A Weather Eye on the Horizon

A Weather Eye on the Horizon (8)

hi so now im writing 3 books on here if you didnt know so i'm kind of busy... so i've made a deal with myself that i'll write one chapter (or part or diary entry or whatever) for each at a time before moving on, okay? sorry for the delay!

June 9, 1720

Dear little book,

I believe it is the ninth. I fell asleep and now do not know what time it is. I am sitting in my cabin, on the cot which is to serve as my bed. I cannot believe I ever complained about having to share with Grace. I think I am near the crew’s quarters: there is often loud and raucous singing and the most dreadful language I have ever heard in my life. I wonder what is to become of me. Will I be on the ship forever? What if the Navy captures this ship? Will I, too, be hanged?

That evening

Dear little book,

It is the ninth. The captain called me to his quarters earlier. He told me the date. He has a log in which to keep track of the ship’s affairs – I shudder at what that might be – and he told me.

The captain’s office is quite nice. Small, like everything else on the ship, but comfortable. He ushered me in, and had me sit down in a hardback chair. He offered me a biscuit. I was taken aback, but my stomach took command and I took one. He then told me his name: Captain Jack Rackham. Jack Rackham! I cannot believe it! He is the one everyone was talking about. Apparently, he received a pardon from Governor Woodes Rogers, but he is now back to piracy, and looting around theCaribbean. I cannot believe my bad fortune.

He says I am to call him Captain, or Calico Jack, which his crew calls him. I now know why it struck me that he wore all calico. This is Calico Jack! The famous – well, infamous, really – pirate of the Caribbean! I cannot believe this.

He then politely asked me my name.

I told him: “I am Annie VanElslander.”

He smiled at the name; why, I do not know. He then tried to pacify me by talking of his ship, and what a good crew he had. I did not listen all that well, and he gave up after a while.

I am now back in my cabin. It looks as though I will stay here for a while. I hate it here. There are roaches crawling around, and I am sure I have heard rats. I shudder to think about it.

Two days later, the Eleventh, I think

Dear little book,

Today the boy from the crew came into my cabin. He knocked at first. I was seated on my bed and allowed him entrance. He looked annoyed at having to come to see me, his green eyes cold and his face mocking. He stepped inside, ducking under the low doorway – he is quite tall – and said, “The captain sent me. I’m to give you these clothes.” He held up some baggy trousers and a white shirt: boy’s wear. I flatly refused to take them. He put them down on the floor next to the cot and stood there. I stared coldly at him. He said, after a moment, “What be your name?”

I frowned at him a moment, then said coolly, “Annie.”

He grinned slightly, just the right corner of his mouth going up. His green eyes sparkled a bit. “I’m David,” he said, “David Graves.”

Davy’s name!

I stared at him a moment. He said, “Anything else you be needing?” His face showed his reluctance, and he glanced at the door.

I hesitated, and then said, “Please – David – is there a window in here?”

He stared at me a moment, then grinned again. “Nay,” he said. “But there’s a porthole.” He walked over to the far wall, farthest from the door, and lifted up a small latch I had not seen before. Then there was a small creak, and it opened. “There ye go,” he said, looking back at me and brushing a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. His hair is rather long, hanging down to his collar. It is rather wild-looking, pulled back with a bandana in what seems to be the typical pirate fashion. I saw a couple small braids twisted into his hair. How strange pirates can be!

“Thank you,” I said. “That is all.”

He looked at me, a hint of contempt flitting across his face. He left then, shutting the door with a loud slam, and I jumped. Now I am alone again, but at least there is a window, even if it is a porthole. It has no glass, and I wonder what would happen if the sea rose in waves. I pray I will not find out.