A Deal Struck
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She vaguely remembered hearing their boots coming down the steps as the ship swayed back and forth in the water. As the door opened, her eyes suddenly stung from the bright sun light now burning across her face. She remembers a silhouette then blackness as suddenly as the light that stung. The man that now cast the shadow across her limp body, hanging from leather strapped wrists quickly barked, “Cut her down.” He had, upon seeing her eyes known that it was her and no price would be too much to reunite him with his soul mate.
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The man, then tossed a heavy leather pouch of the finest Spanish gold to the rogue Captain, as he said, “She's mine”. As one of the ships crew cut her down, the grungy red head slide to the deck, dirty and smudged with dirt and filth from weeks of confinement.
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When her new owner picked her up in his arms, arms that looked like tree limbs, she only made the slightest whimper. Burning up with fever, she wilted into his arms. angry, now that he realized how she had been neglected, he stormed out of the cabin with her. Quickly his longboat had rowed him and her back to his ship anchored in the port's harbor nearby.
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Once aboard, he carried her to his quarters. She smelled as horrid as any of his own crew. Laying her on his bunk, he ordered one of his crew to bring some hot water and soap.She was dressed only in white cotton pantaloons and what was left of a white cotton chemise. Roughly he cut these from her body, throwing them in a pile to be burned. Out of his jacket now and rolling his sleeves up, he prepared to clean her up. Aware that his men were still there gawking, he ordered them to leave, cursing them for still being in his quarters. Still hot with a fever and poor from very little food, she simply laid there, unconscious and still.
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Though dirty, he couldn't help but look at her naked beauty as she lay before him. He didn't know quite where to begin, it was not like he had ever done this before. He trembled as he took the cloth and started to wash the filth away. Her tiny foot fit completely in the palm of his hand. He quickly bathed her as though she was some way-ward half grown dog; she was clean, but still feverish and unconscious. The man covered her with blankets, gathered the items and left, locking the door behind him as he left.
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Returning to his cabin after supper the man quietly peeped in, then walked in. No, she wasn't awake yet. By the light of his lamp, he muddled around a bit, then undressed and carefully slipped into his bunk with her. That night many things were taken and many things happened. As such things often are, they will remain unwritten and therefore unspoken, but they did happen none the less.
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Yet to wake still, the man leaves her at sunrise to take care of the ships business. By lunch he's back, with proper lady's cloths for her. Several dresses, one, a beautiful emerald green dress, new under things, stockings, and shoes. The man carefully lays the clothes down, leaves some food and wine, then departs again for his afternoon appointments in port.
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Barely able to open her eyes, they seem heavy, under some power other than her own. Gradually, she manages to fully open them and sit up. Where the hell was she? She remembers naught, just the shadow between her and the sun before she collapsed. Pulling the covers up to her breast, she surveys her new surroundings. Sitting on a huge bunk, she realizes she's in the cabin of a ship. It's dark, musky with the smell of a slight sweetness in the air. Confused and frightened she gets up. Hesitate at first, she spys the food and without further thought to the other circumstances, she greedily devours all the food and 2 glasses of wine. Slightly nauseous now, from having eaten so much, so fast, her thoughts race. She was naked, but she found the cloths he’d left and hurried to dress herself.
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Feeling less vulnerable with clothes on, she explored the cabin, finding the belongings of a man. His clothes with the smell of him still lingering, his liquor, his tools of trade and other various trinkets. Who is this creature, this man, that has brought her here, brought her clothes and food?
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A rush of heat moves through her, burning her from the inside out. She was more than angry, she was as mad as hell, at the same time saddened. Memories of her departure from France, leaving boarding school, being chaperoned back to her fathers plantation in the islands by her brother, all that comes whirling back to her mind. Tears well in her eyes, her brother, now dead because of the pirates that boarded, looted and murdered as they went. Only the women were spared, held as captives, then taken away at random, or so it seemed. She wasn't sure, sure of anything, except the cold burn she felt lodged in her chest as madness and grief. She screamed and screamed and screamed. She began to throw whatever she touched, the dishes from lunch, the contents of a table and a shelf, simply whatever was in her reach was hurled at a wall or window. Having gotten the attention or every man and creature in ear shot, she stoppedwhen she saw the door crack open.
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In a moment that lasts for what seems like hours, their eyes meet, she can now see the man that has her here on this boat and locked in this room. His figure over fills the door, his eyes attempt a smile, but are more riddled with more fear than he would ever admit. Mesmerized at the depth and sad emptiness, she feels as though she already knows this man. Confused with herself, she grabs the first thing she can, a dinner knife and brazenly holds it out in front of this giant of a man now before her. Cursing him first in French, then English, and then back to French, her eyes wide open, her nostrils flared, her pouty lips pursed tight, her flaming auburn red hair loose down her back, her chest heaving in anger, she lunges at him. Startled by her quick boldness and amused in the same moment, he steps back toward the door as he begins to speak very low and quietly to her. He latches the door, just as she lunges at him again. This time her grabs her wrist. careful to avoid the sharpness of the knife, he pulls her to him, wrapping his huge arms completely around her.
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She screams, tries to bite, to spit, to kick, anything that she can, but to no avail. He has her wrapped in his powerful arms and she’s unable to break free. He doesn’t squeez her though, he just holds on to her as she tires of struggling, he whispers to her, “It's alright, it's alright, I won't hurt you” over and over until her curses have turned to tears and whimpers. He holds her cheek now, gently looking into her soul, tears fill his eyes. “Doesn't she know who I am?” he thought, as his gaze met by her and she slowly relaxed.
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Moments turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, hours into days, days into weeks and she was eventually gentled to his touch or perhaps him to her, at any rate, she stayed with him. Although, in the early days she did attempt to run, more than once. She realized eventually that trying to escape only got her months of being tethered to him at night and under lock and key during the day. Gradually, she surrendered herself to him. later he took her into port with him and allowed her most of her freedom. She grew to love him, remembered their connection and never questioned it. Almost never, only once did she ever waiver.
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While in port for the evening to feast with his friends, a very good friend, a young sailor that knew her master very well, met her eyes and held the glance too long to be proper. She turned away, but inside her heart, he stirred something that made her tremble. Perhaps it was, the way he looked at her, what his eyes said that his voice never could, but she knew it and understood it. She never told the young man of the feelings that moved inside her heart that night. She wished she had told him. Given the chance to tell him, she would have make sure that he knew she loved him. Just for him to know that he was loved would have been enough. The young man, well, he saw something in her eyes, something he had never seen before. Something that was given to him freely, just for the sake of sharing. What he saw was love, innocent and real. He went so far as to secure a lock of her hair from the woman that trimmed it. It was a little bit of her, he reasoned and what was wrong with that. He carried it with him always, in an embroidered handkerchief that was hers, one he had borrowed one evening, to cover a cut that seemed mysteriously to have appeared.
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The pirate and the lady left port shortly thereafter, never to return again. Their ship was boarded by rogue pirates. Her lover, there was a big battle and her protector was killed right in front of her eyes. As the rogues came towards her, she felt her soul leave her body as her love bled out before her. She would never let another man take her flesh nor tarnish her for the man she loved with all her heart and soul. In her emerald green dress, with her long auburn red hair blowing in the breeze, she smiled and she jumped. Jumped into the sea, jumped to her death.
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Several months pasted before the young man heard of his friends and the lady's fate. He was angry, he’d begged his friend not to take her this time. He’d told him that their planned route was dangerous now, rife with cut throats and rogues. Perhaps if he had attempted to tell her of his love, who knows, but he couldn't have done that to his friend or put her in such a compromising position. It didn't matter, she was dead now.
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Because he gave up and blamed himself, the young sailor numbed himself with rum and women. He knew there was nothing that he could have done to save her, she knew the dangers and was just following her fate.
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To this day the sailors say that she’d became a mermaid and now is spending eternity looking after sailors who have lost their way. Loving them, comforting them, she offers them hope. No one knows for sure, perhaps that love she carried for these men inside her soul still exists. I believe love does not die, with the changing of our outer garments, but lives on in the memories of our heart, nestled quietly in the depths of our soul.
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The End…
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