His eyebrow quirked. “Do not be stubborn.”
“I’m not.”
“Then you’ll let me tend to your wound without whining,” he insisted as his long, muscled arms pumped the oars and we rowed out to the invisible curtain that cloaked his ship.
I had no reply. I just sat and chewed at my bottom lip as I stared at the crystal blue ocean next to the boat. I felt bad letting Benjamin help me in any way. I was gaining his trust only to betray it at even the slightest chance of escape. I couldn’t let myself get attached. That was the only solution. Don’t get too friendly. Gain their trust, but don’t give yours.
Chapter Eight
We crossed over into the invisible space that surrounded the ship and, even though I’d seen it before, the beast still took my breath away. It was both terrifying and beautiful, like the embodiment of death wrapped up in the form of a ship. I stared in awe as we neared the side where the rope ladder still hung. I grabbed hold and pulled myself up while Benjamin climbed a few feet below.
When I finally clambered over the railing, I saw that we had an audience waiting. The captain, Pleeman, and the two deckhands stood around, anxious and eager. Hovering. It made me uncomfortable.
“I see you were successful on your foraging trip,” the captain spoke as he eyes the sack that hung over Benjamin’s shoulder.
“Uh, yeah,” I replied. “If you could show me where the kitchen is, I can get started on supper.”
“I’d be happy to escort ya, Miss,” Pleeman piped in.
But the captain stepped forward. “No need, Mr. Hynes,” Captain Cook insisted and held out his hand for me to take. “I’ll show the lady around after I speak with her in my quarters.”
My breathing suddenly quickened. The man was bound and determined to get me alone, wasn’t he? But, thankfully, before I could form a response, Benjamin saved me.
“Actually,” he said firmly and stepped in front of me. “Dianna has a wound I’d like to tend before she does anything at all.”
“Is that so?” the captain inquired. But it was almost as if he were challenging his brother in some way. The disbelieving tone in his voice, the curious raise on an eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Deep, too,” I replied, remembering what Benjamin had said about it. I then held my hand up, palm out, so they could see. Captain Cook stepped closer and took it in his cold hands, examining it with an unnerving admiration. The blood had dried in messy wipes across the skin, while fresh blood still oozed from the opening. I’d had worse. It never bothered me. But I knew then, with a quick sideways glance at Benjamin’s worried face, I had to pretend as if it did. I faked a wince and pulled away, holding it close to my chest.
The captain snapped from his daze and looked between Benjamin and I. “Yes, of course. Tend to Dianna’s wound and then show her where the kitchen is. Everyone else, get back to work. This deck needs swabbin’.” He turned a cockeyed expression to me and licked his already wet lips. “I very much look forward to the delicious meal you’ll provide.”
I tried to hide my distaste for the man. It was hard. He disgusted and unnerved me to no end. I couldn’t quite put my finger on just what it was that turned my insides. Apparently, he was once a good man but definitely lost his marbles now. And the fact that Benjamin seemed to share my discomfort around his brother just solidified my gut feeling to steer clear.
“Come on,” Benjamin spoke to me while eying the captain.
I followed him across the deck to the bottom level of the double high stern and entered a dark room. I stood by the closed door while he strolled over to the window and ripped open the thick, blue velvet curtains. The sun blared in, casting the room in a warm glow. I glanced around and noted the placement of furniture; a small hand-carved table to my right, a messy bed under the window, a massive pile of books on the floor next to it. This was Benjamin’s quarters.
“Sit on the bed,” he ordered, and then fished around in a wooden cabinet in the corner.
I shrugged off my heavy jacket and did as I was told, silently, taking in everything. I found myself shut in the bedroom of my captor, a tall and rather handsome pirate. But it was the safest I’d felt since being pulled aboard The Black Soul. I sat on the edge of his bed and watched as he stomped over and plunked down next to me. The straw mattress jostled and bent under his weight, pulling me into the dip he created.
“What’s this?” he suddenly asked, noting the jagged scar that stuck out from underneath my missing sleeve. I froze as his fingertips poked under the frayed shoulder of my blouse. “Good Lord, how did you get this?”
I shrugged, trying not to give into the cold fear that came rushing back with the memory of that horrible night. “Sword fight.”
Benjamin’s eyes widened. “Sword fight? You can use a blade?”
Offended, I inched away and pulled at the fabric, trying to hide the bumpy skin. “There’s plenty you don’t know about me.”
“Indeed.”
The pirate scanned my face and a strange, awkward silence hung in the short distance between us. I couldn’t tell his next move. Benjamin was a hard man to read. Not as hard as Henry, and not in the same way. His size was intimidating, and his short fuse alarming. But there seemed to be a softer side of the beastly pirate. A side I apparently brought out. Suddenly, he turned swiftly, leaning over the foot of his bed to fetch something from the floor. He sat upright and tossed it in my lap. A white cotton shirt.
“There, put that on,” he told me. “It may be a bit big, but it’s somewhat clean and has both sleeves.”
“Thanks,” I said and smiled.
He sat and waited. Staring.
“Can you not look, please?” I finally asked when he didn’t get the hint.
Benjamin rolled his eyes but respected my demand and spun around so his back faced me. As quickly as possible, I removed my old, torn, and heavily soiled shirt and replaced it with his. He was right. The thing draped off me. I may as well have wrapped a curtain around my body. But I rolled up the sleeves and tied the bottom in a knot at the back. It would do just fine.
“Okay, you can turn around.”
The man inspected the shirt proudly. “Well, that looks better than I thought it would.” He leaned over and grabbed a wet cloth from a small basin of water on the floor. “Alright, give me that hand of yours,” the pirate demanded. I placed mine in his, palm up, and watched patiently as he took care in wiping the dried blood and dirt from the skin. “How did you ever manage to inflict such a wound without noticing?”
I shrugged. “Guess I’m tougher than I look.”
His deep brown eyes flicked to mine and held my gaze before the corner of his mouth turned up in a half grin. “I’ll say this much, you’re tougher than most women I’ve met.” He began to wrap a somewhat clean cloth around my hand, securing it tightly, but not covering my fingers. I’d still be able to find my way around the kitchen.
“That’s not saying much,” I joked. “Women have changed a little since you left the world behind.”
Benjamin’s grin faded, and his shoulders heaved. But he still held my hand. “How much time has passed?”
I chewed at my lip. “Are you sure you want to know?”
He sucked in a deep breath. “Yes. I tried to keep track at first. But the years have melded together.”
“It’s the year 1707. Late November,” I told the man. His eyes widened and glossed over. “A lot has happened. The world is a different place.”
“My God,” he whispered and released my hand as he stared off into nothingness. “Nearly a hundred years.” He leaned forward and began to laugh, a sad and lonely sound. “A hundred damn years stuck on this wretched boat with my brother.”
“Is that so bad?”
“I can’t imagine a worse fate,” he told me with a stern sincerity. “My brother is not the man he used to be. He’s hardly a man at all.”
“It’s not fair that the rest of you have to pay for what he did,” I said. “It should have been
him, and him alone.”
We sat in silence for a few moments before Benjamin replied, “Yes, well, at least I have you to keep me company now.”
I didn’t know what to say. His words came from a sincere place, but it made the reality of my fate sink in deeper. If I didn’t find a way off the island, I’d be stuck there on The Black Soul for the rest of my life. It’d been days since I washed ashore. Days of not knowing what happened to my crew, and to Henry. My eyes swelled with tears as I finally admitted one possible fate. I hadn’t wanted to consider it, convinced myself that he was strong enough to survive the storm. That they all were. But I never found a single piece of debris on the beach, or a sign of life out on the water.
“What’s the matter?” Benjamin asked, snapping me out of my miserable haze of worry.
His large, warm hand cupped my face as his thumb wiped at the tears. I should have pulled away. I should have told him to keep his hands to himself. But, in that moment, I was weak. I wanted to be comforted. And, even though it meant more to him than me, I let him. I leaned into his hand and closed my eyes, squeezing out the tears that begged to be released.
“It’s just…” I could barely control the tremble in my voice. “It’s a lot. You know? I’m here. I have no idea what happened to my crew, to my friends. My…” I glanced down at my belly and covered it with both hands.
“Was the father on the ship?”
I nodded as more tears flowed. “His name is Henry.”
I somehow lived through losing Henry once. I didn’t have it in me to survive it again. I had to believe that he was alive. That he was out there somewhere, looking for me. He’d search to the ends of the Earth for me. My beloved pirate king would find a way. A sudden rush of shame coursed over my body and I stood abruptly, breaking the intimate hold that Benjamin held on my face.
“I, um, I should get to the kitchen.” I wiped at my wet cheeks. “I’ve got a lot to do.”
He rose to his feet, awkwardly. “Yes, of course. I’ll show you the way.”
“No, that’s alright,” I quickly replied. “I’m sure I can find it.”
Benjamin failed to hide the guilt on his face. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
I nodded slowly, lips pursed. “Oh, I see. Very well, then.” I moved aside to let him lead. And it was in that moment that I knew for sure that it didn’t matter how friendly I got with the crew. Above all, I was a prisoner aboard the ship.
Forever.
Chapter Nine
Iworked idly to prepare supper, my mind far off in a distant place. A place where Henry and I existed together. As I washed and scrubbed the thick white roots I gathered, I dreamed of being in his arms again. His sweet, tortured face softening at the sight of me. Warm pink lips under the blonde scruff of his jagged jawline. Black eyes staring lovingly into mine. Every fiber of my being ached to be with him and it was all I could to hold back the rush of emotion that tried to force tears.
“Would you like me to do that?” Pleeman spoke as he suddenly appeared by my side. “Or do you intend to rub them down to nothing?”
Snapping out of my daydream, I turned to the old man and smiled. “Sorry, I was just…”
“Thinking about being anywhere but here?” His old, wrinkled hands took the roots from mine. “I’ll finish cleaning these. You get started on the rest.”
“Are you sure?” I asked him.
“Yes, of course! I’m eager to watch and learn. Be nice to cook something other than plain, ol’ fried fish.”
I grabbed a sack of open flour from the floor and lifted it to the worn wooden tabletop. I was surprised by what they had; flour, sugar, and even a small collection of vegetables. They were half rotten, but I managed to dig out a few I could use. The old chef had told me earlier that they got their supplies from shipwrecks and things that washed ashore. “Pleeman, how do you not know how to make anything?”
He laughed. A strained old man’s chuckle. “I wasn’t always a cook. I was once a mere deckhand. Many years ago.”
“So, how did you become the cook, then?”
He brought the washed ingredients over to the table top I worked at. His aging eyes peered up at me. “One must do whatever it takes to survive on a ship such as this one.”
It was my turn to laugh then. “I once did the exact same thing. I was taken prisoner aboard a ship. The cook turned out to be a murderer out for the captain’s blood, so I took the opportunity to gain their trust with my skills.” Then a thought occurred to me. “Pleeman, what possessed you to become part of a pirate crew at your age?”
“Oh, Dearie, I wasn’t this old when I first washed ashore,” he told me.
My eyes bulged. “Wait, you mean–”
“Oh, yes. I do not belong to The Black Soul,” he affirmed. “I was a young man, first time at sea. I’d swindled my way onto the crew of a new ship. A merchant vessel sailing for the South. We hit a storm. The ship was destroyed, and we washed up on the beach here. But I was the only one alive. That’s when Benjamin found me.”
My heart pulsed hard against the inside of my chest. He aged. Even though he became part of the curse, he wasn’t bound by the way time stood still for the original crew. Which meant… I would age, too. And die. I didn’t know whether to be upset by the news or comforted in knowing it would all be over one day.
“And you told them you were a cook?”
The old man turned and shrugged. “Of sorts.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“When I learned what they had planned for me, I told them I was a butcher and that I’d help them if they spared my life.”
I was lost in a sea of confusion. “Helped them with what?”
He leaned across the table and patted my hand. “The very thing I’d hope to spare you from.”
My mind jumped from word to word, going over the vague things he said. Cook. Butcher. Bodies on the shore. I glanced up and saw the kitchen in a different light. The giant cleavers, the assortment of knives that hung from the walls. Wooden chopping blocks stained with colors of rust. My stomach turned over and I couldn’t stomp down the rising sensation of my insides. My eyes scanned the floor and found a large wooden pail.
I darted for it and heaved into it until my stomach was empty. Even then, I still felt sick. They ate people. Poor souls washed ashore in storms. Benjamin scooped them from the sand and Pleeman chopped them up. Suddenly, a lifetime trapped on The Black Soul seemed so much worse than it already was.
Pleeman shuffled across to where I hunched over the pail and rubbed my back. “There, there. I know, it’s a lot to take in.”
I stood and wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve. “Are they–” I struggled to say the words. “Will they eat me? Will you…”
The old-timer shook his head. “No, I do not. And, thankfully, the captain has other plans for you.” He frowned. “For now, anyway. A woman, you see, has never washed up on our tiny island.”
“How is that any better?” I cried.
He shushed me and looked to the swinging kitchen door with panic. “Be careful. The captain is unhinged. He’s easily provoked and doesn’t like to be reminded of his fate. You must pretend as though everything is normal.”
“Pleeman!” I whispered through another cry, my eyes filling with tears. I glanced down at my growing belly. “What about my baby?”
He frowned. “I’m afraid there are only two outcomes for your child, and it all depends on what comes out of you. If you’re lucky enough to be graced with a girl, she’ll be safe. They’ll want to keep her around.” The old man sighed then and shook his bowed head. “But if you give birth to a boy…”
A cold shiver slid down my spine and my limbs went numb. “No. I have to get off this ship. Off the island. I’ll paddle the damn rowboat to England if I have to.”
He held both my arms and continued to shush me. “Dianna, dear. That’s not possible. You know it as well as I do. You’d never make it.” When I finally calmed and looked at his
face, he added, “If there were a way off the island, don’t you think I would have found it after sixty years?”
I shrugged helplessly, mouth gaping. “W-what am I supposed to do, then? Become the ship’s whore?”
He didn’t seem to have the right words and let go of my arms before turning back to the table where we prepared supper. “For now, the best you can do is get through the day.”
That wasn’t good enough. I refused to bend. I couldn’t accept it, and I’d be damned if I’d let the same fate fall upon my child. There was only one option.
I had to kill everyone on board The Black Soul.
***
The small crew of five sat around a long wooden table on the mess deck, just outside the swinging doors of the kitchen. I could hear them commenting on the delicious smells as they became rowdy with waiting. I stood on the other side of the door, clutching the handles of a large tray, willing myself to go out there and put on a show. I planned to play nice, to come across as harmless and lower suspicions.
Hopefully, I’d one day get my own sleeping quarters. One that wasn’t a locked cage. And I’d sneak out in the middle of the night to slit their throats. I went over the plan a dozen times in my head while I finished making supper. I contemplated ways I could get Pleeman on board. It wouldn’t be hard. He’d made it pretty clear that he wanted off the ship just as much as me. My only hurdle would be Benjamin. He hardly left my side and knew me better than the rest. He’d see right through my rouse.
Just then, the kitchen door swung open. I looked to find Benjamin leaning against the frame. “Are you comin’, sweetness? We’re starvin’.”
I wanted to slap on my fake smile but failed immediately. I couldn’t hide the anger I felt at the sight of him, shrouded in the darkness of what I knew. Did he originally intend to bring me back to the ship to be eaten? How many poor souls had he dragged back to meet the Pleeman’s cleaver? What thin friendship had formed between the pirate and I vanished, and I was left with a deep loathing for the lot of them.
The Blackened Soul Page 9