Thwoooomp CRASH! Wood breaks like bone. Screams tear through the air, overridden by orders to fire this, haul that. How long has it been since we were thrown into this bomb shelter? Could be minutes, could be hours. It's all become one long stretch of cramped darkness, the raging battle outside muffled by the walls.
God, but I hate it here. Evangeline said it was the First Mate's cabin, but surely not even a pirate would live in conditions like this. All I can think of is those horrible months on board the slave ships. The constant blackness, the suffocating tightness in the way we were all packed together. Being kept up all night by the aches of hunger and the pain of stiff joints, the plaintive cries of the suffering. Sitting here, on the floor, with my knees at my ears and junk pressing up on all sides, all I have to do is close my eyes and I'm back on the Third Star, vividly remembering each horrendous detail. Every time I came to face down in the ankle-deep pool of human waste. Every crack of the Quartermaster's whip on my back for something I didn't even remember doing
Every time the entire ship was filled with the fervent whispers of my fellow passengers praying for my death.
How many times did I wish I was dead? Too many to count, more than I'd care to remember. Not that it matters, anymore. I escaped eventually, and now here I am. Living it up in the lap of luxury with Lady Evangeline Avi.
If our current living standards bother her, she isn't showing it. 'And all the work I went through to clean it' was her only comment when she saw the mess. No, I think at the moment her main frustrations are at her father. Lots of whispering, and cursing. Makes you wonder how she ever even got into the elite of Port Royal, with a vocabulary like that. All miserable maggot this and festering pissface that. Somehow I don't get the vibe that having the British Navy on our tail was part of the plan.
Which begs the question: what was the plan? Evangeline said she was a spy for her pirate daddy before. So obviously she's dug up something worth investigating. Question is, does that something involve me? I don't get the feeling she brings homeless slave boys on her adventures for fun. Then again, at this stage, nothing would surprise me.
I just have to be on my guard. Any whiff of human sacrifice and I'm out of here, British Navy or no.
"How much longer do you think they'll fight for?" Tentatively. She was nice before, but know that we're away from the public eye she may well treat me like any other slave boy.
Not that anyone would care if she did slap me in public.
"Hm? Oh, it all depends." Her head jerks up, like I've woken her from a nap. Mind, she is sitting on the bed. The only clear space in the entire room. I made her take it, because I'm a gentleman. And it's not like I deserve much better than my place on the floor. "We may lose them, or blow a hole in their hull." Pause. "Or they might blow a hole in ours."
Fabulous. Thank you for that piece of positive insight to the situation.
"Why aren't we fighting with them?" Because right now, I'd rather be anywhere but here. Too many bad memories.
"We have to make the others think we're hostages," she sighs. "It's less suspicious that way. Besides," she says, and what's this? Do I detect a hint of bitterness in her tone? "There's money in hostages."
"But then people will come looking for us."
She grins wolfishly. "I don't think anyone will come looking for us where we're going."
Gulp. Sounds ominous. "And where's that, exactly?"
Lucky I don't sound as terrified as I feel.
Big brown eyes blink once; then she sighs, and smooths her dress out across her lap. "When Jack planted me in Port Royal, he told me to tell him if I found anything he would find 'interesting'." She never refers to either of her parents as 'mother' or 'father'. Hm. "As a pirate, that typically included any big loads of gold going out virtually unguarded, stuff like that. I told him about one or two, but mostly I was looking for more supernatural stuff to get him involved in. To spite him, mostly."
Remembering the mutters about Evangeline being a Satan worshipper and a ghost hunter. Looks like they were right.
"Well, a few months ago I heard about the Gates of Hell." Her eyes flash ominously and her face is grim. "Whoever opens them has complete control of whatever monsters lie within there."
"We're not- we're not going to open them?" Flutter of panic. Oh, God, if she knew about my monsters-
"What? Oh, God, no." She looks horrified by the prospect. Thank God. "No, it took me a while to talk Jack out of it, but we got there eventually."
God. Her dad must be as crazy as she is, if he wants to open the Gates of Hell.
"Right now, we're trying to make sure they stay shut."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, would appear to be all Evangeline Avi has to say on the subject. I'm not sure I want to ask for more. Maybe if I ignore the problem it'll just go away.
Yeah, right. When has that ever worked for me?
The door cracks in, and- oh God! The heavens have opened up and angelic light is pouring over me- no, no. It's just the sunlight outside. Normal, boring sunlight.
Thank God. I hate to think of what any angel would do to me if they ever found me.
Who's this? Ah. The walking talking carrot. Rocky's a stupid name for a man with a physique like that. Sticky would be better.
"Figh'in's over," he announces. Honestly. Even I can speak better than him. "You can come ou' now, 'Vangeline. You too, Kelp."
Rocky the Carrot doesn't stick around for us to get up. I glance at Evangeline, who's carefully picking herself free of her big poufy dress.
"You've got to stop people calling me that." Because frankly, I'm not standing for any of that nonsense.
She tries to hide her smile. "I will, I promise. But they are pirates. I wouldn't hold too much hope."
Yes. Well. Give me a few days and this slave boy will come up with a scathing nickname for everyone on this damned vessel, mark my words.
"You can go out if you like, Kalepi. I just need to get changed." Still smiling away over there. I'm glad you find it funny, 'Vangeline.
Swallow. Hard. "Will there be much blood?"
Evangeline looks troubled. "Hard to say. The helm should be alright, if things are too heavy on deck."
Right. Well. The helm it is, then. Marching out the door- squinting in the sunlight- quick glance at the deck. Splinters the size of me everywhere, and holes blown in the railing (or whatever it's called), and blood and water splashed about. Bodies and weapons lie willy-nilly about the place. Maybe not as bad as I thought. But I'm not going down there. I have only the clothes on my back and I'd like to keep them clean, thank you very much.
Whoops! Be careful, Kalepi. All these splinters can't be good for bare little feet like yours. Picking my way up the stairs- watch out, that one there's broken- and what's this? Euch! Someone's wooden eye rolling back and forth across the wood, staring up at me blankly. People should seriously have eyepatches for that sort of thing. I could've rolled an ankle on that.
Evangeline was right. The helm's not too bad. The inevitable cracked wood, and a few splinters, but nothing like the damage below. View's nice, too. Port Royal's nothing more than a blue-ish lump in the distance (I had no idea we were travelling that fast) and the glittering blue sea stretches out in all directions.
And just behind us, the pleasantly smoking ruin of a British ship shrinks away into the horizon.
Back to the Pearl. There's a little party gathered on deck now: a man with a grey ponytail pulled behind his head glares at a parrot spouting obscenities, and a fat man with a ring of stringy hair bickers with a skinny rod of a man with one eye. (Looks like I found the owner of the wooden eye.) And in the middle of them all, standing at the helm and gazing out across the ship looking like he just bit down on a nut and chipped a tooth, is the oddest man I've ever seen.
Supple leather boots, dirty brown trousers. The light baggy white shirt that seems to be uniform among pirates, and a big flappy coat thrown over the top. A worn tricornered hat jammed on top of his hair, which seems to be a untameable mat where some of it is brushed and some of it hasn't been brushed in years. There's a glint of silver everywhere you look: coins swinging from his coat, his hair, his hat. He's even got beads dangling from his goatee! His hands are covered in tattoos and scars and bandages, though I can't see any wounds. Tanned skin and- ho hum. Outlined with smudged kohl, a pair of familiar dark brown eyes.
Evangeline's eyes.
Ladies and gentlemen, the great Captain Jack Sparrow. The first pirate I've ever met in my life.
I thought he'd be taller. Maybe more scary-looking.
"And pray tell us what the hell that was about."
Oh, and I'm just in time for the first father-daughter confrontation for this voyage. Lucky me.
Evangeline certainly has gotten changed since I left her in the cabin. A red bandanna has replaced her wide-brimmed hat, and there's a light white shirt that begins at her shoulders and ends at her elbows in place of the purple corset. Dark brown trousers made of a material I can't describe tucked into her knee-high boots. Her hair doesn't look as glossy as it did before, and she looks ten times more dangerous with her hands on her hips and the meanest death glare I ever saw since the Quartermaster plastered on her features.
Captain Jack swings around at the sound of her voice and faces her. His nose twitches, but that's pretty much it. "Evangeline."
She keeps right on glaring. How is he not buckling at the knees? "Where's my corset?"
What? You mean you wore a corset voluntarily? I've heard stories about how horrible they are. She has to be crazy.
"Sold it." A glint of silver as he flashes his teeth at Evangeline. If you yanked every bit of metal from this man and sold it, you'd have a fortune.
Sniff. "I hope you got a good price for it."
Shrug, and a look of genuine uncertainty. "She seemed to like it."
Evangeline opens her mouth to make another scathing comment- but apparently thinks better of it. "So? What was that about?"
Jack sniffs imperiously. "I don't know what you're talking about." The man talks quicker than a beggar scrambling for a penny. It's hard to keep up.
"That whole bloody scene back at Port Royal!" Boom. Evangeline explodes. "What did I say, I said don't attack. What do you do? You attack, and very nearly get all of us killed!"
"N-o-o, you said for us to take you hostage," Jack corrects her, waving a filthy finger in her face. Evangeline wrinkles her nose like a lady. "Hostage-taking is an art. It has to look like we took you because you were there, not because you're you. You've got a fishy enough reputation as it is, it'd be odd if we just took you without having any confusion to take you from in the first place. Savvy?"
Fishy. Ha ha. Pardon me as I stitch up my sides.
Evangeline barks a harsh laugh. "Oh, so you're telling me you did this for menow? You never do anything for me. Look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you didn't pillage anything from the city."
Pause. Jack opens his mouth- his finger is still wiggling about up there- gawps- will he do it? Will he lie to his own daughter? No. He shuts his mouth promptly and glares. Evangeline smirks and rolls her eyes. "Pirate."
"Oh, like you can talk." He fixes her with a new look. "Did you get it?"
Evangeline's eyes flash with alarm, and something like a warning. She throws a meaningful glance at me. "Yes."
Oh, I knew it. I knew it! Human sacrifice for these damned Gates of Hell. Or food for the kitchens. Either way, I'm done for. God, what am I going to do? I'm going to die, that's what! How am I going to get away from these maniacs? I could jump over the side, but I can't swim, and even if I could where would I go? Float back to the wreckage of the ship behind us and hope there are survivors? Tell them that I'm an escaped slave boy? I can't go back to the plantation. I can't.
Drums pound in my ears, drowning out whatever Evangeline's got to say. The world dissolves in a white haze and smoke fills my nostrils- but the smoke from the wreckage surely can't reach us from here-
Oh no.
Deep breaths Kalepi, deep breaths- no- I can't breathe- help!
Flames everywhere, and I'm gone.