The Pirate and the Soldier Boy

Chapter 11

Carmen was still on the hard floor. But the bars weren't spinning. The floor didn't move. The room was cold, and she could feel it through her clothes. She sat up, realizing she still wore someone's jacket, though she had no idea who. The last two days were a blur. Most she couldn't remember. But she hugged the blue and white jacket closer as she shivered violently.

The guard outside the door must have heard her move. He turned and saw her, the shivering almost like spasms that wracked her body. She recognized his face. Unlocking the door Sam came inside and sat on the floor next to her. Carmen didn't protest as he pulled her close, giving her warmth. This gave her a strange sense of deja vu. She didn't protest, as she was freezing, and something stole into her mind that forbade her pull away. But she did not look at his face. She would not make eye contact as he spoke. "You got hypothermia, Carmel. You almost died last night."

She ignored his words. Words from a traitorous mouth. But what could she expect? Total devotion since he was held captive under her care for a few months? Did she expect him to develop Stockholm syndrome? She focused on his heat, the beating of his heart against her ear as she was held close to help her warm up, and the rough feel of the jacket instead.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what would happen when you were taken. I could only hope for my position back in the militia so I could still help you. Carmi? You're not listening, are you."

She responded coolly. "Well Samuel, you certainly got back your former status. And now your officer is probably wondering where you have got to. Best return to your post, soldier boy, and leave the poor little pirate to suffer quietly. Which I will. No place in society for me. Not even if I found my birth parents. So let me go."

She had regained some of her strength as she warmed up, and pushed herself away from Sam. She lay on the floor, back to him. As an afterthought, she removed his jacket and tossed it in his direction. "Good bye."

She lay back down. But the boy behind her didn't stand to leave. He placed the jacket over her form and lay with his back on the ground next to her, hands behind his head. Carmen again tossed the jacket in his face. Sam stubbornly placed it back over her. "Whether you believe me or not, I don't want you to die. From cold or otherwise. I have leave to help you back to health, so I'm not expected anywhere else for a long time. You're not getting rid of me any time soon."

Carmen didn't toss off the jacket this time. She felt like he heart and her brain were in an intense boxing match, and that her mind had finally won, knocking her heart senseless to the floor. But afterwards as her brain was leaving victorious it was attacked in a back alley by her heart.

Three weeks she lay on the floor of that prison cell. For one week of that she recovered from the night in the stocks. It would have taken maybe a day, but the room was still colder than ideal. That whole time Sam stayed with her whenever she he could. She still wouldn't talk to him, and they sat in silence. As soon as she was properly recovered she wouldn't let him come in the cell. She sat with her back against the bars so he couldn't swing it open. Once she felt him playing with the blunt ends of her hair. She reached back and pulled all her hair over her shoulder.

So they continued for weeks. She could tell Sam was still there, but after a few days he stopped trying to talk to her. Until he slipped a letter through the bars. It fluttered to the floor. His voice was cold and sad as he spoke. "Letter for you, Pirate."

Carmen picked up the worn paper. The seal hadn't been broken, for which she was grateful. Though it showed a certain lack of security on the part of her captors. Sliding her thumb along the wax to pop it open, she read the simple note written in a strong hand:

Carmen. However well this reaches you, come now. Mutiny. Soon to be sold by crew to slaver ship bound for Americas. Not far from where we left you. Help. -Jenna