“Rescue?” the man chortled. “Oh, dearie, you were notrescued. You’re lucky to even be alive. If it were the captainwho’d found ya out on the water, wearing that jacket and havin’that hair.”
“Why?Because I look like Maria Cobham?” I shouted.
The old mandropped his mop and came to the bars. “Shhh, you’re alive now,don’t ruin it for yourself by sayin’ that name around here.”
Up close, Icould see the hard shape he was in, the dim candlelighthighlighting his features. Dry, wrinkled skin, dirty and gnarledfingernails, missing teeth. The ones that remained were yellowedand the gaps filled with plaque. He wore strange garments, too.Soiled and worn, but I could easily see the old-fashioned cottontrousers and what was once a white men’s blouse underneath a longapron. It was like I’d woken up in the past.
Where the Hellwas I?
“Alfred!” bellowed a familiar voice. The old man’s eyes litwith panic. “’Tis nearly noon and I dinnae smell food bein’ made.Why aren’t ye in the kitchen?” The Scottish man who’d scooped meout of the sea, Finn, came stomping over to Alfred’sside.
“Aye,Sir,” Alfred replied. “I was just getting to it. I had to finish upthe deck. Swabbed it clean, I did.”
Finn glanceddown at the murky water that skimmed the surface of the floor. “Yedid a fine job,” he said with all seriousness. “But the boys ishungry. And the captain will be sniffin’ around soon. So, get toit.”
Alfred noddedand scurried away, leaving his mop and bucket behind. Finn thenapproached the bars of my cell, his grin showing off teeth thatwere only slightly better than Alfred’s. He’d actually be somewhathandsome if he’d cleaned himself up a bit. Greasy red curls hungdown from a black bandana and pooled around his shoulders. Greeneyes sparkled as they stared at me, and his face, under the dirtysmudges and wiry red beard, had a cherub-like appearance.
“Whatare ye doin’ talkin’ to our cook?” he asked me.
“I-I wasjust trying to get some help. I don’t understand why I’ve beenlocked up. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Aye,”he said with a nod and rocked back on the heels of big, brownleather boots, “But yer surely in cahoots with Maria. Look atye.”
I glanced downat the red coat I wore. “What does a jacket have to do withanything? I found this. It doesn’t even belong to me.”
He unsheatheda large dagger from his side and pointed at me. “So, ye stole it,then? Yer a dirty thief?”
My eyeswidened in panic. I needed these unstable people to believe I was agood person. “No, no, I swear. I found the chest, and the jacketwas inside. I put it on and was then swept out to sea. That’s whenyou found me. I promise. I’m just–” I paused to think, amusing mydelusions, “I’m merely a baker’s daughter. I honestly only foundthe old chest and the things inside it. I’m just lost and wouldonly like to be escorted back home, please.”
“Well,that’s a very convincin’ story, lass,” Finn replied. “But it’s naeup to me what happens to ye.”
“Well,who do I speak to, then?”
He chuckled.“That would be the captain.”
“Okay,well, bring me to your captain.”
“Nay,”he said. “It dinnaework like that. The captain will decide when he wishes tospeak with ye, if he even does at all. Ye may find yourself at thebottom of a watery grave before the day is out, lass.” Finn turnedon his heel then and began walking away.
I yanked onthe metal bars. “What? Why? I’ve done nothing!”
“Weshall see ‘bout that!” he yelled over his shoulder before climbingup the short ladder to the deck above.
Iretreated into my cell as far as I could, in search of a glimmer ofsafety. Where could I possibly be? Who were these men and why didthey seem so… out of place? Why did they lock me up instead ofgetting some help? I crouched down in a dark, musty corner and feltsomething dig into my thigh. I reached inside my jean’s pocket andpulled out the snow globe key chain. I could use the key as a weapon, I thought, asmemories of the one self-defense class I’d taken came tomind.
I opened myjacket to put the key somewhere I could reach it better andrealized I’d slipped Henry’s journal inside it before all of thishappened. The paper had been soaked by the ocean’s water, but theinked script barely bled. So, I handled each page with gentle care,stealing glances out through the bars of my cage to make sure I wasalone, and searched for the next entry, to find out what became ofyoung Henry.
August 14th,1698
I have come to accept my fate aboard The Burning Ghost. Mariawill never let me go. I had intended for my last entry to be justthat, my last. That night, I had snuck out of Maria’s bed onceagain, the evidence of our disgusting affair still fresh on mybody. I planned to stand on the bowsprit and take my own life,so my body could fall to the sea below. Where Ibelonged.
But, alas, oneof the ship hands found me and brought me to her. To say she wasangry would be an understatement. My skin still breaks open fromwounds she inflicted that bloody evening. Her husband Eric stillstands by, idly, without care, or notice.
But her reignof terror over my mind and body did not end there. No, Maria hasmoved on to other forms of torture. Since that dreadful night, shehas been determined to bring me together with the devil. She callshim Devil Eyes and insists I embrace him.
I tried, Itruly did, to keep a hold on my humanity. To not forget who I am…or was. But Devil Eyes is a pirate whose evil seeps into your soul.I can feel him in my veins, swaying my mind and influencing mychoices. She forces me to spend far too much time with him.
Now, Maria hastaken it upon herself to bring me along on longer, more brutal,raids. Devil Eyes has forced me to take seven lives and each onechip away at my soul. Soon there shall be nothing