Infernal Waters

Three ~ The Fancy

It wasn't until I was standing there, just meters above the churning sea, that I realised: I was afraid.

"Any last words, lass?" The quartermaster said, sneering at me from the safe end of the plank.

No! These can't be my last words! I can't die here, on a Spanish galley, miles from home!

"Your surgeon died, yes?" I practically yell, to whoever will listen.

"Aye, but what's it to ye?" He laughs, mockingly.

"Well, that would mean you need a new one, yes?"

"Ho ho! And d'ya think you can do it? Fat chance, lass! You'd have better luck makin' off with The Pirate King 'imself!" He says.

"I know medicine. Basic, yes, but it will do the job." I say, desperation clear in my voice. When no one replies, I continue.

"After this battle, much of your crew is injured. Dozens, I'd say."

"Aye, that much is true." He says, and a small wave of hope dashes across my mind. However, it doesn't last long, when he says, "But if ya don't walk the plank now, lass, you'll wish you did later."

Feeling the finality of the situation, I turn around.

I don't look down because I know it will only frighten me.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the fresh, salty air.

And in that moment, there is nothing I regret more than not being able to do more with my life.

I, struck down in the prime of my youth, had barely seen all the wonders that the world has to offer.

I never got to taste the rich flavours of the Mediterranean, nor smelled the fragrant spices that would frequently arrive from India. I never got to watch a play in the Comedie Francais, or listen to Jean-Baptiste's air de cour.

The faces of everyone I love flickers through my mind. My mother, my father, Nicolas, and little Charlotte. And, I realise that though they had ascended into the heavens long before I will, I haven't said my goodbyes.

I lift up my arms as if I were a bird preparing to take flight, feeling the cool breeze play with my mangled hair, and dance with the folds of my chemise.

"Je serai avec toi, à présent."

I'm about to jump, when a deep, authoritative voice yells, "Enough! Bring 'er down, lads. Smartly, if you will."

A pair of grubby hands grabs me by the waist, pulling me off of the deadly plank. He throws me on the deck, and I crumple to the floor. But I'm awake now, more alert than ever since my capture, and I spring to my feet instantly.

I look around for the source of the voice and see a hooded, shadowy figure standing on the quarterdeck. He descends slowly down the steps, toward us.

The slaves - still a weeping mess, huddled together on the sidelines - stand and watch as the scene unfolds.

The crowd of pirates part for him, showing that they either respect him or fear him. Maybe even both.

"You say you know medicine?" He asks, looking directly at me. I look around and gulp, seeing that everyone else was looking at me too.

"Yes, my mother was a nurse." I reply, my voice shrinking considerably though my posture remains proud.

"You'll do," he says to me, before turning to the quartermaster, "put 'er in the berth, we'll deal with her later."

A frightened looking boy comes forward with a tattered piece of rope and binds my wrists. While I feel this is unnecessary, I don't resist. I've pushed my luck far enough today.

He leads me across the deck, toward the makeshift bridge made from two conjoined planks.

Whilst making my way across the narrow planks, I catch a glimpse of the outermost part of the ship, at what is written there. The Fancy.

I hop onto the deck, propelled by the young pirate. I turn around briefly, and look back at the Spanish galley just in time to see the quartermaster fire a shot, and the Spanish girl fall to the ground.