Okay People Chapter 3 (FINALLY)!
POTC does not belong to me! But some of these characters do.
Apologies for the delay; I had a serious case of writers block…
Happy Reading!
Orange light streamed through the murky glass panels of the cabin window casting a hazy, warm glow that reflected somewhat the sweltering temperature of the room. The vessel rocked with the movement of the ocean causing Lúcia's hammock to swing with increasing vigour and the muffled sounds of labour on deck could be heard through the wooden walls. Perhaps it was the heat or the unfamiliar movement of the hammock but Lúcia woke up entirely disoriented.
Dios but my neck is stiff! What on earth is the time? Oh Tio is going to KILL me if I am late again…
At the thought of the tavern the memories of the previous evening began to flood back to her. As realization hit her she gasped and bolted upright; a mistake as it turned out as the movement unfortunately coincided with the tilt of the ship causing the hammock, with great gusto, to swing uncontrollably and unceremoniously dump Lúcia in a heap on the cabin floor.
Swearing under her breath in Portuguese, Lúcia picked herself up and began to brush down her clothing. Apparently she had been too exhausted or overwhelmed the night before but her dress was completely ruined she realised with irritation.
Although I shouldn't be surprised really I suppose. I was caught in a crossfire, ran away from armed officers, crept around the underbelly of Lisbon, scaled a cliff tunnel, climbed a Jacob's Ladder and slept in a hammock on a pirate ship…
Sighing she ran her hands over her head and ascertained that her hair was equally distressed. She undid the tie at the bottom of her braid and began to comb out her unruly, tumbling waves with her fingers whilst properly examining the cabin. Someone must have come in whilst she was sleeping because a heavy jug of water and a canvas bag rested upon one of the wooden crates. Overcome with sudden thirst she immediately chugged down a good part of the, admittedly warmish, water then used the rest to wash her face. She opened the bag to find a hunk of hard bread which she gratefully began to tear and eat enthusiastically. Judging by the light it must be getting on for sundown which meant she must have slept the entire day! She put down the canvas bag, stood up and began to gently twist and stretch in an attempt to counter some of the stiffness in her joints.
How far have we come I wonder? Judging by the movement of the ship we must be a decent way out to sea by now…
As if in response the Misty Lady gave a particularly vigorous tilt. As she tried to regain her balance Lúcia felt the contents of her stomach churn horribly. She threw her hand over her mouth and unthinkingly thrust open the cabin door, ran across the deck and threw up impressively over the side of the ship. As she clutched the wooden railing and tried to regain her composure she heard a familiar voice behind her.
"Let it out lass. That won't be the last time you experience the wonders of sea sickness before you acquire your sea legs. Trust me you'll be feelin' better for it…"
Lúcia let the cool, sea breeze wash over her for a moment and felt the blood come back to her cheeks as her nausea and dizziness subsided. Taking a deep breath she turned slowly and steadily smiled at First Mate McGregor.
"Thank you Si… Mr McGregor, but I'm quite okay now."
"Just McGregor lass there's no need for the 'Mister' but it's an improvement to be sure…"
He appraised her for a moment and nodded with grudging approval.
"It seems like you've steadied yourself. A life at sea is no' for the faint hearted and ye appear to have managed your first toss better than most; many a man on this vessel was sick as a dog for the most of his first voyage!"
McGregor turned sharply and glared at a group of pirates who had been unabashedly eavesdropping nearby all of whom instantly wiped their smirks from their faces and continued scrubbing the deck and mast.
"McGregor?"
"Hmm?"
"Where are we?"
"Sailing towards the Gulf of Gibraltar girl"
"And from there where do we make for?"
McGregor smiled malevolently.
"Tell me, what do you know of Singapore?"
It may have intimidated Lúcia to know that her animated exchange with McGregor was being observed with reluctant interest by Captain Teague. Having worked on his charts and accounts for the majority of the day he had gruffly conceded that he needed to escape his sweltering cabin and stretch his sea legs. Though he was loath to admit it he had been a little on edge all day and, determined to blame his inexplicable frustration on the increasing dryness and scorching temperature of the approaching North African air, had grudgingly emerged onto the quarter deck. The effects of the sea breeze had been immediate and he had been feeling distinctly more at ease when a figure in a red dress had hurtled across the deck and emptied the contents of her stomach down the side of his vessel.
Ignoring the unwelcome feelings of concern that arose in him he was about to remove himself from the scene in defiance of his completely uncharacteristic actions from the previous night when he was, infuriatingly, rendered unable to as she turned in response to McGregor's intervention.
He had already established that Lúcia Maria Catarina de Marques was attractive but seeing her for the first time in relative light made him understand somewhat why his men insisted that the lack of women at sea caused insanity and hallucinations that impeded their work.
She had removed the tie from her hair which now tumbled wildly past her shoulders and fluttered gently in the breeze. The evening glow of the sunset brought out the honey tones in her olive skin and the chestnut streaks in her curls. Additionally her dress had clearly taken a severe beating and was extremely tattered around the bottom and ripped across one shoulder, exposing a generous amount of tanned collarbone and slim ankle which contrasted alluringly against the dark red print of the fabric. Though Edward Teague would never admit it he always had had a penchant for exotic and unique items and Lúcia Maria Catarina de Marques definitely fell under this description. He forced his gaze away and glanced around at his crew; many of them were looking at her with somewhat hungry expressions. Unable to stand it any longer he marched over to the stairs that led down to the lower deck where the first mate and passenger were conversing.
"McGregor!"
McGregor and Lúcia jumped and McGregor spun round immediately.
"Aye Cap'n?"
"My cabin now!"
With that Teague marched back into his gallery and took a deep breath. McGregor joined him seconds later.
"Cap'n?"
"I want you to summon the crew and tell them that we head directly for the Moroccan coast to replenish our supplies, we will aim for one of the French trading ports to see what we might… acquire there."
"Aye Ca.."
"AND that any scurvy cur that does not pull his due weight will be left in the northern desert to find his way in life off of this vessel."
"You are… displeased with the way in which the crew are going about their duties?"
"I might be…"
McGregor fought a smile.
"Duly noted. I will remind them of your expectations as it were. I must say that Miss de Marques showed interest in our route…"
Teague grunted.
"Good. Sooner she's on her way the better."
"You intend to leave her in a Moroccan port?"
"What she intends to do with herself is of no concern to me so long as she leaves the Misty Lady at the earliest opportunity. Speaking of which I believe she may need something more appropriate to wear if she is to make herself useful savvy?"
McGregor nodded slowly.
"Aye, I expect there are some fabrics in the hull from that Dutch trading vessel we liberated three moons ago."
Teague nodded.
"Find her something to do that's out of my way."
"Aye Captain. Anything else?"
"No. Leave me."
McGregor nodded and made his way down to the storage hold, ducking his head to hide his grin. This girl had gotten Teague rightly riled up like even he had never seen before. Undoubtedly she was attractive but the captain had had many an attractive wench before and thought nothing of them after he'd left the tavern. He'd seen the crew looking at her like starving dogs and grimly noted that he'd have to keep a weather eye out for her, for some reason the girl impressed him enough for him to feel marginally responsible for her. He used an iron bar to pry open a crate and pulled out some lightweight, deep burgundy cloth which he draped over his arm. Scanning the hold he found the chest he was looking for and rummaged until he found the pair of work breeches that had belonged to a cabin boy who had disgraced the Misty Lady by bringing a wench on board and attempted to impress by sneaking into the Captain's Cabin. He had been thrown into a pig sty in the port and left to repent in the stinking mud; Teague had been feeling generous that day. They would be too big for the girl but they would have to do. Finally McGregor grabbed the crude sewing kit the crew used to repair their limited clothing on long voyages and made his way to the deck where Lúcia was sat with her knees drawn up to her chest as she stared out to sea. He dropped the offerings down in front of her and coughed gruffly.
"Here you are girl…"
Lúcia fingered the cloth in astonishment.
"For me?"
"Aye, this is a working ship and that dress is nigh on useless in that state…"
Lúcia blushed.
"Well what are you waiting for? I'm to put you to good use so you'd best get started. Can't have you climbing the rigging in those skirts now unless you don't mind being harassed by every man in this here crew…"
She shook her head, picked up the fabrics and hurried to her cabin.
Two hours later and Lúcia was rather proud of her craftsmanship. Having never been one for the more delicate pursuits such as embroidery and sewing it had taken some serious concentration and determination but the end result was fairly successful she decided. The heavy breeches had been a little large so she had sliced off some of the fabric from her dress to create a patterned red sash that now held the item up around her hips. Tucked into them was a loose shirt made from the dark burgundy cloth that McGregor had presented her with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a slashed neckline; the material was light, luxuriously soft and evidently had been stolen from a colonial fabric trader. Additionally she had ripped a strip of the thick, cream, lacy undercoat of the dress and used it to bind back her unruly hair which was now swept over one shoulder aside from the rouge curls that had already slipped out. Really, she thought, it was more practical than anything she had worn in her life; she may look like a pirate but there was a reason they dressed like so! At least she would be able to work unhindered by petticoats and perhaps blend in a little until she decided where to dismount the ship and being her new life. She looked through the window and was surprised to see that though she had lit a candle earlier the daylight had now gone entirely; did McGregor intend to begin instructing her in her duties now or should she wait until morning?
I don't even know where he is currently!
Suddenly she realised that it was a fantastic excuse for her to tour the ship properly. She hadn't seen anything of the Misty Lady yet aside from her cabin and the lower deck and couldn't deny that she was itching to explore.
What if Teague takes offense to me snooping about?
She shook her head and pushed the thought to the side as she opened the door and peered out hesitantly.
"He never said I couldn't after all…"
Cautiously she slipped outside. The deck was quiet apart from several lone pirates, in what she supposed must be look out points, with the ambience of the crashing waves and billowing sails masking the sound of the door shutting. She peered down a staircase that led to the lower levels and heard the sound of snoring pirates. Stifling a laugh she slowly made her way up to stairways and headed towards the stern of the ship; she noticed that a door on the quarter deck was slightly ajar with the glow of candlelight illuminating the entrance. Curiosity piqued she crept along the deck and peered inside. The room was dully lit by the small candle flames but she could make out a desk covered in charts that appeared to be weighted down by bottles of amber liquid. In the centre of the cabin was a surprisingly large bed with an impressive wooden chest at the foot. It was the bed though that made her moan with jealousy; the night, or day as was more accurate, sleeping in the hammock had left her with extremely tight back and neck muscles.
"I don't take kindly to spying…"
Startled, Lúcia jumped then to her dismay felt her cheeks flush. Movement in her peripheral vision drew her to the corner of the room where she internally groaned as she noticed Captain Teague sitting in the relative gloom behind the desk. He leaned forwards and his face became illuminated by the candlelight as he scrutinized her. Determined not to be the first to look away she stuck her chin out defiantly.
"I wasn't spying. I was looking for McGregor."
"Is that so? He's at the wheel presently so I am afraid whatever dire matter it was that you needed to attend to will have to wait" Teague replied drily.
"He's going to put me to work and I didn't want him to think I was being idle."
Teague raised an eyebrow in apparent amusement.
"If I might make an observation you seem almost excited by the prospect Miss de Marques. Fancy yourself as a pirate?"
"No" she replied quickly. "It's just… I don't…" she straightened up and glared at him "I am used to being useful Captain Teague. I've never been one to sit back and watch life pass by and I have no intention of starting to do so now!"
Teague grinned somewhat nastily.
"Well then, you can start at dawn."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Fine!"
Lúcia turned on her heel and made for the exit. However a memory came back to her and she stopped in the doorframe.
"What is the pirate code? Captain."
Teague narrowed his eyes at her.
"The code is the law" he replied harshly.
Sensing that she had heartily overstayed her welcome she dragged her gaze away from his and fled the room as nonchalantly as possible.
Teague stared at the space in the doorway where Lúcia had been for a few long moments before forcing himself to look away. Where the blazes had she heard about the code? He would have to have words with McGregor he decided; after all it wasn't as though she was destined to be a pirate therefore she had no business in knowing the lore of piracy! Irritated he pulled his shirt off and lay on the bed trying his absolute best to purge his mind of the images of olive skinned, dark eyed figures with shapely legs and deep red shirts and drifted off into an unsettled slumber.
Thoughts? Love it or hate it please let me know so I can improve…