by Hays, Lara
Still huddled on the small bed, I asked “Where to?”
“To the brig,” the other replied.
My breathing grew shallow, “No, no, I can’t! Why?”
“You’ve been charged with a crime, miss. You must wait there fer yer trial.”
“Please, no,” I begged. The very thought of the brig made my stomach lurch. Images from Wrack’s assault flashed in my memory. I shut my eyes against them, but it was no use. I could see his sneering face. I could feel his wet tongue sliding up my cheek. I could smell the stench of his breath and the nauseating scent of fresh blood. “Anywhere else,” I pleaded, my eyes still shut.
“Cap’n’s orders, ma’am,” the first pirate said. He stepped forcefully into the room.
I was out of options. I would rather go willingly than be manhandled by these loathsome men.
“I see. I’ll do what is necessary,” I bargained, “but I need to wait for Mr. Holladay to return first.”
The man in the room took a step closer to me. “We have our orders, miss.”
There was an apologetic note in his voice, and I sensed he’d rather not force me to follow his orders.
I slowly pushed my covers off, then cinched the tie around my robe a bit tighter. I placed one bare foot on the floor at a time, wanting to delay this as long as possible in hopes that Nicholas would return. I smoothed my hands over my mussed hair, taking my time to rake out the tangles with my fingers, though my hair was impossibly matted with dried blood. Finally, I stood.
The men escorted me down the hallway without touching me, for which I was thankful. We crossed the ship’s waist in an odd procession. A few sailors were scattered about the deck and the rigging and stared at me unabashedly. I was surprised that more weren’t out to see what was happening. Perhaps they were…caring for the body. I looked for Nicholas, wishing he would notice what was happening and put a stop to it, but I could not find him.
The men led me down the ladder, deep inside the ship.
The brig had not been touched since the night of Wrack’s attack. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw the jagged bits of the broken jug, the spent candle, and even the book I had been reading, the pages brown with dried blood. I halted, faltering in my resolve to play nicely. The two men looked at me, ready to pursue if I fled.
“I can’t go back in there,” I begged.
“Just for a bit, miss,” the man closest to me said. “It will only be a little while.”
The other pirate—the one with the keys—went forward to the swinging gate that served as the door to the prison. He examined the lock. “Marks shot it to bits. It ain’t gonna hold.” He slammed the door to the frame several times, each time it failed to catch and swung back out. I hoped this meant I could not be held here.
“The cap’n’ll have somethin’,” the other pirate said. He reached to take my arm in his burly grasp. I couldn’t help but recoil. “C’mon,” he ordered sternly.
I forced myself to walk forward into the cage, horrible images racing through my mind. The pirate with the keys ascended the ladder while the other man closed the door behind me, holding it in place. The sound of the metal door clanking shut reverberated in the expansive room. I shut my eyes fiercely, trying to imagine a prettier scene, but I could only see a jeering Wrack prowling around the perimeter of the brig, striking the key against the bars.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I inhaled deeply, trying to calm the swelling panic in my breast. Lingering smells of rum and blood met my nose and I stifled a gag.
The man standing guard fidgeted uncomfortably. He must have believed me guilty. He was afraid that I would put some kind of fever curse on him, too. The absurdity of the situation angered me. I was tempted to chant some mumbo jumbo just to scare him away. I was sure it would work, but then what? I was on a ship with limited space. One-hundred pirates against me. Well, against Nicholas and me. Still, there would be nowhere to run and I couldn’t afford to make things worse.
We waited in silence. The other man returned with a mass of chain and a padlock the size of my hand. Without a word passing between the two men, they wrapped the length of the chain around the gate and the door frame, sealing it with the padlock, and hurried out of the hold.
Afraid to move a single inch, I simply stood still like a lost child.
Maybe I truly was meant to die. I should have drowned in the hurricane with my father or at least been scorched to death by the tropical sun as I drifted unconsciously in the jollyboat. I should have died at the hands of these pirates, whether during the attack on the other ship or when I was trapped in here with Wrack. It would happen now. I would be tried for a nonexistent crime and punished however the captain saw fit. I was terrified, but wished desperately for all this to be over. But more than that, I wished to see Nicholas. I needed him.
My wish was granted shortly. I recognized the sound of his steps as he came down the ladder. A sense of calm washed over me. He would let me out of here, straighten out this entire mess.
He was not alone, to my dismay. He was accompanied by the two pirates who had escorted me down not long before. They lingered near the staircase, talking in whispers.
As Nicholas walked closer to me, I rushed to brig’s door, reaching out through the bars. My embrace was unmet. He stayed several paces back, his demeanor formal and stiff. The calm I had felt just seconds before disintegrated.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I responded slowly pulling my arms back into the brig. “Can you let me out?”
“You’ll have to stay down here.”
“How long?”
Nicholas looked away. “About six hours.”
It felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. “Nicholas, what is happening?”
His stoic face relaxed briefly. “It’s sheer madness. The men are afraid. I think they were surprised by the damage you did to Wrack. They think you’re trouble.”
“The damage I did to Wrack? What of the damage he did to me?” I questioned angrily.
“They’re pirates. Do you think they care?”
I turned away, hiding my tears.
“I don’t agree with them,” he added hastily. “Wrack deserved every bruise you gave him. He deserved far more. I am honestly sorry that he died. Believe me when I say I had something far worse planned for him.”
I looked back at Nicholas. “Will there really be a trial?”
He nodded curtly.
“But you’re the quartermaster. Aren’t you responsible for punishment? Don’t you have a say in this?”
“I break up quarrels and oversee duels. Minor infractions. I wish I had more sway with a full-on trial, but I don’t.”
I swallowed hard, my last bit of hope fading. “What will happen at the trial?”
He shifted his weight slightly. “You’ll answer their questions.”
Why was Nicholas being so vague? I needed to know what I would face. “What if they find me…guilty?”
Nicholas’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flared. The thought was just as worrisome to him. “They can’t. There’s not enough to go off.”
“But what if they do?”
“It won’t happen,” he said and as I started to contest this answer he cut me off and continued angrily, “But if it did happen, the captain can order whatever punishment he sees fit.”
My imagination flooded with visions of possible punishments. “What do you mean? What are you keeping from me?”
“I cannot say what he intends. But it is not good. I have rarely seen him in such a mood and it’s like he’s mad.” He put one hand on his hip and the other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. I could see the muscles of his jaw ripple as he tensed. “And I don’t know if it is best to play along, to give the captain his way. That may be all he wants. It may be that he is proving his authority since some of that was taken away with you. Although he claimed you, no one cared—including me. Maybe I made this worse
, trying to protect you. No,” he corrected himself immediately. “Things would have been worse if you were left to the devices of Black. I am convinced that this is a show of authority. The crew has been volatile, disobedient. He will make this into an example, but I doubt it will result in an extreme punishment for you. It has nothing to do with you.”
“But if he’s making an example, proving his authority, won’t he need to follow through with a harsh punishment?”
Nicholas dropped his arms to his sides, looking at me intensely. “I swear to you now, Tessa, I won’t let any harm come to you,” The sternness in his voice made me shiver. I believed every word.
His posture relaxed and he stepped a bit closer towards me, but not nearly close enough. Lowering his voice, he said, “Look, I hate to leave you down here, but I need to take care of business upstairs.”
I closed my eyes against the pressing tears and nodded.
“Things will turn out fine. Try not to worry.”
Nicholas left and the two pirates followed him. They left the hatch above the ladder open, affording me a bit of light.
I noticed the crate was still within reach and went immediately over to it. I felt very vulnerable in the black dressing gown and I wanted to dress fully. My clean undergarments were still knotted around the brig’s bars. I untied them and put them on. I pulled the blue silk gown into the brig and dressed hurriedly, worried that someone might come down any moment.
I brushed my hair, combing out the dried blood and rum. Once it was hanging in sleek ripples, I pulled it off my shoulders into a low ponytail at the nape of my neck, securing it with the black satin sash from the yellow ball gown. Several rebellious tendrils framed my face.
I was lacking a corset, a petticoat, stockings, and shoes, but I felt more complete than I had in a long while.
The hours crept by. I listened for the bells on deck proclaiming the time. Precisely when the first bell of the first dog watch rang, three men descended the broad ladder. I stood nervously, anxious to be out of the brig, yet terrified of what waited for me on deck.
Two pirates I had never seen before led the captain down the ladder towards the brig. With his flowing black robes and ghostly pallor, I was convinced that the captain was Death himself, coming for me at last. As one pirate opened the lock and removed the chains from the brig, the captain stated formally, “Miss Tessa Monroe, your trial for the killing of Thomas Wrack has now commenced.”
Without being instructed to, I followed the procession up the ladder to the ship’s waist to the trial that would decide my fate.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The captain, two guards, and I walked to middle of the main deck where a crude courtroom of sorts had been organized. The captain took his seat behind a makeshift desk and I was instructed to sit in a solitary chair facing it. Dozens and dozens of pirates looked on, sitting and standing wherever there was room. Curious eyes even glared down at me from the rigging.
I squinted in the brightness—I hadn’t seen sunlight for weeks—and scanned the crowd for Nicholas, but didn’t find him.
In the full light of the afternoon, Captain Black looked more terrifying than ever. With his snow-white skin, wispy hair, and blood-red eyes he looked like a demon from beyond the grave. I could hardly stand to look at him, he was so terrifying, yet I found it impossible to look away.
The captain took a pistol from his waist and pounded its butt upon the desk.
“The trial of Miss Tessa Monroe officially commences. Miss Monroe is hereby accused of the murder of Thomas Wrack. Who be the accusers?”
The majority of pirates raised their hands above their heads, cheering and hollering.
The captain stared directly at me with his grotesque eyes. “Looks like majority rules. Any last words?”
My last words? Had I just been found guilty? This was insane. I hadn’t even heard the full accusation nor had the chance to defend myself. This was my life! Not some silly pastime for bored pirates. My face flushed hot.
“That was it?” I cried, standing abruptly, not caring that I was challenging the captain. Nicholas was convinced that this trial was a show of authority to remind the crewmen of their station, but this…this trial did none of that. And now I was convinced that my punishment would be the captain’s message to the crew.
The little composure I had was dismantled. There was no way that manners or proper display of behavior would hold any sway upon these madmen. Something inside me snapped. “That’s what you call a trial? Wrack—” the name felt dirty in my mouth “—was not even murdered. Give me your reasons. Let me defend myself!” I looked into the crowd surrounding me, hoping to find a shred of sympathy.
The captain bellowed a laugh and struck the pistol butt against the desk again.
“She’s a right funny lass, ain’t she, boys?”
A wave of cackles rippled through the onlookers.
“Sit down, Miss Monroe. We are all gentleman here,” he gestured to the audience of pirates who chuckled raucously. “We be more than happy to give you the trial you ask for.”
I sat down nervously. Was this all just a mockery to them? Would my arguing prove to be a foolish move?
I looked across the sea of faces and finally saw Nicholas. He was on the forecastle deck leaning casually against the foremast, surrounded by a thicket of dirty men. Our eyes met, but his gaze was less than generous. There was no reassurance there. I remembered our last encounter on this deck, surrounded by the same pirates. Nicholas had betrayed me then. Would it be any different today?
“Of ye who have accused this pretty little thing, what reasons do ye hold to?”
“She had the motive!” a faceless voice called out.
“She broke Wrack’s nose!”
I twirled around with each flying comment, trying to locate my accusers, but the allegations came from all sides.
“She killed Wrack in his hammock!”
“She’s a witch!”
This was outrageous. Forcing myself to look into the captain’s blood-red eyes I said, “You have no proof!”
“Just like all women, they always want more,” the captain snickered, eliciting lewd chuckles from the crowd. “Tell me exactly what it is that ye be wanting from us lot o’ pirates.” He seemed entertained but I sensed a real threat under the carefree demeanor.
I thought as quickly as I could. Everything I said would be taken quite literally or twisted back on me. I needed to be clever in my requests, making sure to protect myself in every way. “First, I demand to know what charges are against me. Second, I demand the right to refute any charges or comment made. Third, I demand that honest testimony and real proof be presented to the court. No opinions, no assumptions.”
“Is that all, miss?”
I hoped it was. “Yes.”
Captain Black stood and leaned over his desk sneering at me, “Miss Monroe, you are hereby charged with the murder of Mr. Thomas Wrack. Do ye plead guilty or innocent?”
“Wrack was not murdered,” I shot back.
“Can you prove that with honest testimony or real proof?” he asked sarcastically.
“Sir, you told me yourself this morning in the quartermaster’s cabin that Mr. Wrack died of a sudden fever. Unless you claim that you lied, I use your word as honest testimony and proof that Mr. Wrack was not murdered by anyone.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose.
I smiled smugly.
“’Tis black magic!” a voice hollered from my left.
The captain addressed me again, “Miss Monroe, you are hereby charged with witchcraft resulting in the death of Mr. Thomas Wrack. Do ye plead guilty or innocent?”
“What? You cannot change the charge!”
Captain Black sneered at me. “You are hereby charged of murder and of witchcraft. You are found innocent on the charge of murder. Happy?” He mirrored the smug look I gave him a moment before. “Now onto the charge of witchcraft. Do you plead guilty or innocent?”
I looked to the crowd fo
r help. Surely anyone could see the injustice. No one seemed to care but me. Not even Nicholas.
“Guilty or innocent?” Black boomed.
“I am innocent.”
“Let it be known that Miss Monroe denies the charge.” The captain walked in front of his desk and looked at the group of pirates to either side of us as he continued his charade as prosecutor and judge. “Miss Monroe, how did you happen to be on this vessel?”
I stole a glance at Nicholas. If only I knew what he was thinking. Was he on my side now, hiding inconspicuously among the crowd to protect both of us, or was he proving allegiance to his crew? I debated whether or not I should tell the captain about our chats in the galley. Revealing Nicholas’s involvement with me may prove dangerous for him—but it could be the alibi I needed.
I answered honestly, “I do not remember, sir.”
“Can anyone else answer the question?” he asked the crew. No one answered.
“Gibbons!” he called.
A pirate shuffled forward ever so slightly and removed his knitted cap.
“I believe you can clear up this matter. Speak.”
Fixing his stare on his feet, the man told of how he was the first to see the wreckage of the ship. He informed the quartermaster and was instructed to look for salvageable goods. While the crew was hauling up buckets of rum they spotted a floating jollyboat with me inside.
The captain asked for others to confirm this story. Several did.
“The lone survivor of a hurricane,” Captain Black said to me. “How did ye manage that?”
“I do not recall, sir. I was unconscious.”
“Just lucky, eh? Or perhaps ye had some help from an otherworldly source.”
The implication was inconceivable.
The captain continued his questioning, “What happened next? What can ye remember?”
He circled my chair like a shark.
Deciding to leave Nicholas out of my story, I said, “I came onto the deck during your ruthless attack on that poor ship.”
Captain Black wheeled on me, “This is a court of law, Miss Monroe,” he said sarcastically. “We need to be objective. Best not let pesky opinions of yer benefactors taint yer testimony.”