Infernal Waters

Six ~ Lunatique

"I must say, you turned out to be a great investment." The captain says, taking a small step towards me.

He was an attractive man, without a doubt. Yet, that didn't take away from the fact that he was a pirate, and who's motives were based purely on a lust for wealth.

His dark blonde hair was long, and was pulled out of his face and tied into a miniature ponytail. His skin tone was uneven, and the pink, sunburnt skin clashed with the patches of bronze. Though his complexion heavily contrasted the striking shade of blue that his eyes held.

His jawline was firm and strong, and his nose was long and slender, but slightly crooked as if it had once been broken, and left to its imperfections.

His tall, statuesque figure stood over a thick, mahogany desk, which held various maps and charts, and well as letters and illustrations of people and places. On one, I saw an inaccurate portrait of the Marquis de Châteaurenault, governor of Brittany.

I recognize him from the occasions in which he would visit my hometown, Saint-Brieuc. As a local seaport booming with business, he would often travel there on official business. He was always moving between there, and Saint-Malo, another seaport that was often used as a stopping point for French corsairs.

"I'm no investment," I say, irked by his statement, "because for me to be an investment, you will have had to pay for me. But, seeing as I'm a slave, that did not happen, no?"

This statement, despite my complete seriousness in saying it, earns a chuckle from him.

"You are no slave here," He replies, earnestly.

"Oh? then why am I locked in a cell, like a slave?" I ask, my voice rising with a new-found air of confidence.

He pauses, considering this statement, before taking a small step toward me.

"What is your name?" He asks, finally.

"That is irrelevant, I believe." I did not want to tell this stranger, this pirate, my name.

"Then what am I to call you? Maybe, since you often talk about them, I shall refer to you as slave?" He asks, quirking his eyebrow, as if daring me to refuse him again.

"My name is Ana," I say, reluctantly.

"Well, Ana, do you know what would happen if there was nothing separating a young, pretty girl such as yourself, from them?" He asks, taking another step towards me, almost too close for comfort. His voice low and grim.

Embarrassed that I had not thought of this beforehand, I look down at my hands and pick at the dark, dried blood under my fingernails. I have nothing to say to him.

I do not answer back, though my silence is enough to tell him that I understand. He backs away, and walks over to the window located behind the desk.

"Surely, you are aware of the reputation that pirates have towards women?" He asks, and I only nod mutely in reply.

"Then you should know, Ana, that a ship is no place for a woman." He says.

"On a ship, or on your ship?" I ask, my eyebrows quirking to match the expression he wore not too long ago.

"Ana, you need not fear me. Though, I cannot vouch for my men." He says, as his piercing blue eyes bore through mine. "It's a strong pirate belief that a woman is bad luck for a ship."

"And what do you think?"

"Personally, I don't believe in it," He says, giving me a sideways glance. "I just think that if a woman were on board, the men would not be able to control themselves, and would fight over who got to fuck her first." He replied, cuttingly.

C'est étrange! It's weird! Gone was his jocular demeanour. The man could change his tune faster than you could say lunatique.

After a long pause, in which I attempt to decipher his emotions, I ask, "Why did you ask me here? To scare me? If so, then I'd like to leave now."

When he says nothing, I turn and am about to head for the door, when says, "Sit, Ana,"

He gestures toward the chairs padded with red leather, adjacent to the desk.

Seeing as it would be in my best interest to obey the man who's hand's my fate rests in, I sit.

"Well, you're our new surgeon."

"Yes, and?"

"That means you're part of our crew. And, as a part of our crew, there are rules you are expected to abide by. A code of conduct, if you will."

"I thought pirates lived by no rules?" I sneer.

Choosing to ignore my statement, he continues.

"First things first, I control anything and everything that happens on this ship. I make the descisions. If you need supplies, you have to come to me first. Is that clear?"

"Aye, aye," I reply, touching my hand to my forehead in mock salute.

"And what is your name then?" I ask.

"You will refer to me as captain, and only that."