The Bastard Girl (The Bastard Girl Series, Book #1)

Chapter 2~ Just the Cabin Boy

Chapter 2~ Just the Cabin Boy

That was that. After a full hour of my screaming and the mad yelling from Captain Thomas Tew, I laid in a crumpled heap on the ground, sobbing softly and letting the blood seeping from both of my ankles puddle around my bare feet. I'd survived my first torturing. And that was not my last because I hadn't answered a single question. My heart hurt far worse than my ankles; it was the charred crust of depression forming, and my yearning for my father had grown unbearable.

"Father..." I moaned helplessly, begging silently to be taken away, to have a moment of peace. Ah, I should've known better. Peace was extremely rare to find in the world. Life was cheap to folks. Gold was much more valuable.

How I dreamed things would change! For, I knew one day I'd rest in a world where equality had no need to be asked for. I'd live in a world where thievery was unnecessary and greed was only a myth. This world, I assure you, would exist whether I was still breathing to observe it or not.

Things were changing already. Time always moved. People always changed. Ideas were always passed down as a legacy to new generations. Maybe we'd one day use them. But not that day. That day, I was remembering what pain was from the bottom of a ship filled to the brim with unsanitary, brainless, and not to mention monotonous pirates. Yet, whom I sought relief for was myself.

The door was opened, but my lack of energy prevented me from lifting my head. Not like I'd find pleasure in seeing who it was anyway. The sloshing movement of a filled bucket came next. Footsteps rattled the room, and the bucket and a tray were set in the middle of the room. The footsteps were silenced. There was another breath in the room.

Then, they moved back to the door, halted, then I heard the words, "Christ, I'm gonna regret this."

The footsteps grew more audible, signifying their close proximity to me. Warm hands lifted up my arms, pulling me up but not roughly. Tears were still streaked down my cheeks, and my vision was blurred. The person hauled the bucket of water over, and I caught a glimpse of a face.

It was a boy around my age. He was dressed in a white pirate's blouse with a brown leather coat over him. A compass on a leather string hung lowly around his neck, and he had dark grey, torn trousers. The boy was also barefoot, though a white rag was tied around his ankle. Then, I saw his face as he came closer. His skin was golden, not damaged like the others but seemingly soft and more durable than perceived. The boy had unmade bronze hair that constantly brushed in his eyes. They, his eyes, were a warm brown, comforting me and reminding me of my father. A thin silver and peculiar scar ran overlapping his nose.

He moved over to me and knelt down, setting me in a sitting position. He then took a small knife out of his pocket and a little gasp escaped my lips. Quickly, the boy pressed a hand against my mouth.

"You mustn't speak, Miss Every. If I'm caught here, I'll receive far worse punishment than you. I swear I'll not hurt you. Imma remove my hand now, okay?"

My head made a slight movement to be accounted for as a nod. The boy removed his hand slowly, making quite sure I wouldn't scream out or any nonsense. Then, he set to work cutting a small rag out of the end of his trousers and soaking it in the water. Then, his diligent hands did their best to cause as little harm as possible while cleaning my wounds. I winced several times, but I honestly didn't mind it. He apologized every time with a small wince himself. Once the blood was washed away, we could see the words carved into my ankles. The left leg was messily revealing the word CAPTAIN while the right one revealed TEW. The urge to cry again followed me after seeing the wounds. But, the boy quickly wrung out the wet rag, tied it around my left ankle, and tied the white one around my right.

He gave a last look at my wound, sighed, and muttered, "The leftover blood should dry tonight. Before Tew comes in in the mornin', hide the rags in your shirt or trousers. He sends me here every night to give you food, so I suggest you eat. Oh, and I suggest you call him 'Captain' from now on." As quickly as he came, the boy stood and moved towards the door.

Finding my voice finally, I spoke up hoarsely, "Who are you?"

For the first time, his deep brown eyes met mine.

"I'm just the Cabin Boy."

Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Damn, why couldn't I stop thinking?! Crouched in a ball, I ran my fingers over the knots, feeling the slightest bit better, safer. It was that bloody Cabin boy. I couldn't come up with a logical reason for his actions. My thoughts drifted off out of my reach. So, keeping my eyes on the doorway, I snatched up the food tray consisting of crackers hiding maggots and a biscuit with mold on one side. Father once explained that that was what pirates ate, because food was scarce on a ship. Cautiously and doing the best I could, I picked the maggots out of the four crackers and munched the stale things down. Food no longer tasted desirable but more like ash on my tongue. Yet, death was the last thing I wanted on my side, so I ate.

The night was calm, waves rocking me gently like a mother would. On the deck, soft singing from the crew didn't help my drowsiness either. My head lied in the softness of my arms while I laid on the floor. The sting of the cuts had now faded to a dulling throb. My thoughts drifted to imagining me relaxed on a deck, my feet swinging off the side and the cool breeze of autumn curling in like smoke from a flame. It certainly had been a warm autumn this year. The coolness of the November air no longer put fear in my heart but a touch of calmness. Or I was mad. I was mad. Why should I have felt serenity? I was kidnapped and had torture in my approaching future! The likelihood of death was increased dramatically as did the odds that I'd never set eyes on my father again. Why smile? Why even rest?

Yet I did, and no regrets troubled me for the remainder of that night in the hull of the ship.