Arthur had scolded Alfred about letting you out, but for the most part he got off the hook easy. Matthew had come down and left quickly, helping Arthur back to his own quarters so it was just you and Arthur alone in the captain's quarters.

It was silent for a time, Arthur busy opening a bottle of rum and pouring himself a drink, setting the bottle on the cluttered table, "Want a drink, poppet? Rum, Scotch, any of the sort?"

"A li'le early, don' you fink?"

"Never too early for rum. Here, sit," He kicked one of the chairs so it slid across the room in your direction. You gazed at it hesitantly for a moment, but sat down when he urged you, "Come now, it's not going to bite. Sit."

You felt it wasn't much of an offer, but rather a command, so you did so, "Sure you don't want a drink?"

"No, I don' wan' no drink." You stretched out in the chair in a rather unladylike fashion.

He took a sip from his glass and sat on the table across from you. The silence returned from before as he stared at you, glass to his lips. After he set the glass down, he continued to stare, rubbing his face in exasperation.

"Wha'?" You asked, annoyed at his staring.

"What to do with you, what to do..." He pondered in a singsong voice, taking off his hat and scratching his head, "Hm... question is what are you good for..."

"I'm righ' 'ere, I can 'ear you talkin'. Why don' you address me since I'M the one we're talkin' 'bou', wanker..."

"That seems to be your favorite word... Do you even know what it means?"

"Qui' changin' the subject. Wha' you wan' wif me? Why am I 'ere and why didn' you blow me up like you did the Spaniards?"

He took another sip of his rum and sighed, "I blew them up because they're the enemy."

"And I'm no' the enemy?"

"I never said that."

"Then wha' you keepin' me 'ere for? If I'm the enemy, shoot me. If I'm no', then why you keepin' me?"

He finished the glass and filled it up again before speaking, "...Men seemed so excited about it...couldn't say no..."

"Wha's tha'?"

"I said that I couldn't say no. The men seemed so excited about having captured you, the captain–– and to top it all off, a woman––that I couldn't say to leave you on board or to kill you."

"Bu' YOU don' wan' me 'ere."

"You're a woman, you don't belong here. You belong back home in Cheapside, or Whitechapel, or wherever you're from in East London with that Cockney accent of yours, with a husband and a family. Out here is dangerous for a woman."

"Well wha' else was I to do when my mover died and my faver walked ou' years before? I ain' go' no siblin's, so I figured why no' go ou' on an adventure. Caribbean was free, fough' I'go ou' to make a livin' 'ere. Go' myself caugh' up wif pirates, bough' somefin' illegal off 'em. Pledged to become a privateer for the Queen, and go' myself a crew. I can' go back. I go' novin' to go back to."

"You can start over."

"This WAS my startin' over. I'm done."

"Then you've got rotten luck, love. Now, what to do with you... The men will mutiny if I don't keep you... what good are you?"

"Wha' good am I?"

"Yes, what can you do?"

"Listen 'ere, I'm no' 'ere to do no cleanin' or anyfink like that. I'm a privateer, you go' that? I sail the seas and raid the enemies' ships. I don' do no cleanin' or cookin' if tha's wha' you mean."

"Well, we don't really have a cook... Alfred's been doing all the cooking since the men won't let me near the galley... I don't know why though, I mean, the stuff I make is delicious..." He began muttering under his breath but then came back to the subject, "Anyway, I'm not asking if you want to cook, I'm asking if you can cook, and if you can then, again, I'm not asking you, you WILL cook. Alfred's food is rather... well, you'll see what I mean..."

You glowered, "I said I'm no' doin' no cookin'."

He drew his flintlock, "This is why I don't like keeping prisoners... Always arguing and talking back... It's just easier to get rid of them..." He cocked it back and aimed it at your head, "You will do whatever I ask of you while you're on my ship, understood? For now you will be working in the galley, whether you can cook or not, then maybe my men can loose a few pounds."

"I said I'm––"

At that, he fired the pistol, but the small ball of lead flew past your face and dug into the wall across the room. You had felt yourself flinch and unconsciously duck a bit, but you righted yourself to show that you had no fear. Unfortunately, he had already seen it.

"I'm not afraid to fire this into your skull, poppet. Just remember that." He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you up out of the chair, dragging you back out of the room and up the stairs. The sun had reached it's peak in the sky, and it was rather hot as he brought you to the main deck. The men were mostly at work, but since everything was going well and they had put all the supplies in order, several of them were slacking off in the middle of the deck, playing cards.

"Oi, cap'n!" One of them exclaimed, noticing you two walking towards the door on the opposite side, the one you had accidentally run through before.

Arthur stopped and looked over at him lazily, "Yes?"

The man got up and muttered something to his companions before running over, "Cap'n, we were waitin' on you. I have some news to report."

"Yes, well, can it not wait until I get our prisoner in the galley?"

"Oh, is that where she's goin' cap'n? Well, uh, it's kind of important––"

"She's going into the galley?" One of the other men playing cards exclaimed, turning around to look at you, "What's the point in keeping her then if we're never going to get to see her?" He smiled at you and patted the wood beside himself, "Hey, poppet, why don't you join us over here? We'll have a great time."

"Cap'n, it's kind of important..."

"Alright, alright! You, get over there. Don't leave there. Don't wander around the ship." He pushed you toward the circle of men with the cards and then addressed the men, "You hear that? Don't let her leave your sight!"

One of the other men waved in compliance, "Don't worry, captain, there's no chance of that!"

You looked at Arthur, eyes narrowed, "You expect me to––" He pushed you again, "Get over there."

"I can walk on my ow––'ey!" He pushed you again, this time knocking you to the ground. You rolled over the wood onto your back, groaning, "Ow, dammit, that 'urt..."

He ignored you while you listened to the laughter of the crew at your expense. One of the men came up to you and looked at you from above, "Well, guess the captain doesn't really feel anything for you. Come with us, love." He pulled you to your feet and you stumbled behind him as he dragged you to the circle. The men were still chuckling as you sat down amidst them.

"You know how to play Twenty-one, love?" One of them asked, tossing a shilling into the middle of the circle.

You understood the rules well enough, you'd seen your own crew play it plenty of times. You nodded, and so one of the men gestured to you, "In that case, toss in a shilling."

"You idiot, you honestly think she has a shilling to spare? Here, here's a shilling you can borrow. Let's see how much money you can make me." The man that had dragged you over flashed the coin pointedly before tossing it in the pile. "Alright, deal 'em out."

He flashed a smile, "I'm Scott by the way."

You nodded and looked at the two cards on the floor in front of you. It was a pretty good hand: an eight and a six, which gave you good room to call for another card.

"Alright James, you're up." The dealer nodded to the man to his left and fingered the deck in his hands. He only had a seven facing up––doubtless he would be hard to beat.

"Yeah? Hit me one." The deep-brown haired man waved for a card, having plenty of room for more cards as he only had a three and a two.

Scott tapped you on the shoulder, "Well while they're having their fun, lemme introduce you to the group. That's Stephen," he pointed to the dealer, "and the gentleman to the right of him is James as you got earlier. Next to him is Henry, and after the gent next to you is Reid. Over here is Sean and Allan, and finally that's George."

They waved as they were each introduced, smiling or nodding as they did so. They were all different ages, Sean appearing the youngest around eighteen or so, and George being the oldest, as noted by his scraggly grey hair and beard. You let the corners of your mouth rise in a slight expression of greeting, but you couldn't have cared less at their names.

"So what's yours?" Sean asked, rubbing his blackened face with his hands, which were just as black and only smeared the grime more.

"...(Y/N)" You muttered reluctantly.

"Well, (Y/N), let's see how well you hold out. Allan is the best Twenty-one player here."

"You're horrible at this! Ah, why did I ever let you have that shilling!"

"I'm no' 'orrible, I jus'..." You protested, watching as Allan reaped in his winnings. Although small, it was still a good pot for Twenty-one, and it was the fourth time he'd won in a row.

"You have such lousy luck, love," Scott shook his head dejectedly, tossing his cards over to Stephen, "I'm done, boys. I'm fresh out. This girl here just lost my last one." He ran a hand through his unkempt black hair and stood up, "I'm headin' up to the crow's nest again. Be watchful of sandbars and all since we're heading into port."

"'Eadin' to port?" You asked, "Why? Where?"

"Love, you ever heard of Tortuga?"

Of course you had. It was one of the best pirate safe havens, especially for British and French pirates. It was a Spanish-free zone, a place where everyone had equal enemies. It was also one of the best places to buy black-market items, and one of the best places to get a crew. It was perfect for privateers and buccaneers alike.

"Yeah, o' course I 'ave. Been there plenty o' times meself."

"Well that's where we be headin'. Now I've got to go, love. Behave yourself down here with all these bilge rats. Boys, you're still in charge of her." He gave a lazy salute and ran up to the nearest shroud, climbing it quickly and disappearing against the setting sun.

"Tortuga, huh?" You muttered before looking at the other boys, "Why're we goin' there?"

"Trade. We got too many supplies on board since we took care o' those Spaniards. And we ought to get a good bit of 'em off before we run into trouble." Stephen explained, packing up the cards.

"We're not heading toward Tortuga right now."

You looked over your shoulder to find Arthur walking toward the group. He took off his hat and mussed his hair before putting it back on and sighing, "The ship's been getting slow and it's been a year already since we last careened it. We need to drag it up on shore to scrape everything off."

The men began groaning, "Can't we do that after Tortuga?"

"No. We're still a few good knots away and there's no guarantee we won't see any Spanish ships out here. Antonio has a nasty habit of showing up at the worst time, and always out of nowhere."

"So where are we headin' captain?" Stephen asked, standing up and retying his do-rag. The others stood up as well, George pulling a flask out of his coat and taking a swig.

"Beyond the horizon is Salt Cay Island. Since it's British territory, we'll stay the night there and careen the ship in the morning. From there we'll head off to Tortuga. We should reach there by the late afternoon, if my calculations are correct." Arthur grabbed you by the collar and hoisted you to your feet, "Thanks for looking after her, boys, but it's high time she got to the galley."

The men began to argue, "Captain that's––"

"You have work to do. Get moving." He turned around and dragged you with him, obviously not pleased with whatever he had been told, and his temper only worsened the more he walked. He slammed open the door to the crew's quarters and upon finding one of the members in his bunk, Arthur screamed, "Get up you lazy arse! I want all hands on deck! You can sleep when you're dead!"

The startled man hit his head on the bunk above him and hastily saluted as Arthur and you marched by, "Y-Yessir!"

The two of you descended the stairs into the gun deck, where three men were caring for the cannons, one of them being Matthew. Alfred sat on a crate behind him, holding his side. When they both saw Arthur, their faces lit up. But once they saw the anger surrounding the captain, their expressions drooped, and Matthew asked, "What's the matter, Arthur?"

"Aw, is he upset we're not at Tortuga? You know the last time we were there I thought he was getting along pretty well with a lady-friend. I bet he's anxious to get back with her, if you know what I mean, Mattie." Alfred joked, smiling despite the atmosphere.

Arthur avoided the bullet and grumbled, "We're not going to Tortuga."

"What! Why not?"

"Alfred, I need you to come with me."

"But––"

Arthur grabbed Alfred's arm and yanked him to his feet, much to Alfred's discomfort from his wound, "Do I need to drag you around everywhere like I do her? I said you're coming with me, and that's an order. Now get your arse in the galley before I serve it up for dinner."

"Y-Yeah, no need to get your knickers in a twist. I'm going."

Before you could say anything to Matthew, whose expression pleaded for an explanation of Arthur's anger, you were dragged off down the hall with Alfred in the same position as you.

There were stairs down at the end of the deck that descended into the lower hold, where the galley was located towards the stern of the ship. You were thrown rather unceremoniously into the ship's kitchen along with Alfred. A ring of keys was tossed in with you.

"You teach her what she needs to know in here. I want dinner, and it had better not suck. You understand?" And with that, the captain slammed the door shut and left. Alfred was sitting on the floor holding his side, grimacing, "That idiot. He's a real piece of work when he's upset about something."

"Yeah?" You helped him to his feet, "Considerin' I've been dragged all 'round this ship in 'is fury, I fink tha's an understatemen'."

He picked up the keys and unlocked your shackles, "I just hope it's somethin' he'll get over fast... There, now you can actually do some cooking. Here, I'll give you a real quick tour of the place, but then I gotta go back to Matthew." He began to light the lanterns before sitting on one of the counters, "Alright, so that over there is the oven and stovetop. All the pots and pans are underneath this counter and the utensils are over in that drawer. The platter-ware is in the cabinet beneath the drawer. All the stores are here in the hold. We have a good amount since we just got a bunch of supplies, so you should be fine. The rum and alcohol is all in this hold too. You know how to cook?"

You scratched the back of your head, "Uh, well, one o' the men on me ship cooked the meals, so to be hones', I've never made a meal in me life. I've been preyin' on taverns and pubs me entire life t'get meals af'er my paren's died."

"Oh... good luck. Well, I'll see around. Oh, and if you don't have enough light, the porthole's behind that crate. Not that it's going to do much for you in about an hour." He began to walk out the door, "Oh, and by the way, don't stress too much about Arthur's dinner. His sense of taste is awful, so he'll practically eat anything you give him, as long as you don't tell him what's in it. Bye." He shut the door behind him, leaving you in the small and dark galley.

"...I've never cooked a' all. Damn. Wha' am I suppose'ta make?"

The food wasn't all that bad as you had discovered a cookbook in one of the cabinets, but then again it was never hard to please a crew with food, so long as it was edible. The crew had ranked it better than Arthur's and healthier than Alfred's, whatever that meant. But due to your success, you were officially posted to the galley. You'd rather swab the entire deck than continue to make meals for thirty or so men. After you had cleaned up the kitchen and all the dishes (which took an unbearably long time), the sun had already set and the ship was only a few meters away from the shore of Salt Cay.

Thinking maybe that since you're job was done you could have some free time, you left the kitchen and decided to go back up on deck. The men were still at hard work, checking for sandbars and reefs and tying the ropes to the hull of the ship in preparation for the careening. The wind was working with them, so the ship sailed in to the coast rather easily; however, it did reach a stopping point that was still too deep for the men to properly reach all areas of the hull.

"You. Yeah, you. Get down there, we need all the man power we can get," One of the men said to you, someone who you hadn't met yet. He pointed to the ladder over the side that the men were climbing down with and then approached it himself.

"Bu' I'm––" You began to protest, but then you were pushed toward the ladder by someone else and onto it, nearly losing your grip and falling overboard. You climbed down after regaining your footing, your heart racing at the prospect of almost dying. You could already see the shape the ship was in as you descended, the rope rocking back and forth from the others down below. It needed repair; sure, the deck and hold had looked quite good, but it was clear that the ship had been in some rough battles. Deep grooves carved into the oak hull ran down the sides parallel, rough patch-jobs clearly showed where there had been holes from cannonballs. Amidst the scarring, mussels and other sea creatures such as barnacles had burrowed their way into the wood, using the ship as a home; and they were EVERYWHERE.

By the time you had reached the bottom, the men had already assembled towards the hull and grabbed hold of the ropes. As the wind was still working with the ship and there were plenty of able men, with a little bit of cursing thrown about, the ship was finally pulled up to shore far enough in so that the hull could be careened. You were handed a knife and was directed toward the hull, "Start scraping."

The mussels and barnacles were rather easy, but it was the worms and other weird creatures that were a pain. They clamped on tight to the wood or would shrink back. The buildup of all the living beings was quite disgusting and a messy job. It would take more than a few hours to get it all off on both sides, and the light was fading fast. The sun had almost sunk past the horizon.

"Ah, so you're actually being a good poppet now?"

You rolled your eyes as you worked on a thick caking of barnacles.

"Don't damage her. She's served me well."

"'Ope you're takin' good care o' 'er like she is takin' care o' you," You grunted, finally freeing the barnacles and revealing the wood. You shivered when you felt the ocean water soak your pants as the tide began to come in.

"Migh' I make a suggestion?" You stopped scraping the sides and looked at Arthur, but he held up his finger, "Hold that thought just one second, love," then he shouted to the men, "Sunlight's fading fast, boys, so let's call it a night!"

You shut your mouth. He directed his attention back to you and asked, "You were saying?"

"Took the words ou' o' me mouf." You muttered, tucking the knife into your belt.

"No, no, no, love." He grabbed your shoulder and held out his hand.

You groaned and handed him the dagger, and he released your shoulder, "Do me a favor, love. Go tell the crew still up on board to grab as many rum kegs as they can. You too, grab one and bring them back down here to the beach."

You nodded halfheartedly, and he asked, "What, did you want something else? Brandy perhaps? I think I still have a good bottle of French brandy in my quarters if that's what you want."

You ignored him and struggled to the ladder, the waves catching your legs as the tide was coming in. Using the rope ladder as an anchor, you caught yourself and climbed up. There were no men on deck, so you assumed the only ones there were in the hold, gun deck, and crew's quarters. You passed through the crew's quarters and descended into the gun deck and immediately found Matthew again, "Oh, you seem t'be 'ere quite of'en, don' you?" You remarked, seeing him cleaning one of the demi-culverins.

"Of course. I'm one of the gunners," He said, "Arthur would rather me be down here than up there in case of an attack."

"So tha' wanker actually cares, does 'e?"

"Well... I mean, he really does... He just doesn't like to show it, that's all."

"Tha's a lovely sentiment. Personally I find 'im a righ' foul git wivout a soul, bu' you know, tha's jus' me opinion," You found yourself saying that, but you weren't sure if you actually believed it. Your distaste for the man and the hatred of being "owned" said so, but your head told you otherwise. The whole thing seemed like a bit of an act at times, and you would find yourself thinking that maybe he wasn't so bad, but then he'd turn around and spit in your face and remind you who owned who. Your opinion was a constant roller coaster.

"Don't talk about him that––"

"Righ', I came down 'ere t'tell you tha' 'e wan's you t'bring as many rum kegs as you can carry. If you see anyone else, tell 'em too."

"...Alfred's in the crew's quarters. I'll tell the others when I go into the hold." He turned around and headed for the stairs, descending below.

"...Bu' I didn' see 'im or anyone in the crew's quarters... Maybe 'e already go' off the ship..." You looked around the gun deck, and there was only two other people. You gave them the command and went down into the hold yourself to help carry some. The men were rolling the kegs toward nets that were lowered down. You helped out, and eventually fifteen standard-sized kegs were hoisted onto the main deck, while you and a few others carried out seven small kegs.

By the time you reached the deck, the sun was gone, the moon shining bright; however, it was countered by the roaring glow of a bonfire towards the upper part of the shore. The men were already playing instruments and enjoying themselves, and now all that was left was for the rum to arrive. You handed off your kegs to one of the men and watched as they climbed down. There was no way you were going down there, not with thirty or so pirates who would be dead drunk within an hour and you being the only girl. You knew how that would go, and you would like to avoid that situation at all costs.

You looked around deck for a moment and sat down, resting your back against the cap rail. You looked up at the sky, at all the stars and constellations, and the edge of the cockboat.

The cockboat.

You stared at it for a second before launching yourself to your feet and immediately climbing in it. The oars were there too, and you grabbed the rope to start hoisting it down slowly. No one would notice, and although you really didn't have a plan or any supplies, the Caicos islands weren't far at all. You could surely make it there in one night.

There came to be a major flaw in your plan, however: it was the sound of a flintlock being cocked back.

"Step out of the boat, poppet. If you don't, I will shoot. We're supposed to have fun tonight, and I wasn't planning on cleaning up your brains. Now, be a good girl and get back on the ship." He sounded calm, but there was a bite behind his last words.

You narrowed your eyes as you met his green ones and slowly retied the rope to the ship. You climbed back onto the ship, eyes watching the pistol. Before you knew it, you were in chains again with the pistol put away and his arm around your waist, pushing you toward the rope ladder.

"Alright, let's go have some fun, love."

Just a quick note, Tortuga is a REAL place for all those who recognize it from Pirates of the Caribbean. It's called Île de la Tortue in Haiti, and it's a small island just off the coast.