A Memory Of Tortuga

A Memory of Tortuga

CHAPTER 1

“I can ‘ot believe ye’ be askin’ me such a thing, child”

“Gran’mother…”

“It’s rather a private affair, don’ ye’ think? What, askin’ a women ‘bout losing ‘er maid’n’ead…” I sighed, and then, not so gracefully as in years past, fell haphazardly into the worn, but once decadent armchair he long ago had pushed into this darkened recess of the room.

“Gran’mother, I just thought…”

“Thought what, girl? That by draggin’ the tale out of an agin’ ‘ore ye’d be doing ye’self a favor? Ye ‘onestly think I would be willin’ly invitin’ the same fate upon ye’?”

I picked my clouded brandy glass off the dusty table that has long sat by this chair, swirled the caramel liquid ‘round the glass but once, and then drank deeply. My eyes glazed for a brief moment, transporting me back to that night, that night so long ago. The most short-lived of smiles crept upon my crackled lips before Maria started up once again.

“Gran’mother, y’know better than I it be the only means I’ll ‘ave once y’be gone…”

Jolted from my memory, I became angry towards the poor girl.

“An I know better than ye’ what pain the heart be feelin’ when a dead child tumbles from ye’ cunt. Would ye’ like to ‘ear bout that, as well? Why, after I ‘ad ye’ mum, I buried two ne’er drew breath. An’ I ‘ad to bury ‘er, too, whilst ye’ were still a babe at the teat.”

A battle of a cough shot through me, hard enough to water my eyes. I brought the cloth from my lap to my lips and finished the blasted storm. When I removed it the pale lace was spotted with red, much more than last time. I knew, but didn’t want to alarm Maria, so I quickly folded it, and placed it back from where it came.

I didn’t want this for her, but I knew my time was running out. She would follow family tradition, or she would starve.

“Y’ be alright?”

“Aye, child. Tis a chill in the air tonight, that be all. No worry then. Fetch me an apple, Maria, please love?”

She glided through the room, graceful as a cat, she was. I was such, once, and so young. Was I really that age when I met him?

“An’ bring more brandy, love, if we to be sittin’ ‘ere a long bit.”

Silently gloating over her victory, she slid back to my corner, a bottle of brandy beneath each delicate arm, dragging a rickety old chair in one hand, and in the other… a shiny, flawless, green apple, which she handed to me most unceremoniously, with a roll of her sea-blue eyes and a toss of her glossy red hair.

I placed the fruit upon my lap, rubbed my hollowed thumb over its cool, smooth skin and closed my dry and tired eyes. For a moment I swear, I smelled the sea, the way it used to waft off his person…

“Alright, child. If sordid tales from an ol’ wom’n be what ye’ searchin’ for, you sit an’ list’n, but, If’n I be tellin,’ ye’ be gettin’ it from the start, an’ the whole of’t. Don’ be intr’upptin’.”

She drew the chair up in front of me and neatly folded herself into its worn seat, kicking her feet up on the tired table, while fluidly popping the cork of the bottle with her as of yet, still mostly white teeth.

I closed my eyes again, as I don’t think I could ever tell such things to my granddaughter whilst looking her in her face. I leaned back further into my chair, hoping to relax the pressure so frequently bearing down on my chest as of late. I began to tell her the story she had tried for so many weeks to coax from me. One last gift I recon’…

“Me mum was a ‘ore, ‘ere in Tortuga. Father, well, ‘e was shall we say, a man of the sea, a gentleman of fortune, as’t were. Odd fellow, from wha’ I been told. ‘ad me when she was twen’y, an’ left me in this world but six years la’er, in the care of me twelve year old sister, Giselle. ‘Selle, as I call’d ‘er. She took up the trade shortly after, to keep food in me belly, an’ she ne’er was ‘eard complainin’ bout it none. An’ so me life was. I saw wha’ that life did, wha’ t’ings ‘Selle be doin’ for us to eat. I di’n’t want that for meself…”


---Thirty-four years earlier---

“Tis a dreadful hot season. I would give me arm for but one drop of rain.”

“An’ I would give me cunny a day off if’n ye’ ever stop ye’ complainin’ bout the bloody weather. Isabella, really love, we all know it be hot, but ye’ jus’ be makin’ it worse talkin’ bout it!”

“Sorry, ‘Selle. A bit cranky I be, tis all. T’ink I take a walk, sea air do me some good. That be wha’ I need”

“Wha’ she need be a short turn on a stiff cock…”

My sister smacked the whore whole in her jaw, “Stow it, ‘ester.”

I kissed ‘Selle on her cheek and I walked off, a spring in my step and my knee-length black hair lifted by the breeze. My sister… there was so much she didn’t understand about me, and I her. But she loved me and she was all I had in this world.

But to sell my body… for what? So I can eat? I know how to steal a piece of bread, how to lift the purse right off the sailors when they made port. Pirates? Ha, the whole lot of them became nothing but drooling, drunken dolts the moment their feet hit the shore. In search of rum and a warm hole for but a minute or two before they unload, throw some coin at your feet and then it’s off to the tavern again.

No, I won’t be finding my living that way. Sixteen years old and I have held dear to that one piece of me that ‘Selle would have had me barter off years ago. When I told her it would be held for that one man who would one day sweep me off my feet, she nearly doubled over with laughter.

“Fancy tale for a child, love. Ye’ won’ be meetin’ men of that like here. Tis Tortuga, sweet, we be ‘ores, and ye’ best be getting’ that into ye’ skull soon,” she had said, while tapping the side of my head.

The others, the whores whom lived in the same boarding house as we did, they were no better. I heard them through the paper thin walls… some of them had been taking bets as to how long it would be before some drunken sailor had enough of my flippant attitude and shoved my cock-teasing ass into some wet alley and took from me what he wanted, without a single coin having let fall.

I’d stab the base cur through the heart, I would.

Nevertheless, it was getting harder to keep them at bay. I had barely taken notice of what my body had done to itself in the past year. What had once been a chest as flat as a plank had somehow become two pristine porcelain globes that barely kept themselves contained within my corset.

It was still my favorite corset, emerald green trimmed with black lace. It looked right enough with my amethyst and black petticoats. I was thin, but my bottom had also started to become shapely, and I only had to wear the slightest hint of kohl to rim my eyes. My sister said my sable eyes were the only thing that made mother certain of my father’s blood…

But, because of all this, just walking the narrow streets of town had become a chore. Especially when the larger ships came in.

I stopped my walk, my eyes catching a glimpse of something on the scarlet horizon. “Oh, bloody ‘ell.”


That was quite possibly the largest ship I had seen this season, which meant one thing: I should hurry home, barricade myself in the room ‘Selle and I shared, try to keep quite and hide while she worked. I’d head out later, when the liquor had its hold, and empty their pockets then, in what I considered the ‘honorable’ method.

My previously leisurely gait had been replaced by a fast walk, and I almost tumbled over poor ‘Selle while cresting the boardwalk.

“What be ye’ ‘urry, love?”

Before I could answer she saw over my shoulder.

“Looks like we be eatin’ a right bit be’er the next few days, love. Could fetch a good bit for what ye’ be ‘idin’…” As she mock raised my skirts.

“I am no ‘ore. I told ye’ this.”

‘Selle grabbed my cheeks with one hand and drew my eyes up to meet hers, “Stop foolin’ ye’self, love. Ye’ be what ye’ be. Wha’ we all be.”

I tore away from her grasp and ran through the dusty Tortuga streets, hell-bent on getting home before their longboats hit the shore.


CHAPTER 2


Hours pass and I finally leave the comfort and safety of the room, ready to brave the rowdy streets once more. Darkness has fully set and the nightlife is very lively indeed.

Torches light the ways and rows. From all corners, the noises of Tortuga swell to overwhelming proportions. Pistol shots, screams, yelling, cussing, chairs being thrown, glass shatters, a cackle rises up and soon dies away, insect wings hum as they swarm… Such it was most every night.

I made my way through the narrow streets, now littered with the bodies of those too drunk to walk any further, and the occasional corpse… or three. I step around the bodies with ease, having done so many times before. By morning they will all be gone, either carried off to their hammocks by their own crew, or drug off by wild dogs to be fed upon like carrion.

I see a young man, not much more than myself in size, swaying deeply from not only the drink in his blood, but also his sudden unfamiliarity with solid, steady ground. The way he swings around his words, it doesn’t take long for me to hear what wealth he carries in his pockets. I follow for a bit, hoping he’ll soon tire and hopefully pass out.

My luck, he trips his way between two taverns. Well hidden, it would suffice. Close behind, but not enough to be seen, I observe. He wrestles with his breeches for a moment and proceeds to relieve himself upon the wall. Disgusting creatures…

I move. Before he hears me I have my blade to his throat, “Just give me ye’ purse, sailor.”

A true miscalculation on my part, for he is not as inebriated as he originally appeared, and with lightning speed I’ve an elbow to my throat and a blade to my gut. I must be getting rusty…

“Dumb cunt. Ye’ think’t wise t’ be pullin’ a blade on a pirate?”

His dirty mouth curls into a sneer when his eyes finally fall on his would-be attacker. He raises his blade, slowly, calculating, up my stomach and drags the blade a bit harder across my chest, snagging the lace from my corset, all the while moving his body closer toward mine. He has pushed my back to the wall and I can smell the rot of his teeth and the rancid sweat from his body as he moves in, closer still.

“Teach ye’ a lit’l lesson, I should.” His acrid breath burns my nostrils as his free hand gropes for the hem of my skirts.

My mind is racing. Not here. Not like this… please… I should have waited, waited until later. This one wasn’t drunk enough… Oh, God, where is ‘Selle? Someone, help… Don’t cry. Don’t cry, you fool. Don’t let this brute see that fear, he’ll feed off it, that’s all. Steely reserve, where are you?

Knife to my throat or not, I have to move and it has to be now. I bring my knee up, hard, hard enough to warrant a gasp from my own mouth. The tip of the blade slides from my neck and lightly pierces my chin, a drop of blood, no more.

I push him away and rush with my back to the exit way, moving quickly… but not quick enough. A fist to my cheek, the fist of a man whose days are filled with non-stop work, violent work, a hand used to hard labor…silver specks flash behind my eyes as they fill with involuntary tears.

For a moment, I can no longer hear and I am sure that he will do as he please whether I am conscious or not. I fall back, not yet to the flickering light of the street, the last thing I am to feel in this world being dried mud and the sour fluids that run in the gutters.

But it is not to be. Instead of the hard, unyielding ground, I feel my shoulder crash into a fleshy chest, firm beneath the waistcoat that covers it. An arm comes up and catches me by the middle. I just barely have my faculties about me when I hear him,

“If the lady be sayin’ no, then it be no.”

A pistol blast steals by my ear and I am deafened briefly, once more. I feel the scorching heat of the molten powder as several granules splay onto my cheek, and then the musty aroma from the smoking barrel envelopes me.

He tucks the pistol back into the fading orange sash about his hips and spins me out to the street, away from the bloody spectacle. It was only then that I raised my gaze and set my sight on… the most magnificently blue eyes I dare say ever sailed this earth.

“Ye’ be alright then, missy?”

I let out a weary “Aye, sir,” before I was once again drawn into those eyes. Like the sea they were. What must he think of me so brazenly staring up at him?

He roughly tilts my jaw this way and that, noting the knick on my chin and the red wash now radiating outward on my delicate cheekbone.

He reaches behind him, under his worn gray coat and brings forth another, smaller pistol. I bristle, thinking I have been saved from the ravages of one only to be thrown in to the arms of another. But, instead, he hands it to me handle first. I grasp it, but he doesn’t let go just yet.

“If ye’ be tryin’ to hunt the hunters, missy, best be leavin’ ye’ knife between ye’ busom and use this.”

Slightly taken aback, I nod, ashamed to have been so easily caught at my own game.

I sneak a shy smile and look to him once more, first for the glance at those piercing eyes, second to see more of the man they belong to.

He was older, surely. Forty-five? Fifty maybe? His skin was weathered by the years of salt. A scar ran through his brow. He had a scraggly reddish beard, partly bleached from the sun and his shoulder length hair, a lovely golden red held back with a braid under his enormous and overly feathery hat. A rather silly thing it was, really. The whites of those blue eyes had started to yellow, probably from a lack of decent food for so many months on end… He was smartly dressed, although his clothes were showing themselves to be mildly threadbare.

Still, there was an air of power about him. He must have been one to demand respect, for I could hear it even in the timbre of his voice. Gruff yet honey coated. He was supple, yet steadfast. Aging, but his vigor stirred just below the surface. What a paradox this man appeared to be…


“I… thank ye’, sir, for ‘elping me. Mister…?”

“That be Captain, to you, Missy. Barbossa.”

I must admit I stiffened at that name. I had heard the tales. I had not, however, actually seen him before. And after those words and my reaction, I swear I saw a hint of fire spring up in those eyes, a proud understanding on his part that his name was known, and often feared.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

“Thank ye’ then, Capt’n Barbossa.”

With a tip of his hat, a heavy laugh and a hearty swat to my bottom, he was gone, leaving me to put right in my own mind the events that had just transpired.

CHAPTER 3

I haven’t left this room in days. Partly it is my own fear that is holding me here, but mostly ‘Selle won’t dare let me out where others can see my face. My eye is almost swollen shut, and it has a menacing purple-black shade.

I don’t think ‘Selle believes me when I tell her I made off, virtue intact, with the aid of the infamous Captain. So be it, let her think what she will. I know, and that’s what truly matters.

I did not see him again that trip, and I wouldn’t for another six months. But as sure as a red dawn brings trouble, the port of Tortuga brings pirates.

We had finally gotten some rain and the streets were quite sodden in some of the more heavily traveled spots. I quickly adapted to hopping over the smaller puddles and rivulets, a quick pace and a strong jump helped take care of the larger ones, as well.

I was off to the wharf to feel the cool breeze on my skin when an odd flutter wormed its way into my chest. Gazing out to that horizon…I remember those sails!

I take off with a healthy sprint, straight away to home. This time I knocked the wind out of poor ‘Selle as I rushed past, landing her arse in a most runny puddle. Sadly, I had not the patience to turn around and hear whatever cuss she might throw my way.

I had thought about this…about him… for months. I just wanted to see him again, to see those eyes. It was such an odd obsession I had towards the Captain. He had to be three times my age and if only half the stories of him proved to be true, then he was a very dangerous man.

An absolute novice in dealing with men, despite my being raised by whores, I had hoped some rouge and a bit more kohl might capture me the attentions of one particular captain and then he’d… he’d… what the hell did I expect from him after that? I didn’t even know how to make whatever happens after then, happen. Oh, dear.

Oh, at the very least maybe he’d sit for a pint and tell me some tale of long buried treasure, just a little something to slake this strange infatuation recently taking hold of me. What would be the worst he could do? Laugh at this fool girl when he clearly had more experienced ladies to attend to? Well, no. That is rather far from the worst he could do now, isn’t it? But he had saved me from that particular fate before. Maybe it wasn’t in his nature to commit that act. I could hope.

I primped myself up real proper; my favorite corset, which seemed to fit tighter every time I wore it, a newer black skirt, a little extra color to my face and I was out the door as fast as I had flown into it, nearly bowling over my poor sister again.

“What the ‘ell be wrong with ye’ girl?”

But I was already out of sight.

It was still early on in the day, but the streets were already bustling. I made my way to the taverns just off the docks. It was the obvious place to start my search. I was bursting with hope, yet I was not fully sure what my insides were trying to tell me when I saw those black sails. But today I heard the voice of the sea and something purely innate began gnawing at my gut. He was here, somewhere.

I scan the faces that pass, having to mentally tell myself to breathe. From the corner of my eye, I see him with several of his crew enter the tavern across the street. Rather, I see his ridiculous hat feathers. But at least it is something I can be sure of. He is here.

I cross the street amid the calls of several men, but I have my mission and they are easy enough to ignore. I don’t see him when I enter, but as I scan the room I do see my sister’s friend, Hester. I maintain composure despite my disappointment and saunter over.

I don’t make it all the way to her corner before a strong hand falls on my shoulder.

“Wouldn’t by any chance be stalking me with me own pistol, would you now?”

My heart skips a beat.

“Now why would I do that, Capt’n?”

I turn slowly and make eye contact and when I find they are just as blue as I remember, I audibly inhale. A sly grin creeps upon his lips.

“What ye’ did for me, before… thank ye’, again.”

“Missy, if that be the highlight of your year, you don’t get out much.” He offers me his elbow and for a moment I am not sure what I plan on doing, but I wrap my arm through anyway.

He leads me over to a large table filled with other pirates and several of the women from the boarding house. They stare at me with looks of not only contempt, but also curiosity. The Captain pulls out the chair for me, and then gestures for me to sit. He takes the seat to the left of me and settles himself into the corner. The serving wenches start bringing food: Hugh amounts of food and drink. There has to be more here than what these men can eat in a week. Such extravagance and waste, it makes me feel almost guilty.

I’m not quite sure what is going on and I think my uncertainty has become noticeable to the Captain. He grabs the back of my chair and drags it a bit closer. He brings his mouth to my ear.

“Pleasurable company is always welcome with a fine meal, missy”

Reality creeps in and I start to comprehend what he is insinuating.

“I’m not a…”

That same grin flashed across his mouth, “I know.”

“Then what…”

He placed a finger over my lips and reached over me, grabbing a bottle, “Have some wine… Miss…”

“Isabella. Isabella Brazil.”

“Have some wine, Missy Brazil.”

It was a fine meal. Captain Barbossa and his men regaled myself and the boarding house whores for what seemed like hours with story after story of everything from buried treasures to cursed gold. The entire tavern seemed alive with voices. People drank and swayed, whores danced around the room from man to man in hopes of finding the biggest purse. Laughter and excess permeated everything.

I don’t know if it was the wine or the excitement or maybe even the overflowing carnal vibe that seemed to ooze from all four corners of the tavern, but I felt lightheaded. This was more than I had ever taken part in. It was exciting and absolutely terrifying all at the same time. I was staring at my wine glass, a million thoughts running through my mind, when the Captain’s voice broke the spell I was under.

“What be on your mind, Missy?’

I stayed quite still, focused on my glass, trying to figure out what exactly I wanted to say to him. I had dreamed of a night like this for months and now that I had it all within my grasp I was struck mute. It was sensory overload, and I was just a naïve girl well in over her head.

Then I did something that surprised the hell out of me and apparently effected the Captain, as well.

I took my hand off the stem of my glass and as fluidly as one can after having had that much wine, I brought my hand up to his cheek and leaned in. Then I kissed him. It wasn’t a kiss of passion. It was soft and sweet and… I hadn’t planned to do it at all.

He struck me unawares as his hand came up behind me and landed, firmly, on the small of my back, pulling me in closer towards him. His opposite hand found the rounded part of my hip and he deepened the kiss, nipping my lower lip and then sliding his tongue between my lips, slipping it across my upper palate.

Then something happened to me. I pulled back, head swimming and in one movement I was out of my chair and fleeing for the door.

Throughout the evening I had not paid much attention to the other people in the room and was unaware that ‘Selle was in the tavern. When she saw me take off, she had no idea what had occurred, but due to my speed and the tears that welled in my eyes, she knew something was wrong. She dropped the arm of the man she was working on and raced out of the tavern after me.

When she finally caught up to me I was down at the wharf, sliding down under the boardwalk. I was climbing to sit on a large boulder when she came running up.

“Love, what’s wrong? What ‘appened? What did ‘e say to ye’?”

Tears streamed down my cheeks. And I just shook my head, unable to tell her what was wrong.

“ ’e try to ‘urt ye’?”

“No.”

“Then what, love? What’s wrong?”

“Something ‘appened. To me.”

“I don’t understand, love.”

Unbeknownst to me, the Captain, having curiosity as to my rapid departure, had followed me to the wharf, but he stayed in the shadows, just listening.

“‘Selle… I, I kissed ‘im.”

“Alright… but I still don’t understand…”

“And ‘e kissed me back.”

‘Selle nodded, but stared at me unable to understand whatever hysteria had taken over my obviously shaken frame.

“And when ’e did, I think I wet me’self…”

“Pardon?”

“Me parts… they felt like I had…”


‘Selle laughed harder than I think anyone ever has laughed. She actually keeled over and slapped her knees!

“S’not funny. What ‘e must think…”

“That be normal, Isabelle. Ye’ didn’t wet ye’self! Oh Lord, child. It meant ye’ liked it!”

She knew I didn’t follow what she meant, and looked up at me with the most caring of eyes.

“Love, ye’ body, she be preparin’ ye’, getting’ ye’ ready for what comes next.”

“Oh, my. I… I didn’t… Oh my. That’s what that was? But I could ne’er…”

A noise from behind ‘Selle broke up our sisterly musings. In the moonlight, I could see the shape of the Captain coming up behind, her.

“ Everything alright, Miss Isabella?”

I was absolutely speechless, but ‘Selle, well, she did this for a living.

“She be alright, Capt’n. ‘ad a bit too much wine I ‘spect, got a little flush an’ ran out to avoid embarassin’ ye’”

“Well, Missy Brazil, I should have known ye’ had a bit too much. A bit of a walk, then? The air, she may clear ye’ head.”

‘Selle turned to look at me. There was urgency in that look. She leaned in and hugged me. She then whispered in my ear, “Love, if ye’ be wantin’ ‘im, ‘ave ‘im.”

She pushed away from me and addressed the Captain, “Aye. That sounds like a right good idea, it is. Isabella, I ‘ave work to do, love.”

And then she walked off, leaving me alone, in the company of my tormentor.


CHAPTER 4

The Captain once again offered me his arm and I wrapped mine around it. We walked on in silence for a moment before he spoke, “ Care to finish that though ye’ had back at the tavern, missy?”

Think, Isabella. What would ‘Selle say? I let out a silent sigh. I did want to feel his lips again…

“Care to remind me what I was sayin’, Capt’n?”

He needed no further encouragement. He stopped short, spun me around, back to one of the large boulders that dotted the shore. In a moment it seemed as if he had grown extra hands. One had found its way up to my hair and he roughly pulled my face into his. His mouth, pushing onto mine was fire-hot. His tongue forced between my lips and as if he was searching. It explored every soft, rounded recess. I could feel him in every pore. I could smell the salt on his skin and another aroma, the musky, headiness of… him.

His other hand smoothed down the expanse of my back, pulling me closer. He grasped me, hard, and I could feel his nails through the thin fabric. Roaming lower still he grasped one cheek of my arse, his sharp nails clawing into my soft and giving flesh.

The hasp of his belt dug into the flesh of my navel, the butt of his pistol pressed into my ribs, and lower still… that which made him man pushed against my lower belly with an urgency I did not understand, but my body responded by dampening once more, the heat of me becoming obvious through the thin fabric of my skirts.

He then stopped and abruptly pulled away. He stared into my eyes and I could see that his own were dilated and a light sweat hung on his brow.

“This might be a conversation for us to finish elsewhere, Missy.”

I think I knew what he meant. And although I was sure I wanted this to occur, I must admit fear and then sudden anticipation seized me. Where would he take me? Should I go to my room, the room I shared with my sister? Would he be gentle or would his more basic instinct take over?

I grasped his hand and nodded for him to follow me.

“My… room…”

His chuckle was all I heard.

I led him through the narrow streets leading to the boarding house. I said a silent prayer to myself when we reached the main door at street level. We entered, and he followed me up the grimy stairs to the second level. I stopped just outside my door, removing the key from the cord around my neck.

Hester was in her room, right next door to mine. She glance out, having just sent her last customer elsewhere, and gave me a sly, knowing grin. What a bitch.

I knew she would be listening, and instead of being offended, it excited me. I opened the door and let the Captain in. It was dark, and I made quick with lighting a few candles. The Captain had sat in the lovely armchair chair ‘Selle had just bought and he removed his boots.

When I had finished with the candles, I turned towards him. He maintained some distance between us as he removed his sword and pistol, laying them on the side table.

“Don’t think they’ll be a need for them for a bit.”

He removed his hat and coat placing them atop his other effects and then he set his sights on me. With more passion than before, his mouth assailed me. His roaming hands felt my sides, my arse, my hips and then he settled one on my right breast. He gave it a slight squeeze and this elicited a small gasp from my lips.

“Works better when it’s off, Missy.”

Nervousness set in and I tried to untie the laces, but my hands were shaky and the knot was quite tight. Captain Barbossa grabbed his dagger, left in his sash, and in one expert movement cut through the laces. Before I could protest the destruction of my most cherished piece of clothing, it was tossed to the floor.

He pressed hot kisses down my neck, stopping momentarily to nibble my collarbone. His mouth sought lower. He grasped one breast, biting the nipple ever so slightly. My sharp intake of breath was met by another quick nip, which sent a chill through me. A liquid fire seemed to be building just behind my skin.

“Off with ye’ skirts.”

With one hand he grasped the ties of my skirts and pulled. The fabric gave, and the sounds of them tearing top to bottom was the only thing could be heard. I suddenly found myself naked as birth before the Captain and for a moment I began to question my actions.

He didn’t give me much time to finish that thought as his mouth was upon me once again. His hand ran from my neck, over my breast, and his nails scraped down my stomach. An involuntary shudder went through me and then my muscles contracted under my flesh. He stopped his exploration when his finger met my dark triangle of curls and I let out a loud gasp.

The Captain removed his waistcoat and shirt, along with his orange sash. All that separated the Captain from my most private parts was his breeches, which he was already unbuttoning.

I had closed my eyes and when I heard his last stitch of clothing hit the floor my heart jumped. He was pushing me backwards, towards the bed. When its frame hit the back of my knees I had no choice but to sit upon it. He pushed me further on, and laid my head on one of the pillows.

In a moment, his full weight was upon me, and his tongue once again danced with mine. I know I was shaking.

“It’s alright to touch me, girl. I don’t bite, unless you ask nicely.”

I ran my fingers down his neck and was quite surprised at the amount of muscle I found on his chest. I could feel old scars, the skin thick.

“Not like that.”

His hand grasped mine and slowly he dragged it down his belly. I flinched when I felt the side of his shaft against my hand. The light touch made it move, as if on its own. His hand over mine, he placed it around his member and slowly stroked.

“Like this.”

He showed me his preferred pace and moved his hand to my thigh. He ran his ragged nails down the inside of my leg, pushing my thigh out and setting himself between. Running his fingers back up, he toyed with a curl before sliding his finger between the moist folds, finding my sensitive nub and swirling around it. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Capt’n, I’m not… I’m… I’m a…”

“Was wondering when ye might see fit to be tellin’ me that.”

“Ye’ knew?”

“Aye. Ye’ sister and yerself, speak loudly.” Continuing his exploration of my most sensitive areas, “Now, do ye’ want this, or not?”

I exhaled a ragged breath, unable to say what I wanted, but instead pressed my lips once more to his. Having his answer, he slid his knowing fingers further back towards my depths. A strange sensation had taken hold. My body tight around his thick fingers, I awaited the pain I was sure would follow.

“Not yet, Missy.”

He slowly worked his two fingers in and out of my moist folds, each extension deepening the flood slowly pooling out of me. When I was sure my fluids would be seeping down my legs onto the sheets, he withdrew and brought his hand up, sliding those knowing fingers over my mouth, delighting in seeing them bathed by my tongue.

He reached behind my head and cradled with one hand while simultaneously reaching down between us with the other. He toyed with me for a moment, sliding his eager member across my nub, reveling in the liquid torment he brought forth from me.

Slowly, I felt him reach his target and then his girth push against my delicate opening. He stopped when he felt my body’s inner resistance. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked into my eyes, wanting to see the expression on my face when he tore that part of me asunder. He bucked his hips and a scream came forth from my mouth, followed by my burning tears. That was too much. There was no way it would all fit. How could it?

Another buck of his hips followed, and another. He worked up the pace and reached down, pushing my pelvis against his, making me meet each pump with my own. The pain started to subside and I began to understand the motion. Each movement of his body pushed the air from my lungs, and his animal grunts were echoed by my soft mewlings.

He grunted into my ear, “Put ye’ ankles round my waist.”

The change in depth shocked me, and that feeling of fire returned to the pit of my stomach. My hips met his with each thrust, and I began to feel the heat escaping each of my pores. My breathing became more ragged and irregular and the fire in my belly built to a crescendo. I felt in behind my navel first, a tightening, pouring down into my sex. Quakes, like ripples emanating from the center of me rolling down, washing over me and gripping a hold of him.

The point of no return…

I squeezed him to me, digging my nails into his shoulder, biting his flesh. And I screamed a low, gutteral scream. I was consumed by the moment when the Captain quickened, tightening his hold on my hips. He began to slam down on my with such force I swore I would be ripped in two. The only sounds in the room were my heartbeat in my ears and the rhythmic smack of his flesh on mine.

His head pushed into my shoulder, hard. He growled, low, a sound unlike any I have ever heard and with one final, unforgiving thrust his weight collapsed upon me. He was panting.

He rolled off me and situated himself in the bed. My head was swimming. ‘Selle and the girls charged for that? I moved to exit the bed but his meaty hand pulled me back towards him and held me by the middle tight. I curled up to his belly, my hand over his. The sound of his snoring soon permeated the room and I resigned myself over to sleep.


CHAPTER 5


The morning light filtered through the smudged glass of the lone window in the room. My eyes opened, and I turned my head only to be met with a slight dizziness. Yes, I had had far too much wine, but thankfully never lost my senses. I was well aware of the sleeping form of the pirate Captain pressing up against the small of my back. It had been an exciting night, and I had no room for regrets.

My stirring had awoken him and his hand slid up my body, the swell of his manhood resting amid the cleft of my bottom. I felt it stir. I felt his tongue slide along the passage from my ear to my shoulder. It sent a shiver through me, and I arched against him.

“Tempting the storm, Missy?”

“Capt’n…”

He was breathy in my ear, “Name’s Hector, Missy. If ye’ can wake in me arms, ye’ can call me by me given name.”

“’ector…”

He shushed me, and pulled my head around, roughly placing his mouth on mine. My cheeks stung with the reminder of his rough beard upon my soft flesh.

Running his left hand down my belly he once again found that sensitive part of me, my tender flesh welcoming his return. He cupped my breast with his right hand and I felt him press himself into my back.

He pulled away and aggressively grabbed my waist, “On your knees, then.”

I did as commanded and felt his hand pressing down on my shoulders, “Head down.”

Setting my legs astride him, he ran his nails crudely down my spine. It stung, and I know he drew blood. I then felt his mouth upon the scratch, kissing where he had just inflicted pain.

He pressed his prick towards my opening, and with much less fanfare than the previous night, slammed his way in. His hands were on my hips and he was pounding his way into me, mercilessly. Kneeling as I was, I was completely at his command.

“Hold the headboard.”

My movement was followed by another onslaught of fierce thrusts. My head bumped the wall, but a cuss slipped his mouth, drowning out the sound, followed by his weighty body enveloping mine. There would be no such release for myself.

The Captain rose, and appeared aggravated and I, wrapped in the sheet, stood and made for some clothing. I quickly threw on a shift and then went in search of something to drench my parched mouth.

I returned with a bottle of brandy to my lips and saw the Captain retuning his implements to the sash, once again clothed fully and looking as though he had other business on his mind. I offered him the bottle and he took a deep swig, handing it back to me.

Placing his hat on his head he winked at me, a smile on his lips. One hand on the doorknob, the other on my cheek, he leans in and gives me one last kiss. I followed him to the hallway. ‘Selle and several other girls peaked from Hester’s door as he passed, and when he was several stairs down, he turned and tipped his hat to me. I think it may have been more for their entertainment than my own…Without another word, he was gone.

Hearing the door slam behind him, I went to turn to my sister, but found that my leg muscles were protesting any further movement and I felt my knees slightly buckle. With a giggle the door to Hester’s room opened fully and the whores spilled out into the hall.

‘Selle spoke first, “Well?”

My hand slipped down to my cunny, which was remarkably sore, and I felt the urge to declare, “Bloody feels like it be fallin’ off, it does.”

Hester pushed her way to the front of the throng, “’ow much ‘e give ye’?”

My blank stare told them all they needed to know.


CHAPTER 6

I only saw Captain Barbossa once more after that fateful night, about seven months later. I was returning home somewhat after twilight after picking a few drunken pockets. The pistol the Captain had given me was jutting out of my belt, awkwardly. With my growing belly it was getting harder and harder to keep up the pace of what I did to survive, and I knew that sooner than later I would have to submit and follow in ‘Selle’s footsteps. At least I had kept one promise to myself.

When I entered the room a lone candle was lit. I know I didn’t leave that … And then, a whiff of the sea. He was here! I spun, searching the room and my sights landed on his form sitting in the armchair.

“’ector!”

I surged forward, happy to see him again, nervous about his reaction to my expanding waist…

“No, Isabella.”

“’ector, I don’t…”

Using his heels he pushed the chair further into the corner. The light of the beautiful full moon trickled down into the recessed corner, over his lap and for a moment, his hand. One glimpse of his hand… it looked almost… no, that had to be a trick of the light, or my own weariness of carrying the babe. But he quickly moved out of the beam.

“Isabella, this will be the last time I come to ye’.”

“I ‘aven’t done ye’ wrong… tis yers, I swear.”

My hand came up to my belly when I felt a quick kick. Would he be angry? Would he deny it?

In that quick moment he had exited the chair and I felt him, behind me. His arm stretched around me and he pulled me in, tightly. I went to turn to him, but he held me fast.

“Let me see ye’ eyes, please. Just a glimpse…”

His face nuzzled into my neck and his mouth was near my ear, “No, Isabella. Not like this. Remember me, as I was, girl. It cannot happen again, understand me.”

“Capt’n, I don’t understand. What ‘ave I done?”

He trailed a kiss down my neck, sending a familiar shiver through me, but something was different, something was…wrong. It was cold, unyielding. His once scorching kiss was now like… the lips of the dead.

“Remember. In the eyes of that babe, remember.”

He placed one last cold kiss upon my neck, “Remember me, girl.”

As quick as he had embraced me, he now was gone. The door to my room banging shut. When I entered the hall all was still. It was like he had never been there, save for one perfect, green apple he had left on my table.

I never saw him again. True, I heard stories. Ghost ships shrouded in fog…ancient curses, but such is the nature of the tales that come from the sea. Nothing is ever as it appears. Everything is made grander in darkness than what it truly is by daylight.

He probably fell in some squall, in battle taking a ship, or maybe met a long drop and a sudden stop, his body hanging as a warning in some inlet. I would never know what befell him. Maybe that was best for myself, and my daughter. Our daughter.


Another cough rattles my body, much more intense than the last. I feel stinging stars behind my eyes as I gasp. In my hurry to place the cloth upon my lips, I knock the apple Maria had brought from my lap. I reach forward to grab it but I become dizzy. I hear it bounce along the floor… and I hear her, too, from somewhere that seems so far away, “Gran’mother? Gran’mother?”

And as that infinite, merciless darkness embraces me, envelopes me, I swear… I can smell the sea… and I hear… I can hear… “Remember me, girl.”


FIN