The Scathed

[Crestshot]

Ahoy, ahoy, ahoy mates! It is that time again, and I do not mean of ghosts and ghouls, haha. So, for you, I present...

The Storm



The next day, after they had been fitted for appropriate clothes, Sarah and Charles boarded the ship again, for a trip to Tortuga this time. Josie had made sure they were outfitted properly, giving Sarah an over-simplistic white skirt and a long sleeved white shirt. Charles didn’t need much of anything for clothing. He’d already acquired seafaring clothes before leaving England. That was just something they didn’t have to spend money on, thank god. Josie had forbidden the siblings to tell their last names for some reason, and Truehound served them happily.

Josie was at the dock the next day to see them off. “Good luck on finding Kat,” she told them. “If I see her first, I’ll direct her towards you. And… watch out in Tortuga, alright? It may be a free port, but it can be a bit too free at times. Just be careful.”

Sarah let herself drop her composure for a moment. “Thank you for all of your help, Josie,” she said while Charles was helping prepare the ship. She looked for a moment as if she was going to do something, like hug Josie, but instead she simply took the older woman’s hand. “Goodbye Josie,” she said shortly, and boarded the ship.

Josie watched the pearly white sails be released and head out of the dock. She waved at the ship, “Fair winds. That girl could definitely use some extra happiness,” and went back to her small, lonely tavern.

Onboard, Charles and the rest of the crew were continuing the preparations for the high seas. The captain approached Sarah as she watched the hustle and bustle. “There seems to be a storm coming, miss,” he told her with a slight edge to his voice. “Are you certain you want to leave today?”

Sarah met his cold gaze with one of her own. Her eyes pierced through him icily. “Time is of the essence, captain. We leave now,” she told him briskly. The man nodded hesitantly and went off to give orders to his men. Sarah sighed softly and disappeared into the small cabin that had been provided for her.

Three hours later, the ship rocked wildly in the foaming waves. Sarah was slammed into the doorway of her cabin as she tried to get onto the main deck. Men were running about, trying to adjust for the storm as they tightened the sails and battening down the hatches. The captain held tight to the wheel, trying to direct the ship through this mess. Lightning flashed and thunder roared next to the crashing of water on the sides of the ship. This was the chaos of the Caribbean sea.

“I told you, you stupid woman!” the captain yelled as she reached him. “I told you the storm was coming! If we sink out here, it’s on your head!”

Sarah felt fear clench her stomach and swallowed hard. “Keep going, captain! Just keep going!” she yelled. She clutched the railing in a death grip as another dark wave washed over the ship. It tipped precariously to starboard side as she tried to go down the stairs to Charles. He held the rope in his soaking hands, trying to keep the sails from blowing away.

“Sarah, help me!” he yelled, trying to beat away the sound of the storm with his voice. His sister leaned down and tied off the sail. Another strong crash rocked the ship, and Sarah smashed into a wall of the boat. She grabbed onto the rope she had juts tied and hauled herself to her feet. Something was wrong, though. Charles wasn’t there to help her up.

A faint cry was heard from the side of the ship. Sarah slipped in a puddle in her haste to get to the side of the ship. A dark brown head of hair floated briefly above the waves, then disappeared.

Sarah gasped in horror. “Man overboard!” she yelled desperately. She moved to an emergency bell the captain had shown her the first day on the ship. The gonging cut through the storm clearly. “Man overboard, port side!” she cried again.

Charles vaguely heard bells… ding, dong, ding, dong. There was yelling… Sarah? Was that Sarah? He struggled against the waves pushing every side of him. The bell continued to ring as water rushed into his ears and he was dragged under the waves. His mouth opened instinctively for air, but only took in water. He was falling, falling, falling into the abyss, and he recalled the sound of the bell. Ding... dong... come... down... the sea will take care of you.

Sand dragged underneath the soles of his boots, awakening him and giving him more power. He kicked up from the solid ground, not sure where he was going, but knowing he had to go somewhere. Strong arms pushed the water aside and water logged shoes hindered him, but he kept going. There had to be something. Davy Jones would not take this man!

His head broke the surface and Charles took a deep breath of air. Rain splattered on his face as he struggled against being pulled under again. He blinked water out of his eyes and, when they were clear, squinted in the darkness to see a patch of sand in front of him. His muscles strained with effort, and he fought his way to the small shore.

The storm tried to push him backwards, but Charles was having none of that. He kept going until sand squished underneath his feet. There wasn’t much to do but wading at that point, and Charles joyously accepted the small, muddled rocks. That is, until one of the incoming waves knocked him to the ground.

He lay in the damp shore in a daze, taking deep, heaving breaths, even though his mouth was opened to the sand. His entire boy was splayed out, and he knew he would be in pain later… if there was a later. With a groan, Charles pushed himself up, but only proceeded to roll onto his back. The rain had slowed some, dropping lightly onto his face. Thunder roared in the distance as the storm began to blow away.

The crunching of footsteps along the shore was blown away by the violent wind. A form dressed in black, head to toe, blended in with the storm clouds above. Water dropped from the long brim of a hat. A bright green apple was clutched in a gnarled hand. Lightning flashed down into the ocean, revealing his silhouette standing above the prone body of Charles.

Charles jumped at the sight of the figure. Sand moved between his fingers as he searched for something, anything, though he didn’t know what, to defend himself with. His hand finally grappled upon a rock, and he flung it at the figure. It bounced harmlessly against its chest.

“What ye be doin’ here lad?” the figure said above the storm in a gravelly voice. One of the worn hands reached down, and Charles warily grabbed it to be hauled to his feet.

“Got washed up by the storm,” he yelled.

The figure nodded. ‘C’mon, follow me,” he said. He began hulking down the beach. Charles considered going against the request, but decided there couldn’t be much harm in it. Besides, anything this man had was probably better than the storm. He ran after the dark figure.

They ended up in a small grotto, with a few torches lighting the space. Charles’ eyes widened at the heaps of treasure that filled the room. Gold and gems glittered up into his hazel eyes in the flickering light. The man glanced back at him with an amused smirk. “Ye like the shine, do ye lad?” He let out a booming laugh that echoed through the cavern. To Charles, it almost sounded like a cackle.

“Who are you?” Charles asked, his voice stronger than he really was. All his body really wanted to do was lay on the cold, stone floor and rest, but he was guarded around this man. There was no telling what would happen if he let himself relax.

The man walked across the confined space. “Jack! Where be ye, ye scoundrel?” A chattering came from a small cliff, and coins clinked together as a small monkey leaped off of them to the man. It scurried up his leg and up to his shoulder. The man pet it behind its ears, and the monkey chattered happily. “Good boy.”

Charles looked at the man curiously. “Who are you?” he asked again.

“My name be Barbossa,” the man said in his booming voice, and in the new light, Charles could see small scars marking his face. “Hector Barbossa. And me story?” He leaned against a stone casket and waved a hand. “Well, that not be important. Now you lad! What of you? Might I be getting to know yer story as well?”

Charles felt his back straighten. “I am Charles Crestshot.”

“Ah! A strong, strapping name for a lad like yerself!” Barbossa shouted, and Charles jumped again. “Aye, a good name for the Caribbean. How’d ye come washed up on that shore?”

“I went overboard in a storm,” he said. “We were headed for Tortuga.”

Barbossa must have felt very excitable, as he shouted again. “Oho! What have we here Jack?" he said to the monkey. "Strong name, strong build, and a pirate to boot!”

Charles leveled his gaze in a glare at Barbossa. “I am no pirate,” he said with a tint of venom.

Barbossa’s eyes got a glint in them. “But I can see it in ye, lad,” he said lowly, no longer shouting. “It calls to ye, don’t it? The sea, the sails, the freedom. Ye want it, don’t ye boy?”

Charles’ fists clenched. “I am no boy, either!” he shouted.

Barbossa grinned. “Anger as well. Good, very good.” He took a pistol from his belt, and Charles froze, thinking he had somehow put his life on the line. The handle of the pistol pointed out at him though, not the barrel.

“Well don’t just stand there like a fool, Mr. Crestshot! Take the gun!” Barbossa gestured, and Charles quickly moved to take it. He held it carefully, as if scared it would bite.

“Show me that ye ain’t a boy,” Barbossa graveled. “Fire it at the monkey.” He nodded towards the creature still sitting on his shoulder.

Charles gaped. “But… the monkey is-”

“Blast it all, boy, do it!” Barbossa roared. Charles felt the anger at being called a boy again, and swiftly raised the gun and pulled the trigger. Thunder echoed through the grotto, both from the gun and the storm still raging outside. The monkey shrieked and fell to the ground with a thump.

“Oh, shh, Jack, shh,” Barbossa said to the leaping and growling animal. It skittered onto Barbossa’s arm, and he stroked it gently. His dead blue eyes met Charles’ hazel. “That was a pretty sure shot, lad,” he said. Charles shrugged and tried to hand the weapon back. “Nay, keep it,” Barbossa said. “That weapon be yers, lad. The pistol be yer gift, and not just from me. Keep that handy. I feel it’ll get ye out of more than a few tight spots.”

Charles grasped the pistol surely in his hand. His palm shaped around the butt of the gun, his finger curling around the trigger. Perhaps Barbossa had a point. It just felt right.

“Charles!” a female voice yelled. It was faint as the sound went through the cabin. “Charles!”

“It seems someone be lookin’ for ye lad,” Barbossa said. “Ye’d best be gettin’ outta here. Fair winds to ye.”

Charles nodded. “To you as well, Barbossa,” he said.

“I won’t be gettin’ off this isle, so I won’t be needin’ it,” the man said quietly as Charles left the grotto. He looked back to see Barbossa tossing a green apple in the air and catching it fluidly, again and again, the fruit snapping against his palm, before a turn in the tunnel swallowed him up.

He exited to see that the rain had stopped, but the dark clouds still loomed overhead. There was a small group of people walking down the shore, calling out his name. He saw Sarah at the front, in her now slightly tattered white clothes.

“Sarah!” he called out and he saw his sister turn.

“Charles!” she yelled, and she ran down the beach as fast as her skirt and the sand would allow her. When she reached him, she took him into a huge embrace. “God, I was worried you had been taken by the sea!”

Charles laughed a little and held her tight. “I’m alright Sarah, don’t you worry.” Over her shoulder, the other men from the ship were not nearly as happy, as they glared at them. He let go of Sarah. “Anything wrong, gents?”

The captain stepped forward. “I’ve had enough of this. As sorely tempting as it is to leave you here, on this scrap of an island, we shall continue to Tortuga. Once there, though, my crew and I shall continue on our way.” He began walking away to the dinghy. “I suggest you board, or be lost to the crabs.”



Originally this was going to be an... outtake of sorts, but it fit in so well... so yah.

What say you mates? This is one of my personal favorite scenes. What about you though? I appreciate reviews. Thanks for reading!

-Kat Crestshot