Streets of Tortuga
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
2,618
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
2,618
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Lost in the past
Title: Streets of Tortuga.
Or: Rum Rum Rum, as fast as you can.
- The title could be changed anytime.
Genre: so far: Action(?). Later on I'll integrate some romance. Yay, that DOES mean smut! ;)
Pairing: J/OC
Rating: PG-13 for this one - sorry 'bout that, smut's sure to follow later on, promise!
Summary: Jack bumps (if you can call it like that *giggles*) into a girl with an unpronouncable name, a little pirate-wannabe with a headache: Sijtje.
In this third chapter, Sijtje remembers how she came to Tortuga - why still remains pretty unclear though. She is at a loss about what to do...
Setting: Tortuga (well, at least that's where it all starts. As always.). Some 15 years before the movie, Jack being young but Captain of The Pearl already.
Notes: Sijtje is - indeed - a Dutch name. Please don't let me write down how to pronounce it - I can't! Meet me in person and I'll tell you.
Things written between [ ]-brackets are Sijtjes thoughts.
Disclaimer: Don't own Jack. Otherwise he'd be in my bed, not in the streets of Tortuga! Sadly, he's from Duckburg.
Not makin' any money with this - more like losin' it over all this pirate-stuff. Dont sue - just givin' Jack a li'll sexual excercise, what could be wrong with that?
Feedback: yes, PLEASE. But easy on the goods darlin'!
punx@gmx.li
----
Chapter 3: -- Lost in the past --
So here they were. Sijtje felt utterly insecure how to proceed.
She had come here, to Tortuga, by ship of course, first taking a "perfectly respectable" civillian ship - the Amstelveen - carrying supplies - bricks, slaves, women and mail. She had sailed from Texel, the small Dutch Island from which so many ships left to the colonies. The ship she boarded was called the Amstelveen and was going to Willemstad in Curacao.
She had feared that she'd have a hard time getting accepted (and left alone) as a female passenger on a ship carrying only men, a ship that spent months at sea without any new amorous adventures in sight, with boredom luring in every windless day at sea.
So she had taken some of her brothers old clothes - he had been a Mercenary for everyone requiring a good fighter and being able and willing to pay handsomely for it. It had been easy to adjust them to conceal her breasts, especially since they were not too big anyway.
Under her trouwsers she had put on a belt, a hollowed out bullshorn between two round leather satchels attached to it. Having grown up on the streets of Amsterdam, filled with women striving to escape their sex and by that, their poverty, had been good for that, at least.
She ruthlessly cut off her hair until it was no longer than her ears - with her brothers bonnet on top of it, it looked exactly the same way as fashion dictated it to young military officers.
And there she was: Stefan van Veen, a pitiful young lad without the faintest trace of a beard, dressed in colorful soldier's clothes who was seeking his fortune in the Colonies after his rich father had died, thus ceasing to give him the protection a bastard needed in the Dutch Gentry. It was the perfect cover-story.
And if Stefan's hair grew pretty long on the journey, who would seek a woman behind him, when he, the lad of 16 years tops, was boasting about his experiences with women all the time?
Apart from that - most sailors had long hair, too - there simply was no time for foolishness like haircuts on board of a ship whose crew was fighting the scurvy, pirates or boredom (the latter mostly with rum or brandy) most of the time.
Thus, Sijtje came to Willemstad, Curacao, unharmed but tanned, roughened and with a profound knowledge of the english language, which she had learned from a slave aboard the Amstelveen.
The slave, Carl, had been sold to an English Merchant who, years after that, came to Amsterdam, needed money and in turn sold his slave to some high person of the East India Trading Company. Carl's fate had been decided when he had spat his new owner in the face. The rebellious slave was hoarded into the stinking, pityful pit of the Amstelveen where the slaves were held, seeing too many of the women being raped, too many children dying from hunger and thirst, too many men going crazy, hurting themselves, getting sick, dying.
He had been saved from this fate because he, by lucky chance, was allowed by the ship's Captain to work with the Amstelveen's cook, since the cook's mate had recently died of scurvy.
Sijtje spent a great deal of her time aboard the Amstelveen with the cook and Carl - learning English and joking with them, feeling at home in the too small but somehow comfy galley of the ship, with her two new friends.
Needless to say, she freed Carl and the thirtytwo other surviving slaves (the Amstelveen had had 45 of them aboard to begin with, not a great number for a Merchant's vessel to the Colonies, which always needed new workers), two nights before their arrival at the shores of Curacao. She freed them in the dead of the night and guided them to a ready made longboat with enough food and supplies to last them to the next island far enough from Willemstad for them not to be asked any questions. The Captain of the Amstelveen only found out about the disappeared longboat and slaves twelve hours later, when the drunk deckwatch finally noticed the missing boat.
Who had freed the slaves, why and how, remained a mystery on the ship.
Of course, nobody suspected the likeable, naive Stefan van Veen to be the criminal they were searching for.
.-.-.
In Willemstad, Sijtje said goodbye to the Amstelveen and her crew, changed into her shabby old women's clothed again - God, it felt good to wear a dress again, to have solid ground under her feet again, not to have to pretend anymore - and checked into the cheapest pension she could find.
Having counted her sparse money which had never been plentiful to begin with, she took a job as a maid. She got bored of it within two weeks. After quitting that job at a perfectly respectable home of a Dutch sailorman (who, as a small and still perfectly respectable flaw, had the habit of hitting his personnel), she became friends with some less respectable but more exciting parts of the Curacaoican population.
She moved into the "Gulden Swaen", a brothel, and worked there for the owner, Mevrouw van Zevenen, as a maid, later as a pickpocket on the streets of Willemstad. Only never as a whore - she had slept with men before, but there had been only three of them and she didn't get what was so special about it anyway. Besides, she refused to be that dependant on a man's mercy - no, she'd never become a whore.
After three months, she got bored again - so she said goodbye to Mevrouw van Zevenen, sewed her savings into her clothes, pinned up her hair, put a bonnet on it and put on her brother's old Mercenary Uniform again. She went straight to the hidden Pirate's harbour (a regular client of Mevrouw van Zevenen had told her how to find it), calling herself "Jan" and becoming a cook on the Dragon's Tail, a pirate ship which was headed for Tortuga.
Nobody on board ever took her for a girl.
She made some friends immediately, since she loved gambling as much as they did. Her knowledge of the English language was further improved on the "Tail", since her Crew consisted of a jumble of questionable types out of all the known world. English was the main language on the ship, though there were Spanish, Dutch, Greek, Portugese and French crewmembers aboard as well.
So here she was - Tortuga, finally. And the first thing she did was kill a man, flee from her own anger and despair, fall asleep in some alley and wake up the following day not only realising that all this had indeed not been a dream, but also finding one of the strangest blokes she had ever seen staring at her.
A great start to her new life that was, really. What had she fled Holland for, anyway?
-----
So here it is, finally, chapter three. No Jack, I'm sorry, people - but I really had to work up the more recent background of my character, for myself as well as for you, methinks.
But no worries, with the next chapter, the story will finally start - and I promise not to stay this grave (just had the feeling I should address the actual context of the time all this takes place). I already got the plot roughly outlined - I just don't exactly know when I will be able to write it. I'll keep you posted, though.
Reviews, PLEASE, they make me go on!
punx@gmx.li is my email - or just leave a comment at the comment-section.
Or: Rum Rum Rum, as fast as you can.
- The title could be changed anytime.
Genre: so far: Action(?). Later on I'll integrate some romance. Yay, that DOES mean smut! ;)
Pairing: J/OC
Rating: PG-13 for this one - sorry 'bout that, smut's sure to follow later on, promise!
Summary: Jack bumps (if you can call it like that *giggles*) into a girl with an unpronouncable name, a little pirate-wannabe with a headache: Sijtje.
In this third chapter, Sijtje remembers how she came to Tortuga - why still remains pretty unclear though. She is at a loss about what to do...
Setting: Tortuga (well, at least that's where it all starts. As always.). Some 15 years before the movie, Jack being young but Captain of The Pearl already.
Notes: Sijtje is - indeed - a Dutch name. Please don't let me write down how to pronounce it - I can't! Meet me in person and I'll tell you.
Things written between [ ]-brackets are Sijtjes thoughts.
Disclaimer: Don't own Jack. Otherwise he'd be in my bed, not in the streets of Tortuga! Sadly, he's from Duckburg.
Not makin' any money with this - more like losin' it over all this pirate-stuff. Dont sue - just givin' Jack a li'll sexual excercise, what could be wrong with that?
Feedback: yes, PLEASE. But easy on the goods darlin'!
punx@gmx.li
----
Chapter 3: -- Lost in the past --
So here they were. Sijtje felt utterly insecure how to proceed.
She had come here, to Tortuga, by ship of course, first taking a "perfectly respectable" civillian ship - the Amstelveen - carrying supplies - bricks, slaves, women and mail. She had sailed from Texel, the small Dutch Island from which so many ships left to the colonies. The ship she boarded was called the Amstelveen and was going to Willemstad in Curacao.
She had feared that she'd have a hard time getting accepted (and left alone) as a female passenger on a ship carrying only men, a ship that spent months at sea without any new amorous adventures in sight, with boredom luring in every windless day at sea.
So she had taken some of her brothers old clothes - he had been a Mercenary for everyone requiring a good fighter and being able and willing to pay handsomely for it. It had been easy to adjust them to conceal her breasts, especially since they were not too big anyway.
Under her trouwsers she had put on a belt, a hollowed out bullshorn between two round leather satchels attached to it. Having grown up on the streets of Amsterdam, filled with women striving to escape their sex and by that, their poverty, had been good for that, at least.
She ruthlessly cut off her hair until it was no longer than her ears - with her brothers bonnet on top of it, it looked exactly the same way as fashion dictated it to young military officers.
And there she was: Stefan van Veen, a pitiful young lad without the faintest trace of a beard, dressed in colorful soldier's clothes who was seeking his fortune in the Colonies after his rich father had died, thus ceasing to give him the protection a bastard needed in the Dutch Gentry. It was the perfect cover-story.
And if Stefan's hair grew pretty long on the journey, who would seek a woman behind him, when he, the lad of 16 years tops, was boasting about his experiences with women all the time?
Apart from that - most sailors had long hair, too - there simply was no time for foolishness like haircuts on board of a ship whose crew was fighting the scurvy, pirates or boredom (the latter mostly with rum or brandy) most of the time.
Thus, Sijtje came to Willemstad, Curacao, unharmed but tanned, roughened and with a profound knowledge of the english language, which she had learned from a slave aboard the Amstelveen.
The slave, Carl, had been sold to an English Merchant who, years after that, came to Amsterdam, needed money and in turn sold his slave to some high person of the East India Trading Company. Carl's fate had been decided when he had spat his new owner in the face. The rebellious slave was hoarded into the stinking, pityful pit of the Amstelveen where the slaves were held, seeing too many of the women being raped, too many children dying from hunger and thirst, too many men going crazy, hurting themselves, getting sick, dying.
He had been saved from this fate because he, by lucky chance, was allowed by the ship's Captain to work with the Amstelveen's cook, since the cook's mate had recently died of scurvy.
Sijtje spent a great deal of her time aboard the Amstelveen with the cook and Carl - learning English and joking with them, feeling at home in the too small but somehow comfy galley of the ship, with her two new friends.
Needless to say, she freed Carl and the thirtytwo other surviving slaves (the Amstelveen had had 45 of them aboard to begin with, not a great number for a Merchant's vessel to the Colonies, which always needed new workers), two nights before their arrival at the shores of Curacao. She freed them in the dead of the night and guided them to a ready made longboat with enough food and supplies to last them to the next island far enough from Willemstad for them not to be asked any questions. The Captain of the Amstelveen only found out about the disappeared longboat and slaves twelve hours later, when the drunk deckwatch finally noticed the missing boat.
Who had freed the slaves, why and how, remained a mystery on the ship.
Of course, nobody suspected the likeable, naive Stefan van Veen to be the criminal they were searching for.
.-.-.
In Willemstad, Sijtje said goodbye to the Amstelveen and her crew, changed into her shabby old women's clothed again - God, it felt good to wear a dress again, to have solid ground under her feet again, not to have to pretend anymore - and checked into the cheapest pension she could find.
Having counted her sparse money which had never been plentiful to begin with, she took a job as a maid. She got bored of it within two weeks. After quitting that job at a perfectly respectable home of a Dutch sailorman (who, as a small and still perfectly respectable flaw, had the habit of hitting his personnel), she became friends with some less respectable but more exciting parts of the Curacaoican population.
She moved into the "Gulden Swaen", a brothel, and worked there for the owner, Mevrouw van Zevenen, as a maid, later as a pickpocket on the streets of Willemstad. Only never as a whore - she had slept with men before, but there had been only three of them and she didn't get what was so special about it anyway. Besides, she refused to be that dependant on a man's mercy - no, she'd never become a whore.
After three months, she got bored again - so she said goodbye to Mevrouw van Zevenen, sewed her savings into her clothes, pinned up her hair, put a bonnet on it and put on her brother's old Mercenary Uniform again. She went straight to the hidden Pirate's harbour (a regular client of Mevrouw van Zevenen had told her how to find it), calling herself "Jan" and becoming a cook on the Dragon's Tail, a pirate ship which was headed for Tortuga.
Nobody on board ever took her for a girl.
She made some friends immediately, since she loved gambling as much as they did. Her knowledge of the English language was further improved on the "Tail", since her Crew consisted of a jumble of questionable types out of all the known world. English was the main language on the ship, though there were Spanish, Dutch, Greek, Portugese and French crewmembers aboard as well.
So here she was - Tortuga, finally. And the first thing she did was kill a man, flee from her own anger and despair, fall asleep in some alley and wake up the following day not only realising that all this had indeed not been a dream, but also finding one of the strangest blokes she had ever seen staring at her.
A great start to her new life that was, really. What had she fled Holland for, anyway?
-----
So here it is, finally, chapter three. No Jack, I'm sorry, people - but I really had to work up the more recent background of my character, for myself as well as for you, methinks.
But no worries, with the next chapter, the story will finally start - and I promise not to stay this grave (just had the feeling I should address the actual context of the time all this takes place). I already got the plot roughly outlined - I just don't exactly know when I will be able to write it. I'll keep you posted, though.
Reviews, PLEASE, they make me go on!
punx@gmx.li is my email - or just leave a comment at the comment-section.