I knew some of the crew members, like Barbossa, before the curse. I would come to know two of them very personally. The short, squat, balding, grey-haired uncle, Pintel, I dislike immensely, because of something he did to me that left me with scars, fears and nightmares. His one-eyed, (one was wooden) tall, skinny, dirty blond nephew, Ragetti, I wasn’t so sure about, because he showed kindness to me when he didn’t even know me. Ragetti has a rough exterior, but he’s much more intelligent than he looks (and sometimes shows).
The night before Jack left on his quest for the Isla de Muerta, I had gone to Tortuga, and was celebrating at the Faithful Bride. I was getting, slightly, well, actually pretty intoxicated with him. He introduced me to his crew, but some of them I had already met, like the first mate Hector Barbossa. (Long story) Most of the others were just names, and none really stuck, except for two men. The night lasted what seemed like an eternity. I partied as hard as the best of them and drank as much (If not more) as any rum-hardened pirate. When I heard the clock strike eleven I then decided that I was ready to turn in, and so I left the pub. The place I had been staying was kind of out of the way, and was quite far from the pub. I went through several abandoned alleys, three inns, some other random buildings before I got thoroughly lost. Suddenly, in the darkest alley so far, I became aware of footsteps behind me. I quickly whirled around, ready for a fight, and caught two men following me, one tall and scrawny; the other was short and had the beginnings of a pot belly sticking out of his open shirt.
The shorter one lunged at me. I tried to dodge, but, as we all know, being drunk (even slightly) can impede motor functions and reaction time. And I wasn’t slightly drunk. So, I obviously failed miserably. I fumbled for my sword, which had decided to have a day off. (I think I took it off at some point that I just don’t remember) Upon seeing that I had no sword, he grinned wickedly, then grabbed me, began to grope me, hit me, and clawed at me, tearing my dress to ribbons. Suddenly I was on the hard cobblestones of the alley, head throbbing. I must have hit it off a stone that was sticking up slightly.
In a daze of pain and drunken confusion, I saw the scrawny one, Ragetti, I realized, standing fairly far back and he seemed to be arguing and shouting with Pintel. His hands flew in the air as he got more passionate about whatever he was yelling about. Pintel just ignored him and continued to fumble with the fastenings on my dress, his fingers clumsy with anticipation. I wiggled around, trying to escape his grasp, but he only clung tighter. I gathered what wits I had left and tried to formulate a plan of escape. That failed, so instead I panicked and I screamed, hit, bit, and slashed at him as best as I could, but I might as well have been hitting a wall for all the reaction he showed. He suddenly got much more eager, and he raced to get the last few buttons undone. (Thank God for these pesky elaborate dresses) His arm strayed too close to my mouth and I bit him so hard I drew his coppery, red blood. What I got for my trouble was “You little wildcat!” and an agonizing slam where his body suddenly, forcefully became connected to mine. He had managed to get my dress off, and the attack began.
I passed out several times over the course of it all. It was just too much pain and I was so dazed that I was just helpless. My only escape from this dreadful nightmare was unconsciousness. At one point, I woke to the sound of angry voices and an agonizing, throbbing pain over my entire body. My eyesight was fuzzy and I couldn’t focus on anything for very long, but I did notice that I had bleeding cuts and scratches, and places where a knife had plunged, I guess to subdue me. I suddenly became aware of angry voices. I looked up and Ragetti and Pintel were arguing. Pintel wanted Ragetti to join in on what he called “the fun” and Ragetti was refusing, trying to defend me. I heard a scuffle then a thud. Something hit the ground next to me and I felt a rough, calloused, bony hand slip into my bloodied one. I turned my head, opening freshly clotted wounds, and saw Ragetti, smiling weakly at me. He grunted and struggled to get up. I looked at his chest to see what was keeping him down and Pintel had one foot on his chest, increasing the pressure so he would do what he said. I wanted to help him, but I was worried what Pintel would do to me, even if I could move without passing out from pain. My thoughts were, ‘why is he reluctant to join in? I would think that he, a pirate, would jump on this opportunity for pleasure. Why is he sticking up for a girl he doesn’t even know?’ I passed out again, but my last image was that of Ragetti standing up to his uncle to save me.
The next time I woke, I felt a lighter body, Ragetti on top of me. I knew he had lost the battle with Pintel, and I could feel no pain, not anything, only numbness where I had been hurt. I looked at him and he had tear streaks down his dirty face and bloody scratches all over his body. All that was left of my dress was some tattered rags that hung loosely over me like strips of flesh from a bird-eaten skeleton. Someone had put a dirty blue shirt around my shoulders. Off in the distance I heard a clock chime once. Ragetti’s rhythm was only half-hearted and gentler, lacking the desperate fury and fervor of Pintel. If anything, he was trying to make it bearable, even pleasant for me, but nothing could do that now, not after Pintel.
He noticed that I was awake and looking at him. I did this as I thought about why he would show kindness to me if he doesn’t even know me. I think I must have said something like “That’s very un-piratey” because he mumbled something in my ear and blushed. His rough hand stroked my face with a gentleness I would never have expected from him, a pirate that is leaving to steal cursed Aztec gold the very next day. His eye(s?) was kind, almost loving. He smiles at me, leans forward and kisses me. It surprised me so much I just froze and shook, wide eyes staring at him. He laughed softly, kissed me again, gave one final thrust and got up. I let out a soft moan. All the weight that had been on my body was gone, leaving me with a feeling that I was lighter than air. I kept still praying that this was the end; that the attack was over. I heard shouting voices, thuds, and then angry footsteps retreating into the night.
A second later, Ragetti picks me up and cradles my naked body against his chest. Spots and stars wheel and disappear, seemingly solid objects we walk right on through and empty air suddenly becomes a hard barrier. Land becomes a churning sea and the sky shatters and falls like broken glass on my head. Old nightmares and bad dreams from my childhood become a terrifying reality. Whirlpools of liquid rock suddenly suck me, screaming, into an infinite black. Monsters and terrifying creatures with sharp teeth and pointy claws rip gashes in me that bleed tar-like black ooze. Shining angels come out of hell and fiery demons pour out of heaven.
A warped and mutated Pintel comes back and repeats his assault. I see my mother and father, my real mother and my real father standing together with a bundle in my mother’s arms. My father is smiling down at the bundle and I start to cry out to them, reach out to touch them, but then the earth crumbles beneath them and they shatter like a porcelain pot dropped by a startled maid. I slip in and out of these dreams for a long time. I wake from this wave of pure terror and start to cry.
My tears splash all over Ragetti, who is still walking, apparently oblivious to my hallucinations. He adjusts his grip on my wet body, kisses me on the top of the head, and I cling to him and his shirt, knowing it’s a solid thing that I can trust won’t hurt me, knowing that it’s a steady thing that won’t change in the nightmare world that I have suddenly become a part of. I look feverishly around for Pintel, waiting for another bout, another hell, but, thankfully, he wasn’t there. Only Ragetti is there, holding me tightly against his now tear-soaked chest. I look up into an emotionless face and I cling fearfully to him, wondering what fearsome fate he now brings me to. He brings me into a little building in which I am laid carefully on a small cot. Ragetti says something to me, but I can’t tell what it is because it sounds like there’s a thousand of him talking all at once, each in a different language. He lays ragged sheets and canvas over me and takes his shirt off my trembling shoulders. He kisses me once more, strokes my face, and the last I see of him is his form dissipating into many multicolored bubbles.
