The Pirate And The Sparrow (ON HOLD)

Chapter One

Captain Jeremiah Pike halted.

The air around him seemed to sizzle and crack with electricity.

Head cocked to one side, he seethed, "what did you say?" His words were almost imperceptible.

It was too late to turn back now.

As Marley rose, every muscle in her body screamed in protest - her arms trembled, her back spasmed, and her legs were stiff and sore from hours of kneeling, but no more. She was done kneeling. With hands clenched into fists at her sides, she straightened her back and lifted her chin. Her eyes on the captain's back and no other.

The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

She willed her heart not to beat so loudly as it pounded against her ribcage. Marley tried to swallow, but her mouth and throat were bone-dry - she hadn't had a sip of water all day. She dug her cracked nails into calloused palms to steady her nerves, and spoke with as much strength as she could force into her quaking voice. "You heard me. I said no."

Pike turned - every movement, deliberate and honed by decades of taking the lives of men at sea. His long, copper-toned overcoat, a patchwork of dried blood and ale, whispered as it swept the wooden floor. The captain was a man of impressive stature - thickset and powerful, capable of occupying every inch of his ship without moving. His broad shoulders and mousy-brown chest heaved with every hate filled breath as he cast his eyes upon her.

Marley held fast and took in every detail of the beast that stood before her - from the jagged, white scars etched into his shaven head and the golden hoops that dangled at his right earlobe to the various daggers and pistols belted about his person for easy access in a fight to his steel-toed boots.

Marley resisted a shiver - her scratchy, woollen rags were a poor defence against the bite of the sea breeze.

This is it.

The last six months of misery had been building up to this moment. She breathed deeply, smelling the salt air and countless unwashed bodies as those cold, dead eyes assessed her - she barely noticed the stench anymore. Marley stared right back into that putrid face - every crevice and pockmark repulsed her.

At first, Pike said nothing. He remained, a few feet away from Marley, stood so impossibly still he could've passed for an effigy - if it wasn't for the ghostly-pale haze that billowed from his nostrils every few seconds. Clearly, he was trying to decide the best way to punish her for this show of insolence. By now, the whole crew had given up on their duties, and crowded round, eager to see this heated exchange between the captain and his little sparrow.

Marley could hear the soles of their boots scuff and skid as they bustled for the best positions, she ignored them.

Sheep, she thought, disgusted.

Pike caressed the pommels of two rapier swords that hung from his hips as the shuffling eased.

"So ...," he said, loud enough for all to hear. "You think scrubbing me deck is beneath you." Every syllable dripped with malice. He paused. He wasn't waiting for an answer, silence was just another weapon to be wielded. "You believe yourself to be as good as any man on me crew." He snorted and began to move, one foot carefully laid in front of the other, like a predator circling his prey. Primal instinct would tell him when was the best time to strike, to inflict the most damage. A brutish creature to the core.

His leather boots thudded, muddying the deck, and painful blisters on Marley's hands pulsed with anger. Reining in her rage, she kept looking straight ahead, tracking Pike with her peripheral vision alone. She needed to stay calm, calculated.