Chapter 12

Greedy hands grabbed at my skin, grabbed at my clothes.

Hungry grins loomed over me.

Gleaming eyes reflected the flickering of the lanterns in the hold.

A few hands bearing particularly sharp nails, barnacles, and sharp corals ripped at me, carelessly shredding into my flesh. Blood dripped down my legs, my stomach, even my arms as I struggled to fight them off.

In the chaos, I gripped the hilt of a sword, but there were too many of them. The crew swarmed, pouncing like wild dogs on their prey.

Memories flooded my mind. Memories of rum-soaked Navy men and their lust.

I closed my eyes, eager to fight everything off, push everything away. Every fiber of my being fought to keep my legs curled in, to keep striking out with my arms, and to restrain the tears that wet my eyes.

This type of fear was becoming my norm.

Light flooded the room, but I hardly noticed. One by one, the men were heaved away, and a rough fabric thrown over me – a blanket perhaps.

Unfamiliar arms pulled me close, lifting my frame easily from the splintered floor.

Instinct told me to shy away from the cold form of this stranger, but I stayed. I curled tighter, kept my eyes pressed closed. I wasn't naïve enough to think I could wish it all away anymore, but not seeing would make for less vivid nightmares.

We crashed through a few doors before I found myself in a dark cabin again. It smelled of the sea, in a much different way than the rest of the ship. It smelled familiar.

A shiver flitted up my spine and I held myself close.

Shortly, I felt a softer cushion below me as the person deposited me from their arms. It was a bed, I realized quickly. Pulling the blanket tighter, I took my time regaining my composure and fighting off horrid memories.

"Rachelle?" a voice inquired from the other side of the room.

Opening one eye, I peered into the darkness, murmuring, "Bootstrap?"

The figure sighed, and stepped closer. "No, I… It's your father."

Both eyes regarded him, adjusting to the dim lighting. Sure enough, Davy Jones stood before me, looking uncharacteristically tentative.

"So it's true." At his simple nod, I added a skeptical "You're certain?"

He paused, regarding me carefully. "When you first arrived, the thought crossed my mind. But… your mother did not tell me she was with child when I went out to sea. She must've known, and yet she did not say a word. I ignored the feeling until you asked me. You asked with such certainty that I had to consider it."

Pulling the blanket tighter, I queried, "And you just knew?"

"Something told me we were right. And you? How did you know?"

I shrugged, taking my time to find the proper wording. I couldn't very well tell him that it was all gut instinct, because that would be a lie.

"Puzzle work, mostly." I answered at last. "When the Kraken attacked my vessel, the one that brought me here, it released me. When we locked gazes, a connection of kinship was recognized, of sorts. Then," I continued, "when I arrived, there was something about your reactions and the unspoken connection that we seemed to share."

Sighing, I confessed, "Honestly, there was a fair amount of gut instinct and guessing, but the letters in that crate on the Isla de Cruces spoke volumes."

Our staring contest continued a while longer before Davy Jones turned to the wardrobe on the far wall. "You'll need new clothes," he said, rummaging through the disarray. "I'm glad you don't mind men's garments. Most women we run across opt to spend eternity beyond."

I just nodded, pulling on the breeches and shirt he handed me. The blood would be dealt with later. Resting back on the bed once I was properly dressed, I stared at my now-confirmed father. "So, now what?"

The question's abruptness surprised even me, and I knew my fears of the fearsome captain had dissipated once and for all.

My father looked taken aback and puzzlement crossed his face. "What?" he asked sharply. "You'll return to your mother, I suppose. Unless you wish to stay here with the men I nearly permitted to… No, I think it best you go."

I didn't even endeavor to mask the pain on my face. "You wish me to leave? So soon after discovering the truth?"

"I only think it best." He snapped. "You may be a capable duelist, even a hearty gambler, but my ship is no place for my only daughter. The dead come here to serve and suffer for eternity. I do not wish that upon you."

Allowing my incensed anger to bring me to my feet, I met his gaze evenly. "So you think it best to leave me alone in the world, again. You think that because I have handled myself for so long that I can handle the harsh, cruel world much better than I can survive on your ship. You think that I value my freedom more than getting to know my father." I took a shuddering breath to ease the storm in my heart. "If that is what you wish, so be it. Since you very clearly know what I do not, I would appreciate at least a heading so I can find out who my mother is."

Surprise replaced the harshness that had returned to his visage and he looked at me with wide eyes. "I thought she raised you in Tortuga."

"No," I shook my head softly. "I was raised in Tortuga, yes, but I was abandoned on the day of my birth with naught but my name. A man named Hector Barbossa took me under his wing and taught me everything I know. Everything about the sea, about her moods. He taught me to survive in a world that wants to tear you apart."

Fury is a word that hardly captures the emotion that consumed my father's entire being. With furrowed brow, steeled eyes, and clenched fist, he whirled away from me, looking as dangerous as ever. I followed him curiously as he stormed out to the deck and glared contemptuously at the sea. The waters had calmed after the Kraken disappeared and I paused for a moment to soak in the setting sun.

A growl from the captain refocused in my attention to his rage. "I want that wretched temptress executed!" he barked, still shooting daggers at the water with his murderous gaze.

"Captain?" Macchus questioned, approaching carefully.

I regarded the first mate for a moment before my father grasped my wrist gently with his tentacled hand – a first. "Take a boat." he nodded. "Return to your friends. I will find you again once I deal with your mother."

The way he said that final word made it sound like a curse, so I placed a hand on his arm and met his gaze. "Thank you," I conceded. "For saving me, for desiring to know me, and for caring about me. Each day I feel that number dwindles."

He softened for a moment. "Macchus, have the men ready a longboat. My daughter will be over shortly."

The first mate looked startled, but gazed upon me with a new respect as he left to fulfill his captain's orders.

"Rachelle." He uttered my name softly and tenderly. "I am sorry that I have not been a father for you. I am sorry for the life you had to live because of your mother and me. What I seek to do now is right that wrong by bringing justice to your mother as I should have long ago. Had I done a better job when she betrayed me the first time, you would have lived a far happier life. I will make things right for you."

I breathed a smile, feeling much calmer than I had when our conversation had first began in that dark cabin. Feeling much happier.

"I intend to keep you to that, Father." I smirked.

I didn't dare hug him, so I gently squeezed his hand and whispered, "Farewell," before striding to the longboat and making my escape.

As the Dutchman sailed away and I worked my way closer to the island where my friends rested, I kept my eye on where I knew my father was standing at the helm. Contentment filled my heart at the thought that I finally had an answer.

I finally had one more piece of the puzzle that was my life.

I could finally let myself be a little happy.