As man hath caused a blemish...

Chapter Five
Crime and punishemnt

-I drew back with a hiss. My hand skidded along the work surface as he continued towards me until I managed to find a knife,

"Touch me and I'll cut it off" I said, hating my clipped English accent for the millionth time. They all had rough, *real* pirate-y voices and I was stuck sounding like the bloody Queen, no wonder I was a target...pirate-y voices? How terribly eloquent of me - but anyway. I was holding the knife like a novice and I knew it and he probably did too. He smirked, knocking the knife aside and slamming my hand into the countertop, his free hand wrapping around my throat and lifting me off the floor and back against the cupboards. The base of my spine was digging painfully into the edge, the back of my skull crushed against the cupboards and my feet a good half foot off the floor. Pritchett stepped closer, foul breath – something of a cross between fish, smoke and alcohol – bursting far too hot against the side of my neck as I managed to turn my head to one side. His tongue ran up the length of my throat, stopping just under my ear before he pulled back enough to whisper,

“Try it then” He challenged, dark humour dancing in his voice. I yelped as my shirt was torn and cold saline tinted air breezed across my breasts. I kicked out as best he could and there was a momentary scrabble as he pinned both my thighs open with his own bulk – god damn it I was making this *easier* for him,

“Fuck you” I spat at him, managing to grind the words out despite his hand tightening around my throat, my free hand scrabbling against the countertop looking for something, anything to hit him with. I merely succeeded in knocking off a few bottles of rum, whimpering as they smashed on the floor. I tried to punch him but he released my throat and caught my fist, allowing me to breathe, dropping my ass roughly onto the countertop. Mis-*take*. Trained to sing from an early age my lungs were probably my most powerful weapon. I opened my mouth and *screamed*. I don’t know why. I can remember thinking, wondering if anyone would come for me. It was really quite satisfying when Pritchett winced – I can’t *quite* get glass to shatter but that doesn’t mean I’m not bloody loud – before something was shoved into my mouth to muffle the noise, some cloth thing that made me gag,

“Jesus Christ” He growled, “you wanna ruin the mood or something?” He smirked, effectively pinning both my wrists in one hand. Oh god, I was thinking this was really going to happen. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed. Of all the strange, frightening and down right bizarre happenings that had gone on so far this was the worst. I tried to wriggle away as my jeans were literally cut open, opening my eyes long enough to see he was using the same knife I’d threatened him with only moments before. He was breathing heavy and my struggles renewed but he was at least eight tons stronger than me (exaggeration by the way. Apparently I’m prone to it) and then…a fist flew past my face, it was glorious. Pritchett’s pointed, shark like nose exploded and I was suddenly released. I turned to run – too frightened even to remember my manners enough to say thank you – and ran straight into a wall. No, walls didn’t breathe.

I looked up at Wiggs and nearly started crying then and there. Rawlings brushed past me, heading for Pritchett who was swearing and spitting the blood out of his mouth that streamed from the mess that was his nose. I briefly remembered something about sharks having ultra-sensitive snouts and felt a rather malicious stab of joy about it as Pritchett was dragged out. There were others behind Wiggs – Scholey, Kramer, Coyle and Irving who were all looking away from me. Even Wiggs wasn’t looking. For a few moments I thought it was because they were disgusted with me – I was after all – and then I realised the state of my clothes,

“Shit” I sat down, hard, drawing the rags of my shirt around my shoulders and pulling my knees up to my chest. Wiggs shrugged off his jacket, throwing it around my shoulders as he gave orders to the others,

“Take that waste of air up top and go explain what happened to the Cap’n. He’ll wanna know about this” He said firmly. The others filtered out, some of them shooting me unreadable looks. Wiggs turned back to me, “alright?” He asked awkwardly,

“I’ll get your coat back to you as soon as I find something to wear” I said softly, clinging to the familiar and trying to pretend that what had just happened…hadn’t. He seemed to understand, “oh god he ruined the Captains shirt, I’ll – I’ll have to stitch a new one” I babbled. I was offered a helping hand but refused it, rising on my own – wincing a little as I realised Pritchett hadn’t exactly been careful whilst cutting away my jeans. There was a cut on the inside of my thigh that I just *knew* would make it difficult to walk. Wiggs saw the wince and reached out to me again – bless him – but stopped as I flinched away violently, backing against the side once again, “it’s not that I don’t appreciate it I just…can’t be touched at the moment” I said, then borrowed what seemed to be his favourite word with a smile, “alright?” He caught the flicker of humour and nodded. I really, really wanted to be left alone but at the same time…was desperate not to be. I was escorted back to what had become ‘my’ cabin with Wiggs growling at anyone who dared to so much as look at me. Once inside I felt a little lost and was glad when he spoke,

“I’ll turn while you get changed” Wiggs promised, doing as he said, folding his arms and I just knew he was glaring at the door as if to dare anyone to come in. I hunted round the piles of repair work that I still had left to do, looking for something to salvage. I hated the silence but there was only one question running around in my head. I chewed it over for some time, slipping into a comparatively clean shirt and slowly sliding on a pair of breeches, wincing a little as the rough fabric scraped across the cut on my leg. I’d have to tend to that later. I was securing the belt around my waist when the question finally burst out,

“Why are you doing all this for me, Wiggs?” I asked softly, touching his shoulder briefly to let him know it was alright to turn back round, “not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s just not what I’d expect from a…from one of the crew” I said, looking down. Though my gaze was lowered I still saw him shrug one of his shoulders,

“I like ya” He said simply, a horrified look crossing his face as I looked up at him suddenly, some fear probably showing across my face as I did so. I didn’t mean to take a step back, plastering myself against the wall. Wiggs was probably one of the only people on the entire ship that I’d happily trust but I was still frightened, “No! Not like that!” He said quickly, raising both hands as if to display his lack of threat, “no, my tastes run, er, in a different direction” He…was he blushing then? “you remind me of my little sister is all” He shrugged, looking a little lost, “plus Pritchett’s an’ arse who’s had it comin’ to him for a few years now” He said, just a hint of smugness coming into his voice that made me smile. His own smile grew into a hesitant grin…it was all rather sweet really now that I think about it, “you look like a kid in grown ups clothes” He said. I looked down and realised that the clothes I’d picked out really did hang off me. I laughed a little, plucking the material of the shirt a good foot away from my own skin,

“I’ll take it in lat-” I was interrupted at a sharp knock at the door,

“Cap’n wants ya, both of ya, on deck now” Scholey said, sticking his head round the door – swearing as one of the coral stems growing from his cheekbone clipped the door frame,

“Um” I didn’t get a chance to reply before Scholey closed the door again, “fuck” I swore, not even bothering to do it under my breath. Damn it, after everything I’d been through I think I had the right to swear as much as I pleased,

“Think you can do it?” Wiggs asked, even as he opened the door,

“Do I have a choice?” Automatic mouth as my consciousness went in on myself, a routine check to make sure that all my clothes were in the right place and no one would get a flash of anything I’d rather they didn’t see and I limped out, feeling sticky warm blood running down my leg as I clambered up to the top deck, feeling rather than seeing Wiggs walking behind me like my very own body guard…I’d always wanted a big brother.

The light blinded me as we climbed onto the top deck. What looked like the whole crew had gathered on deck, noise and cruel laughter died as I appeared. Davy Jones turned as Collins nodded in my direction,

“Miss Spyce” He called to me, the silence on deck almost deafening, “we’ve all heard how your honour was very nearly impugned by the cooks amorous advances” The Captain was saying, his expression grim – no. Angry...I pulled the loose shirt around me tighter, trying not to look at the crew. *Everyone* knew? “is this true, Miss Spyce?” All eyes on me and I wanted to sink through the boards. Only Wiggs hand on my shoulder kept me from running away,

“Y-yes, sir” I hated myself as my teeth chattered together

"Then a punishment must be prescribed” He stepped to one side, revealing Pritchett held against the main mast, swearing as he tried to fight off his ship mates, “fifteen lashes. Think you have the strength?" He asked, a mocking lilt to the corners of his words as he thrust the whip at me. I took it from his crab clawed hand, looking down at it for the longest time. There was a strange kind of silence on deck as I did so. I was actually weighing it in my hand, wondering if I really *could* do this...I'd never inflicted pain on another human being before...I don't think beating my little brother in pillow fights counted..."Miss Spyce" The Captain reminded me in stern tones. I looked up at Pritchett’s bare back, watching him tremble and handed the whip back,

"No sir, can't" He looked at me for a moment as he re-adjusted his grip on the handle and - without further preamble or warning - the whip lashed out. Pritchett grunted with the effort of not crying out. I turned away, unable to watch, wishing I could stuff something in my ears to block out the noise, counting each whip crack and fervently hurried them along, my own back twinging in sympathy,

"Let that be a lesson to all of you" Jones boomed after an eternity - or rather, what felt like it. I up to see him looking around the crew with all the regal baring of an emperor, "there will be no discord on my ship without recompense...what are you staring at? You've got duties to attend to!" He roared with a broad gesture. I wasn't fast enough to miss him catching my eye, "Miss Spyce, a word in my cabin if you please" Wiggs shot me a sympathetic look as I followed along behind the Captain, feeling as if I myself was due a whipping or worse. As if I'd failed some kind of test.

I was too frightened to notice that Jones held the door open for me, ushering me inside with his crab claw on my lower back. I was trembling as he brushed past, limping over to that organ of his but merely sitting on the bench, facing me rather than it. In a brief flash of suicidal tendencies my mind threw up the image of Neptune, god of the sea, sitting imperiously on his throne and I had to bite back a nervous, no, terrified giggle,

"That man hurt you" He said eventually, just as I was on the verge of squirming under his gaze. He reached into his jacket for that damnable pipe,

"Not really" I murmured, remembering to add, "sir" just as his eyebrow rose, his head tilting to one side in a slightly jerky movement,

"The bruises on your throat state otherwise" he said, gesturing with his pipe before lighting it as I raised a hand to my throat. He pointed once more but this time to an old, heavily tarnished mirror on the wall, the edges were stained with black and crusted with sea things but the centre was still visible. I glanced at it – noting the dark black fingerprints at my throat – and then again as I saw the change in myself. White, translucent scales decked the skin beneath my eyes, on my temples and cheekbones…down either side of my throat to disappear beneath my shirt. The scales on my face were tiny and shimmered pink and green in the light as I moved, the ones on my throat and shoulders were larger but more or less the same colour,

"Yes well" I said weakly. He sighed, a bubbling growl that ended in one of those strange little 'pop's,

"Why didn't you use the whip, lass?" His tone was almost, *almost*, tender, questioning and a little tired,

"I'm-" not like you. The words were right there, on the tip of my tongue and I made a stupid sound trying to swallow it back down, "I don't like hurting people" I explained, fiddling with the cut in the thigh on my jeans. He stood up, hands…well...one claw and a tentacled hand, clasped behind his back as he limped, pacing the area, walking towards me and then back to his stool,

"Even though they hurt you?" He asked after a long pause broken only by the resonant bass of his, er, peg leg. He came to a stop in front of me, one hand taking the pipe from his mouth,

"Aye, sir" I replied quietly, practically hypnotised by those eyes of his. When you looked into his eyes...you really could believe this man literally had the ocean flowing through his veins,

"No matter the hurt?” He asked. I looked down, unable to keep up that gaze for so long. It wasn’t exactly disturbing but it was…different…to my horror my vision started to blur, the shaking in my limbs was getting worse and I’ve never felt so cold. Everything was starting to catch up with me, the whole series of events running madly through my minds eye, self blame and what I *should* have done listing in an endless loop in my mind

“Aye, sir” I squeaked. The claw crab hand lifted my chin back up and I was almost relieved when his eyes weren’t staring into mine but rather watching the too hot tears that ran tracks down my face. A slender tentacle, the very tip in fact, ran over my lower lip, pulling slightly, coaxing my lips apart ever so slightly and tickling the circle of sensitive flesh so very delicately for what felt like an eternity,

“Get out of my sight, Spyce” He said, no venom or temper in his voice at all as he shoved me away, “and when I give you an order next time you will obey it or feel the lash of the whip yourself, understood?”

“A-aye sir” I replied as I backed out, scrubbing at my eyes and trembling for a reason that I wasn’t quite sure of. I slammed the door behind me accidentally and leant on it a moment. This ship was hell and the Captain was the devil. But good lord, *what* a devil he was.
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A/N :- is that chapter title cliche or WHAT?! XD