Just tell me when we get there," I mumbled as I walked off in the other direction.
"Don't forget to practice yer Spanish, love!" he called after me.
Oh, to hell with Spanish!
Unfortunately for Jack, any further Spanish lessons were postponed at the order of the one and only Ana Maria. Apparently, little Cordelia, in her fervor to get ahead in her language studies, had inadvertently gotten frustrated at Señor Guerra for going "too slowly" (slowly, my arse). Therefore, it was no unnatural spectacle that our mustached instructor lost his temper when challenged by a petite, fearless girl. Cord, being the daughter of the aforementioned Ana Maria, was, undoubtedly, hot-tempered herself (when it came to it), and in response, she unleashed a series of curses in French that I was positive should never be in the vocabulary of a seemingly innocent ten year old tot. Guerra, clearly goaded by the unforeseen verbal attack and definitely not about to surrender to a tiny pirate lass, returned the belligerence with a medley of both French and Spanish insults, which threw little Cordelia into an unstoppable fit; that was, an impenetrable fit of tears.
My darling sister did not hesitate to flee to her mum, bawling into her hands as Guerra chased after her like a fretful parrot desperately trying to coax her and to convince her that all the horrible things he had said were but "slips of the tongue." Of course, while such a scene was taking place, I enjoyed every minute of it while snacking on a biscuit and giggling behind my crumb-coated teeth as Ana Maria entered the situation and intended to resolve the issue by slapping Guerra several times across the gob and thus interrupting any attempt he made to try and explain what had happened. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the Spaniard. Cordelia was simply thirsty for learning, and he was just not the proper teaching type. Therefore, he was justly removed from his position as our maestro (which I was sure granted him much relief). The only problem with such a solution was that with no more Spanish tutor (and thus no more lessons), Cord would only be all the more upset.
One would think that she'd be happy with her mummy dismissing such a grumpy trilingual man from her education, but Cordelia, despite her earlier aggression, was in love with the Spanish language, and with no further instruction, her despair only elevated to the point where she spent hours upon hours crying until she could cry no more; and when she had exhausted herself with tear-shedding, she resumed to a consistent sniveling and whimpering, two behaviors that I had very little patience for.
"Jack," I said, addressing the Cordelia problem to him with Ana Maria by my side. "You need to make her stop." He cast a glance at his not-really wife and smirked.
"Well, that's her mum's job," he stated flippantly, and although he was joking, he received one of Ana Maria's renowned warning looks. "It's not like she's gonna jump ship," he added, entirely unconcerned about the issue. "It'll pass."
"Oh, I know it will," I scoffed. "That's exactly why she's been moping about for the past five hours."
"That's not so bad," he replied, still continuing with his previous air of indifference toward the matter. "If her whinin's so bad, just plug up yer ears."
"I am not going to do anything to make her stop. You need to uphold your position as her father and tell her to cheer up."
"Ah. My position as father. Well… now that you've reminded me: Astrid, I'm tellin' you to go to your sister and tell her to stop her weepin' before I toss all her little dollies overboard, savvy?" He spread his lips in a broad, open grin, revealing his gold-plated teeth in all their hideous glory and I simply gaped at him in pure, fiery disgust.
"But—"
"Astrid!" And as if on some secret cue, Cordelia came dancing up on the quarterdeck, tagging Hernán along with her as she hailed me excitedly. Our father's smile only widened. "Hernán is going to be our maestro nuevo." She appeared so confident in her announcement that she even nodded as she spoke to me. I, however, frowned and was not afraid to display my distinct disapprobation of the arrangement.
"But he doesn't even know English. How are we supposed to follow along?" I challenged with the strongest will to never have to undergo language lessons of any sort in the near future.
"Easy," she said with a wave of one hand as she gently swung arms with Hernán with her other. "Like this." She then stepped forward and took my own hand in her free one so that she held hands with both the stubborn, grumpy British girl and the petulant, avaricious Spanish boy. "Hernán may not understand English, Astrid, but he can understand French full well."
"And?"
"So, to get through our lessons, you will say somethin' in English, and I will translate it in French. Then he will tell me what it is en Español, which I will tell back to you. Savvy?"
"No," I answered indignantly while breaking my hand from hers. "That's too bloody complicated. Why do I have to become involved in this? Get someone else. Get Baudin, for Pete's sake, but not me." And she slumped her shoulders and sniffled and sniffled hoping to get me to take back what I said, but I had already made up my mind.
"Please, Astrid? Please?" she pleaded, tugging on the sleeve of my shirt… and then on my pant leg, and then gradually pressing on my big toe with her small foot.
When she had stretched her patience to the point where she was nearly stomping on my feet, I consented with a monstrous "Faugh! Fine! I'll do it!" and was thus forced into a trilingual gathering of an unlikely trio consisting of a Lobster, a Frog, and a Don.
Lord, save me.
I felt ashamed to admit that Spanish lessons ran rather smoothly with our new tutor. Of course, initially being cross about the agreement, I said stupid, asinine phrases to translate, such as "There is a sea star in my nose," or "You smell like a sweaty racehorse." Of course, after Cordelia got the idea that I was not going to provide any helpful phrases, she assured me that she'd speak only in French from that point forward, which wouldn't work on my behalf if I was to get along with everyone else and impress Tom and Jack enough for them to give me greater duties. So it was no big surprise that I decided to comply, and as soon as I did, I discovered that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.
Though, I also admitted (secretly) that I enjoyed the lessons for a specific reason. It wasn't because of Hernán, and it wasn't because I got to spend more quality time with my half-sister. I liked it because I knew something Cordelia didn't just by simply observing her interact with the Spaniard who was most likely twice her age.
She liked him.
"We'll move on to age groups," I told Cordelia as we proceeded with our lessons. St. Augustine was already visible and miraculously, I wanted to squeeze in one more translation before we hit land. "Let's translate, 'I am such-and-such years old'."
She nodded and turned to Hernán and gave the French translation, and he rapidly voiced the translation in Spanish. He had even already started translating before Cord had finished her sentence, and I figured that he must have had a very thorough understanding of the French language.
"Tengo diez y nueve años," he returned, rather bleakly if you asked me. It seemed as if dealing with two rambunctious girls was already taking its toll on him, though, his growing disinterest in educating us did not stop Cord.
She faced him completely as she tried to regurgitate the phrase, and I nudged her with my elbow as she stumbled over her words purposefully so that he would correct her.
"No, Señorita," he'd say. "Tengo diez y nueve AÑos." And she'd stumble again.
I prodded her shoulder in the middle of her sentence and caused her to choke on her words yet again, and she whisked her head around, glaring at me with an intense hatred. I smirked at her until my eyes squinted themselves shut and piped up:
"How about we translate, 'I like H—'" She kicked me hard in the leg before I could finish, and I ended up leaving my joke off with a yelp.
"Dammit, Cordelia!" I howled as I rubbed my sore thigh. "It was just a little ruse. That's all. God, why—"
She kicked me again.
"Niña," called Hernán as he reached out to keep her from striking me again. He managed to get a hold of her while I hobbled off now having to comfort two bruised legs. Thankfully, that was the end of our lessons for that day, and we all took upon our docking duties as we neared the port.
We were fully docked but ten minutes later and Jack was already making his way to the gangplank, hat in hand. His orders, as always, were quite simple. The entire crew was free to carouse in the town as long as they came back before sundown with some useful information. I asked him if that included me as well and he said that it very well did. The only exception was that if I was going to go into town, I'd have to take Cordelia with me, and we had to be in the company of at least two other male pirates (to ensure our safety, as dictated by Captain Sparrow).
I knew, however, that Cord was in a foul mood and probably didn't want me near her for quite some while, and I was very much correct when I asked her if she'd like to go into town. She declined fiercely.
And so I was left with nothing to do and was obliged to sit on a barrel on the pier while Cord played with her dolls on the ship. I'd instigate friendly conversation with any sailor or person who passed by or with any individual who addressed me, which were few. Tom had gone out into town, as did the rest of the crew save for Gibbs and Ana Maria, and so I was stuck dilly-dallying on an empty barrel, watching the clouds float by and witnessing every nautical vessel enter or leave the port city.
"Ye doin' fine all by yer onesies?" yelled Gibbs from the ship, and I replied that I was save for the fact that I was bored out of my mind.
"Go into town then. I'll tell Jack that I gave ye permission, so ye don't have to worry 'bout gettin' into much trouble, lass."
Ah, finally. A good bloke.
"Thank ye, Mista Gibbs!" I shouted gratefully before leaping off the barrel and running into town.
My lack of spatial awareness miraculously did not interfere with my jaunt through the establishment, and I was surprised to find that I could easily navigate the area. It was either that or I was just lucky for once. I was also spared any man's wandering eye due to my unkempt appearance and shapeless garments, and therefore the safety of my being was not one of my primary thoughts. Rather, I had set out purely to find a bite to eat and happened to be awarded much prosperity in my search. Food was cheap, delicious, and unique, and I had used delectable viands as my guides through the streets and motivation to continue exploring. After all, I still had to find some useful information to report back to Jack, and I was positive that he wouldn't be interested in the varieties of Spanish victuals.
I had just exited a bakery with a meat pie (half in my hand and half in my mouth), and nearly chucked the half in my mouth out of my drooling jowl after immediately spotting one man I did not expect to see and was thus alarmed to know that he was there.
Acting quickly, I darted behind some ale barrels lying in front of a neighboring tavern and snuck in another peek at the fellow, hoping that I had just misinterpreted his face. I didn't. The person I indeed saw was none other than my dear brother.
It did not take as long as it usually did for me to process that if Roland was in St. Augustine, then his captain, Mad Anne, would also be. Though, what puzzled me was why the hell they'd still be there. Wouldn't they have gone out to find the treasure by now? A part of me wanted to do nothing but confront Roland and to hug him and bash his head in for being alive, and I was already inching up on my feet until I found that the surprises didn't stop at my discovery of Roland. Oh no. I was continuously hit in the face over and over again with wave after wave of intense shock.
Roland happened to be discussing some sort of secret matter with a rather large bloke whose back was turned to me, thus keeping me from seeing his face. I figured by his dress and stocky build that he was one of Mad Anne's pirates and that he and Roland were holding discourse concerning Mad Anne's orders for them or other private matters. However, Roland raised his arm and pointed down the street as if he was directing the heavy man to go to a certain place, and with a short nod of his head, the pirate did go down the street in such a direction, revealing not just Roland, but also my notorious new Spanish tutor, Hernán.
Bloody, bloody hell! Traitorous blackguard!
A horrified gasp escaped me as I shrank further behind the barrels and now my heart had begun to pound so brutally that I thought it'd pop out of my shut lips at any moment. I could hardly believe what I saw. Hernán was working for bloody Anne Flint! And soon after I made such a discovery, I put two pieces of information together and uttered another gasp when I understood that Hernán was probably spying on Jack for Anne!Good God! And the more I eavesdropped, the more I found out.
It turned out that Hernán did not only know Spanish, the no good liar. He was speaking fluent English with my vile brother and he was telling Roland about how Jack was in port! Damn him! No wonder he translated what I said so quickly during our lessons. He didn't bloody understand an ounce of French. He knew what to respond with because he could understand me. And now he was betraying his dear captain! Bastard!
So bewildered was I that I accidentally elbowed the barrel I hid behind and the clumsy thing rocked, then swayed, and then tumbled over, revealing me in all my meddlesome shame; and, stupid as I was, I got up at once, showing my stupid self to both Roland and Hernán who had heard the small disruption and faced me. Roland's eyes widened at my sight and Hernán merely raised his eyebrows. Seeing as it was a very uncomfortable (albeit dangerous) situation, I bit my nether lip, took a step back while chuckling nervously and then bolted the hell out of there as if Mad Anne herself were chasing me.
I sprinted to the docks wailing like a deranged banshee and rumbled down to our ship and the rest of our crew, screaming "JACK!" at the top of my lungs. I was thankful to find him, Tom, Guerra, and Baudin standing by the ship in a little circle and most opportunely interrupted their talk with my incoherent howling; and as I tried to explain to them all what I had found, Jack and the others did nothing but stand, a bit taken aback by my shouts, looking at each other warily as I made my absurd argument.
"Astrid, love," said Jack calmly, breaking my verbal string of panic. "Deep breaths, darling. Deep breaths." Tom demonstrated what Jack requested of me and inhaled and exhaled loudly through his nose, accompanying the act with appropriate, but mocking, gesticulations.
Nonetheless, I quieted myself down and when I had convinced them all that I was in a more audible mood, I blurted out:
"Hernán is working for Mad Anne!" And then I hurriedly shut up, clasping my mouth shut with both my hands. Then, remembering the part about Roland, I added, "And Roland is in some alliance with her too!" And then I shut up again.
Jack looked from me to Tom, who looked at Guerra, who looked at Baudin, who looked back at me, and I was glad to note that all of them looked just as bemused (but certainly not as fearful) as I was.
"Hernán?" said Guerra, fingering his mustache again. I had to let out a giggle. "But he's such a good young man. He wouldn't. I would have known about it."
"But he is! I saw him with my very eyes, and you know what?" I returned, my voice rising with every word. "He's a bloody liar! He was speaking English and he told Roland that you're here, Jack! He peached!" Jack, seemingly concerned for once, turned towards Tom and said, quietly:
"When he comes back, tell him we all need to have a little chat, aye?" He then turned to me and asked, "Where's Cord?"
"What do you mean? She didn't come with me," I stated flatly.
"Wot?" He crowed.
"You can ask Mister Gibbs. He saw me go off. Cord didn't come with me." I prayed that Cord was just playing some trick on us and was hiding in a barrel ready to pop out. But it was no trick. After asking for the ship to be searched, Ana Maria came back, worry fresh on her face, saying that Cord was nowhere to be found.
Oh, bugger.
"You!" Jack commanded, nudging Tom. "Go into town to find her."
"But—" protested Tom but he was put down with Jack's boisterous, "Oi! Go!" And off flew the Irishman.
We waited for a good hour before Tom came back with no Cordelia but with the rest of our crew, and by then the sky was beginning to get dark and Jack was getting antsy.
"Where's Hernán?" I asked, after finding that he was not in the group. I wanted to find him so that I could tear him apart for being a filthy, wretched traitor.
"Not part of the crew anymore, bonnie," replied Tom, his voice at a low. "He decided to… switch captains."
"That dirty cur!" I spat.
"Calm down, love," Jack intruded. "Hernán will be taken care of shortly. We're bound to run into Anne here anyway and we might as well be ready. Tom, get the crate. Baudin, Guerra, get your men aboard. We're leaving port tonight."
"But you didn't even buy anything, Jack," I aroused, surprised that he had brought us all to St. Augustine for re-supply and yet he had not stocked but one barrel of rum onto the ship.
"Well, if we manage to catch Anne, she's bound to have lots of the good stuff. Now, Tom did ye find that crate?" The rest of the crew passed by us as they made way up the gangplank and back onto the ship, leaving Jack, Tom, and me on the wooden dock.
Tom heaved up a crate and dropped it onto the floor, right in front of my feet.
"And why are you throwing an empty box at me, Tommy?" I posed, raising an eyebrow at him. He merrily responded with a grin. Jack laid a hand on my shoulder and leaned down a bit to look into the empty black cavity of the crate.
"Astrid, Anne's got one piece of cargo left to load onto the Pearl."
"That cargo being…?"
"You," answered Tom. I issued my glut of objections instantly and was only silenced when Tom picked me up without warning and plopped me into the crate. I landed hard on my bum and looked up at them both with blood in my eye.
"You ain't gonna trap me in some crate, Jack!"
"Astrid, I told you you'd be useful later on," Jack said, speaking to me as if I should have seen it coming. "And since Hernán has decided to stab me in the back, well… now it's your turn to stab Anne's, savvy? All I'm asking you to do is to stay in this crate for tonight. Then, when you're brought onto the Pearl, you'll break out and pose as some distraction for Anne or her men, just long enough so I can get my ship back. That's it. The rest of the planning is up to you, seeing as you have no problem making distractions."
"What if I can't break out?" I asked, doubting my abilities to break out of a wooden crate like a rabid, muscular beast.
"You will," answered Tom with full conviction. "Now shut up, take in a deep breath and get comfortable in yer new bunk 'cause yer not gonna get any fresh air for a good eight hours," he griped as he held the crate lid over my head.
"No. You drill a small air hole, you drunken Irishman. Yer not gonna suffocate me in a box, 'specially since I treated yer gun wound," I demanded with a scowl. The two pirates exchanged looks and both of them shrugged, and I took it that my wishes would be granted. Sure enough, Tom took out a pocket knife from his boot and poked a hole, about an inch or two wide, in one of the corners of the crate lid. Then he placed it over my head and trapped me in a cube of gloom before saying, "G'night, bonnie."
The first few minutes in the pitch-black crate were not as bad as I thought they'd be, but any confidence I had in my future comfort was eradicated as the minutes turned into hours. I could scarcely breathe in the box and I often had to wake from my slumber in order to put my nose up to the little hole to restore my poor oxygen supply. That in turn disturbed my rest, as if having to sleep in a cramped little crate wasn't bad enough, and therefore by the time dawn was approaching, my eyes were dry, my limbs were sore, and my head pounded.
I remained in a half-awake state until voices and footsteps became audible, and I perked up and noticed that Roland's voice was one of them.
"This is the one, aye?" he said. There was a soft tap on the crate lid, and I drew my arms and legs in, thinking that Anne's crew would tear off the lid, find me, and then kill me.
"Aye. We'll take it aboard," was the reply given to Roland, and I noticed the voice too. It was Hernán's.
Without further question, the crate was lifted up and I had to keep myself from expelling a gasp, holding onto the sides of the crate as I tried to stop myself from rolling about on the shaky trip back to the Pearl.
I suffered through several bumps, shakes and quakes before being discarded insensitively onto a hard flat surface. I was grateful that the impact of the crate hitting the hard deck did not break my only safety barrier at the moment, although the impact did do a number on my poor bum.
As the voices and steps faded away, I crept up to the little hole in the crate lid and tried to look out of it. The only problem was that I only saw darkness, not to mention that it smelt of reeking, wet, moldy wood. I must be in the hold, I deduced, backing away from the hole and then putting my hands under the lid with the intent to push it off. Only, it wouldn't budge. It was nailed shut. Dammit! You bloody liar, Tom!
I pushed again, this time using my head along with my hands and still it would not break free, and seeing as my upper body strength was not up to the task, I shifted position and put my feet up against the lid before kicking it as if I was kicking Griffith smack in his crotch (with a heeled boot). The wood splintered and cracked and my left foot popped out, except it was the only part of me that surfaced. What made it worse was that not only was it the sole part of me to emerge, it was also stuck.
Christ, Astrid, I thought as I tried to pull my foot back out, but the splinters had caught and poked through the cheap leather of my boot and if I yanked my foot out with all my might, my boot would still remain. Come on, you bloody—
Amidst my constant grumbles, I was able to discern the sound of someone's nearing feet, and I panicked and pulled all the harder. Whoever was coming must have thought of my outward situation with more than just mere confusion. What would one think upon seeing a booted foot sticking out of a crate that, somehow, was shaking with considerable force?
There was a soft tap on the crate lid.
"Astrid?" it whispered. I stopped fidgeting and recognized the voice.
"Go to hell, you traitorous—"
"Callate," he growled, cutting off my accusation. What followed was the sound of something metallic hitting the crate, and before long, the top of my box was pried open with an iron rod and there Hernán stood, a lantern in his hand as he glared down at me.
"Get out quickly, please," he ordered, offering me his hand. I declined and remained sitting in my cube.
He sighed and set his lantern down before heaving me out of the crate kicking and cursing at him, and for that, he set me down on the ground speedily.
"I'm not going with any traitor," I issued adamantly, crossing my arms and turning my head.
"Your brother is waiting for you," he answered plainly, disregarding my strict conditions and walking away, expecting me to follow simply because of the information he uttered. I frowned inside. Why was it that men always said things that moved me to follow them? Couldn't I ever disobey?
With a huff, I got up on my feet and miserably trailed behind him. He paused right in front of the door leading to the 'tween decks, and I looked at him, wondering why he was hesitating.
"You've been on this ship before, haven't you?" he asked, placing the lantern on a nearby hook and retrieving something from a cubby in the dim.
"Aye. Why is that important?" He didn't answer directly and handed me a dark and heavy robe of some kind, telling me to put it on. "What is it?" I questioned, as I put it over my head.
"Your disguise. You are a monk coming to bless the ship." He laughed lightly. "You've come at my request as I am a Catholic man, but you are not to speak to anyone except to utter prayers. Likewise, Mister Turner has also allowed you a safe passage to the closest monastery, and as he was the one who thought of this plan, I doubt Anne will have any protests." He handed me a rope to tie around my waist loosely and then placed a rosary made out of wood in my hand. "Your name, Señorita, is Father Rosario." He lifted the hood of the robe over my head so that it shadowed most of my face before blowing out the lantern and opening the door to the crew of the Pearl.
I held my breath.
Magically, we, or rather, I, was not harassed or beaten to death as soon as I stepped out. There were, of course, the occasional deriding comments about monks and priests and the like, but that was expected from a bunch of drunken, black-hearted thieves. Remembering my false identity, I began to imitate a monk in deep meditation, bowing subtly every now and then as I murmured under my breath, my fingers clinging to my sacred wooden beads; and I kept the act up until we reached our destination: Roland's quarters. Hernán knocked, brother answered, and all the while, I had gotten so used to my new identity that I did not stop bowing and praying until he had let us in, locking his cabin door in the process as he laughed.
"I owe you much, Spaniard," grinned Roland as he sat himself in a chair and picked at his newly apparent facial hair. He had grown a little bit of a beard and mustache in my absence, making him look strikingly like his father.
While he was exchanging his salutations to the Spaniard, all I could do was gawk at him. Now that he was up close, I could hardly imagine Roland in his sophisticated mid's uniform. He was dressed shabbily in dirty pirate wear, his hair was greasy, his arms were tanned, and what's more was that he had a tattoo on his wrist! What madman was I standing in front of?
"You're sister's here as promised," said Hernán, gesturing towards me while I looked absolutely appalled at Roland's appearance.
"Astrid!" he chimed, coming forward to hug me, but I backed away.
"You dirty, wily little bastard!" I screamed. "What the hell have you done to yourself!" He took a step back and observed himself with a shrug.
"I got more… pirate-like?" he answered dumbly, smirking sheepishly at me. I gave him no opportunity for warning and swished the beaded rosary at his face. He dodged it and laughed.
"Relax, sister," he said calmly, trying to soothe me. "All this? It's fake." He licked his thumb and wiped the tattoo of a mermaid on his wrist. Ink came off.
"Then why the hell are you boasting fraudulent tattoos?"
"You'll understand if you stop screaming and let me explain to you what's happened. By the way, appearance seems to be the key to success on this piece of hell on earth." He motioned for me to sit, and sit I did, after removing the monk frock. Hernán stood by the door, leaning against the wall, perhaps acting as our lookout should Anne want to spend some alone time with her First Mate.
"So what has happened, Roland William Turner? It seems like you forgot that Anne nearly tried to kill me and that she was the reason why Bennie and Dobbin and Andre are probably drowned and rotting in the pitiless sea!"
"What did I tell you about screaming?" he grumped, threading his facial hair again. I rolled my eyes. "I was well aware that Anne was, and still is, trying to kill you, sister. For a good while, I thought you were dead and if you must know, I wept when Anne told me she drowned you. I wanted to throttle the cunning whore, but I couldn't. Her crew was her power and they'd murder me before I even had the chance. I had no choice but to conform into her crew, and the first few days were agonizing. I was tormented daily." He revealed a scar on his upper arm and then provided me with proof that he was flogged by showing me the scars on his back which were still on the mend.
Poor boy. I apologized instantly for being so rude.
"It gets better," he assured me. "And I'm not being sarcastic. It does, indeed, get better. With Anne thinking that I had finally gotten my act together, she took it upon herself to make me her new favorite crew member."
"Don't you dare tell me that you slept with the hag," I seethed.
"All right," he said. "I won't. It's not relevant anyway. All that matters is that Anne was quite pleased with my performances, and she appointed me First Mate much to the dismay of her loyal and aching crew. They had been with her since the start and what does she do? She makes a spiny lad of seventeen her first mate just because he was devilishly handsome. I decided that I wouldn't shove my new rank in the faces of her crewmates. I found it a prime opportunity for mutiny. Therefore, when we docked in Tortuga, Anne had me in charge of the crew while she decided to go back to her roots for a night. And let me tell you, sister, I got a good deal of liberal ideas in the heads of those drunken dolts that evening." He gave a jolly whoop at the memory. "Of course, I was doing it for you, Astrid," he added. "I wouldn't let Anne's actions go unpunished."
"That's very thoughtful, brother," I commented. "But I do find your claim hard to believe."
"It gets better," he grinned. "While Anne was out in town, her supposed husband came on board demanding to see her. I asked the fellow why and he said that he had a mission for her. Apparently, some new strumpet got him drunk and robbed him of his money. I promised him that I'd get said strumpet for him if he gave me his alliance. I had him swear it. He did without hesitation and told me that the tricksy little baud what cheated him was named… Astrid."
Scarlet flushed heavily onto my cheeks.
"Now, about that," I began, but Roland hushed me.
"Don't worry. I didn't snicker to myself when I heard it. I laughed uncontrollably. Firstly, I just learned that you were alive and that you cheated yourself out of Tortuga. I thought it was bloody brilliant, sister. But, since this man, Nathan, I think his name was, promised his allegiance to me, I told him that I would have loved to do what he asked of me, but that Anne, in a fit of rage, had killed you. He, outraged at his supposed wife, came storming back into town. Anne was given a hell of a beating and our stay in Tortuga was extended from a day to a week. We didn't see Anne at all for that whole week, and when she came back, she was in no mood to jest. She had two crewmates flogged for no reason and then she wanted to speak to no one except for me. I used that to my advantage. I'd tell her lies every chance I could and she'd believe them, and while she was busy sulking in her cabin, I was busy getting her crew to follow my word, not hers.
"And now we find ourselves here. Anne is aware that Jack is close and she plans on getting rid of him once and for all. She doesn't, however, know that you are here, thanks to Hernán. And now the plan is falling exactly into place."
"What plan?"
"Astrid, Anne's reign is failing. Her crew hates her and she's hesitating to get the treasure your rings lead to because she hasn't gotten over what Nathan did to her. Jack's right around the corner and if he comes at the right moment, we can go ahead with the mutiny and maroon her on a bloody island. Jack will get his ship back and he'll have me and my crew. Don't you see it, Astrid?"
I nodded with a yawn.
"All right. That's the plan. What do I have to do with anything?"
"You're going to be a distraction. What else did you think you were doing?"
I paused in my thoughts and wrinkled my eyebrows at him as I tried to recollect everything he had told me.
"Wait, so Hernán is not Anne's spy?"
Roland smacked his forehead.
"Of course he's not, you idiot!" he yelled. "He's been spying on her for Jack. I came across Jack while he was out in town yesterday and we came to an accord."
My eyelid twitched at the information and I growled. Why, thank you, Daddy, for telling me that you already knew what was going on but made me feel like I was still important by making me do another stupid task!
"So what do you want me to do?" I asked tersely.
"You need to make sure that Jack's crew gets on board safely. Anne still has plenty of power and she can command her crew with threats. You need to make sure no one knows that Jack is coming. You need to distract the crew, Astrid."
"Why don't you?" I protested. "They look up to you."
"I need to distract Anne. Hernán can help you, if you want him to. Though, I don't know how he can keep the attention of hundreds of pirates unless—"
"Don't even start, Roland," I interrupted, disgusted with his tone. "I'll figure something out. But how am I supposed to get around without revealing my identity?"
"That's where Mother Nature comes in, sister," he cheered, scurrying to the porthole in his cabin and lifting it. He pointed outside. "Fog. Quite dense if you ask me. Now, off with you and—"
All three of us froze simultaneously as a horrid voice echoed from down the hall. Anne was calling for Roland. He hurriedly bade me to hide, and Hernán shoved me into Roland's sea chest, which was even smaller than the crate, before promptly sitting on it. I shortened my breaths as Anne's voice entered the room and my heart began to beat loudly in my ears.
"Were you talking to someone, Roland?" she sang. I could just picture her coming to him and laying her hand on his jaw just as she had done months ago when we first met.
"I was just telling…" He coughed. "Miguel about the monk blessing the ship," returned Roland, a bit too nervously for his own good.
"Ah, about that," started Anne. "I paid a visit to the hold and a crate seems to have been broken into."
Dammit.
"I'd like you to check it while I have a word with your new Spanish friend. I find him quite bonito."
Oh no, Roland! Don't leave!
"O-Of course, Anne," he complied. "I'll be right on it." There was the shuffle of a few steps and then the shutting of a door, and then the trouble brewed back up again.
"Get up," Anne ordered. I heard the familiar 'click' of a primed pistol and panic coursed through me. I heard Hernán get on his feet. "Open the chest." What followed was a very, very long pause, and then the lid of the chest was starting to lift, and I squealed before I could do anything else.
"I should have known!" she snarled, grabbing me and hauling me out of the chest. I toppled to the floor and tried to get away, but Anne's chuckling moved me to halt my escape. "Oh, don't even try, you sly, mangy bitch," she said, advancing with the pistol pointed at my head.
"Roland!" I screamed, but she beat my face with the nose of her gun and silenced my mouth.
"Let's see what Jack has to say when I have both his daughters ready to die for his stupidity." She grabbed my hair and yanked—hard—and proceeded to drag me out of the cabin. At least, she planned on dragging me out, but Hernán tackled her from behind, his hands going directly for her neck to choke her, and she struggled beneath him, cursing and spitting while I raced for the door.
"Hernán!" I called. "Get your arse out of here!" He stole the pistol out of Anne's hands before rushing out of the door with me and we shut the door as soon as we could, locking it from the outside as Anne pummeled the brittle door with a series of forceful kicks and swears.
Without thinking, we sprinted for the above deck, and as soon as we emerged from below and into the open air, we were met with the thickest fog I had ever witnessed in my life.
"I can't bloody see a thing," I remarked, surprised that I could barely see anything two feet in front of me. No one commented on my observation and I was driven to call out for my Spaniard. "Hernán? Are you there?" I felt around in the mist and touched someone. "Hernán?"
"Si?"
"Oh, good. I thought you left me."
"Keep quiet," he snapped, and I frowned at his severity. All I did was care about his well-being and he had the nerve to reply bitterly to my concerns. Though, I soon found out why he told me to remain silent. Anne had broken free from the cabin and was raging up to the upper deck, shouting for her men to search for us. Only, she was just as shocked as I was to see the fog and she cursed her misfortune most openly.
"Cap'n!" came a call. "A ship's come alongside! It's Sparrow!"
I tensed. Jack.
Hernán tapped my shoulder gently and whispered for me to follow him. I then asked him in return how I'd follow him if I couldn't see him in the fog, and we came up with the simple solution that he'd just hold my hand. Somehow, he managed to weave us through the fog and the searching hands of Anne's crew to the side of the ship where Jack's small vessel was closest to, and we caught a whiff of our captain's conversation with Anne.
"And you expect to claim back yer ship with yer little toy boat, Jack dear?" Anne sneered. I wrinkled my eyebrows. He wasn't using the French warship we captured.
"Aye. Plus, I hear that ye have some special cargo on board."
"Indeed, I do," she answered. "Your daughters in fact. Ready to be blown to bits for their conniving little deeds, that they are. Ye wouldn't want to see yer little 'daughter of the sea' shot in the head, would ya? Or funny little Astrid bleeding out her pretty ears and pretty blue eyes, eh?"
My eyes widened at the discovery. Anne had kidnapped Cordelia!
"I was wondering where those two went. I'm glad you found 'em for me, Annie. Now, I'd appreciate it very much if you return the miscreants to me."
"Oh, no. I simply can't do that, Jack. They're on my ship. They are my property now. And you're going to have to fork over more than just your hat in order to get them back."
"What if I give you my Irishman?"
"You plan on selling me a man for both your daughters?"
"I thought you could use another man in bed."
A shot was fired afterwards.
"Jack!" I shouted, on instinct. Hernán covered my mouth, knowing the danger I had just put ourselves in and Anne went after us like the queen of the underworld bent on unleashing hell.
"Cap'n!" came one of her crewmate's cries. Furious at yet another interruption, she hurried back to the larboard side of the ship, peering over to talk to Jack again, but she shrieked instead.
"Where the bloody hell is he!" she bellowed. "Destroy that damn boat and pray that he's in there or someone else will die in his stead!" Another shot was fired. "All hands on deck, ye lazy, two-faced mongrels!"
As Hernán and I crouched still by the larboard rail, hidden well by the fog, we felt the deck beneath us thunder as Anne's dreaded horde of men stampeded from below, their ascent deafening and formidable. I prayed in my head for Roland and Jack to come out to save the day soon because I knew I would not be able to escape Anne's grasp if she ever got a hold of me again.
There was another soft tap on my shoulder. I veered my head to the side and Hernán whispered for me to inch up towards the railing. I did so, softly, and peered out over the edge. All I could spot in the impenetrable fog was the stern of Jack's little boat, and by the looks of it, no one was onboard. The ship swayed back and forth lifelessly.
"Where is he?" I asked Hernán, but he didn't answer. He only nudged me further and ordered me to climb over the rail and down the side of the ship. I responded to his commands with an expression of pure disbelief.
"Are you mad?" I whispered. "I could fall into the sea."
"Better you in the water than on a ship where every man is looking for you. Go."
"The ship is bloody moving, Hernán. I won't be able to keep my balance and where the hell am I going to go?" He was losing his patience, I could tell. His jaw became stiff and he looked directly at me, a fierce glower in his eye.
"They'll weigh anchor. You must trust me, Astrid." I shook my head at him. I couldn't trust him, which was a rather stupid thing to do since he had saved me from Anne once already. Either the fear had gotten to me, or my prejudice was still ruling my mind. "Go, Astrid. Now." I bit my bottom lip brutally before swinging over the rail and descending awkwardly down the side of the ship. I only felt safer when I heard Anne shout for her crew to weigh anchor, and I began to take more consolation in the Spaniard's words.
"I want this damn fog cleared away," barked Anne. I decided to be more careful about my descent, as Anne's voice was getting nearer by the second. "Tell Turner to bring up the little Sparrow. If Jack decides to use fog on his side, I'll use blood on mine."
My sisterly worry betrayed me and I squealed out to Hernán something about Cord's safety, and he only delivered a command to silence me in response, which was exactly what Anne wanted to hear.
"They're near the larboard rail!" she cried, and the numerous feet of a pack of monstrous, bulky trolls came charging straight for our unlucky positions.
I knew I wouldn't reach Hernán in time, and so I hoped to pose some other distraction by causing some uproar on the deck below. There was a port hole nearby, and I scooted over to it and lifted its hatch before slipping through, relieved that Anne had summoned all her men to the deck above. Such an order left me safe and alone in the lower deck. Or so I thought.
Pausing for a moment and listening for any warnings signs above, I considered firing a gun to distract Anne's pursuit to kill the Spanish spy. However, I alone would be unable to accomplish such a thing. Firstly, there was no cartridge and I wouldn't be able to bloody budge the gun so that it wouldn't fire at anything important, like say Jack's tiny boat. With cannon-firing out of the question, I decided to find some pistols and fire a few shots, and so I then ventured off to locate the armory.
After my search failed on the deck I was on, I went below to the deck beneath and opened many doors and many hatches searching for a bloody pistol. I was only one deck away from going into the hold, and therefore I knew the armory had to be somewhere close. Only, as soon as I found it with an inward "A-ha!" a familiar metal form touched the back of my head and I froze.
"What the hell are ye lookin' for, bonnie?" was the voice that followed and I spun around, ready to tackle Tom for spooking me.
"A pistol. And whatcha scarin' me for?" I demanded, pushing the gun nozzle away from my face. And then after rethinking the action, I lunged forward and took the pistol from him.
"For not doin' yer job. You were supposed to bloody distract Anne and her crew! Now you made Hernán do it!"
"He told me to go, so I did. Now we need to make a distraction so that he comes out alive." I cocked the pistol and laid my finger on the trigger.
"No!" Tom snapped, slapping my fingers. "Our whole bloody crew is down in the hold with Jack and if you fire that now, Anne will have the upper hand. Now put it away."
"So what are we supposed to do then?" I asked, getting irritated. "Hernán is probably dead by now!"
"Your fault, bonnie," he said, retreating back to the hold.
"Fine. If you want your bloody distraction, O'Brian, I'll give them a distraction!" I tucked the pistol underneath my belt and then sprinted up the stairs to the decks above, fearlessly stupid as always, and snuck back into Roland's cabin, which wasn't too difficult to find considering the fact that its door was blasted away by Anne's flaming wrath. I snuck in and crawled out of the porthole, knowing that if I scaled up that side of the ship, I'd eventually hit the quarterdeck.
The fog was still as dense as ever when I reached my destination, and I was able to land on the deck clamorously without being shot on sight. I was fully aware, however, that Anne's pirates were within hearing distance, but because of the fog, they were unable to detect who made what noise and who was going where. And now, having dumped myself back into a pool full of hungry sharks and thus giving myself the sad position of "prey" I found it the smart thing to do if I stuck close to the railing of the ship. That way, I kept a good idea of where I was while also keeping myself from becoming entirely lost in the mist and completely exposed to Anne's entourage.
I managed to scoot over to the side of the ship where the mizzen shrouds were, and after carefully pulling myself up onto the ratlines, I crawled up the ropes until I reached the mizzen top, the platform on which I stood on as I prepared to reveal myself to Anne's blind crew. Gathering my breath, I cleared my throat and shouted:
"Hullo, you dirt-eating scumbags! Looking for someone?"
What followed was the loudest grumble of deep, manly curses and roars that ever descended on the earth. Good Lord, Astrid. Get your arse out of here!
Trembling with fear and excitement, I dashed off the mizzen top and darted straight for the shrouds. Only, as soon as I latched myself to the ropes I realized that Anne's pirates would probably be climbing them up in order to get to me. Wonderful. I winced for a second as I tried to think of another way to escape getting strangled to death. I knew that men usually went aloft using the top half of the shrouds. It was rare for any sailor to ascend the lines by climbing the ratlines with his back towards the deck. And assuming that such a path would be safer, I swung over to the bottom half of the lines and awkwardly inched my way down, hoping to God that I wouldn't lose my footing and fall to my demise.
I was right in my assumptions, and many feet and fingers did pump up the shrouds. I didn't budge and merely clung to the ropes for dear life. There was the occasional brute who stepped on my fingers and my teeth dug deeper into my nether lip as I tried to suppress a scowl. However, the mob of men speeding up the shrouds eventually subsided, and I took that time to cautiously make my way down back to the top deck.
I landed on the floor on my tip toes, not wanting to make any noise. Though, trying to rid myself from making a sound wouldn't protect me much longer. As I looked up, surveying my surroundings and trying to sense if an enemy was within arm's reach, a spoke of sunlight pierced through the fog and hit my boot. Dammit. The sun was going to shine its bright, yellow head and the fog would soon dissipate.
"Have you found the tramp yet?" yelled Anne from afar, which was a good sign. I deemed that she was near the bow of the ship, probably holding Hernán as her current captive.
Her men gave her the obvious reply: no. They hadn't found me yet, but I feared that it would only be a matter of time before they did manage to catch me, especially with daylight's grand entrance drawing nigh.
"So she doesn't want to show herself, eh?" returned Anne grumpily. "Fine. Well, I have a message for you, little Sparrow." She paused. "I'll blow yer little Spanish spy's brains out o' his pretty head if you don't come out within the next five seconds. One…"
I thought about her threat for less than a second before popping out my own question in response.
"Well, if ye can't see me in the fog, how am I supposed to show meself?"
She parried my cheekiness with a strict, "Four…" I was jumping from anxiety and panic, and blurted out:
"I'm by the mizzen shrouds!"
A strong gust blew over us, and a great deal of fog was swept away; at least, enough of it was eliminated for me to see the vague distant figures of both Anne and her men. And if I could see them, they could definitely see me.
"Gotcha now, sweetie," cooed Anne as she approached, and to my surprise, Hernán was not with her.
"Where's the Spaniard?" I questioned before her pirates got to me.
"He got away. Quick little devil. But you, dearie. Youwon't, and Jack's not here to save you. God knows where that loon's gone off to." I was transferred to her grasp, and although she was no bigger than me, she made sure I wouldn't try anything by sticking the nose of her pistol smack into my ribs.
Ow.
"I'm just about had it with your schemes. I tried to kill you once and what happens? You live. This time I'll make sure you don't make it out of this situation alive." The pistol clicked.
By now the fog had completely cleared away, and we were all standing in broad daylight, the sun beating down on our heads and the wind picking up again. And to think that I'd die on such a beautiful sailing day.Curses. I shut my eyes as I awaited the lethal blow.
"Um… Anne?" squeaked one of her crewmembers. She looked up, annoyed at having been disrupted from executing me, but when she looked up and when I pried open an eyelid, I saw a blade getting cozy with the neck of one of Mad Annie's pirates, and standing right before us was none other than Captain Jack Sparrow himself.
Anne shrilled like no tomorrow.
"And where the hell did you come from, Jack!" she screamed, pushing me aside as she raged at him.
"Yer cabin quarters, missy," he answered. "Ye got a lotta nice clothes in there too. Must come in handy when—"
Slap.
"Shut up!" she spat, stamping her foot and nearly chucking the whole pistol at his head. "Shut the hell up!" She had exhausted herself so much with her yells that she was out of breath, and she gazed around her in pure agony, noticing with furrowed brows how several her men were at Jack's mercy by sword point. But she didn't panic, she didn't surrender, she didn't weep. In fact, after observing the circumstances under a twitching eyelid, she seized my arm and jammed the pistol back into my ribs.
Oww.
"A matter of leverage, huh, Jack?" she grinned as I squirmed at the gun nozzle drilling into my side.
He didn't answer and merely held his hands up as if to calm her down.
"I'll shoot," she said at length, somewhat unsure herself. "I'll kill the most precious thing to you, Sparrow. And for what? For a ship? Some father you turned out to be," she scoffed.
"You're not the only one with leverage, Anne," intruded another, this time coming from behind. I couldn't see who it was on account of the fact that Anne had me positioned in an immovable stance, but I didn't have to look. I could distinguish such a brotherly voice from anywhere.
Huzzah for you, Roland!
His claim was followed by a threatening and subsequent 'click' of another primed pistol posed and ready to go off right behind Anne's oval head. She chuckled nervously.
"You don't have the constitution for that sort of thing, dear Roland," she laughed, turning her head sideways and giving him that bewitching Tortuga-wench stare. "Put the gun down."
"You're wrong if you don't think I'll shoot, Anne. I will. I've killed many men. I'm not afraid to kill my enemies. And therefore, I am not afraid to kill you." His voice came out somewhat hollow despite their stiffness. He was tense and scared, although he hid it rather well, and I wished on his better fortune that Anne would not manipulate his emotions and shame him out of his heroic entrance.
"Then shoot, darling," she encouraged with a lick of her lips. I gagged. She spun around, tagging me beside her and parted the front of her shirt to reveal her white breastbone. I gagged more. "Right here," she said. "Straight into my heart."
"No," said Roland at last. My eyes widened with fear. "A quick death is too good for you." He kept his gun aimed at her but much of his guard was let down. "Davies, take her away. Clap her in irons and gag her… and if you can, gag her with a small mouse in her mouth. Her breath reeks of rat sewage anyway." The same burly man I saw Roland speak with at St. Augustine broke from the clutches of Jack's crew and approached Anne, a grappling hook in his hand, and a belaying pin at his belt.
The she-captain was outraged.
"How dare you, you piece of—" She degraded her hostage crew with curse after curse and swear after swear. "I give you gold and women and drink and pleasure and you thank me by mutinying?" She swore again. "How dare you! How… dare… you!"
"You will restrain her, Davies," Roland reiterated, more fiercely this time. "She makes you work day after day. The labor is back-breaking and she uses your fellow shipmates as animals to abuse and torture in her frustration. You will apprehend her. She has mistreated you for years. You will go through with the mutiny."
"Mutiny my arse!" fought Anne. "You listen to that stupid boy, gentlemen?" She cackled hideously. "I promise you great treasure if you stay loyal to me. And oh the possibilities you will have when you obtain such riches, boys. You will be happy forever."
I was getting tired of the persuasion antics Roland and Anne were trying to express to the stupefied crew, and I had no choice but to speed the matter up, and what better way to do that than stomp on Anne's helpless foot with my heel. She howled, I ducked, she aimed, she pulled the trigger, but two shots were fired, and I was caught twixt the firings.
I couldn't breathe. Something wet slid down my face and I went numb, not daring to see what it was.
"Astrid!" Roland ran to me and grabbed my face, and as he drew his hands away I saw the blood.
"Is… Is that m-mine?" I quavered, shaking as my breath continued to come up short.
He didn't answer me. He just kept holding my face and shaking me.
"Don't fall asleep, Astrid," he said. "Don't. Stay awake, sister." Worry flooded his eyes. "Stay awake…"