The Death of the Girl
The wall painfully met her shoulder as she crashed into it. She was sure it was going to leave a bruise. She grabbed the top of the oak cabinet, trying to steady herself. This storm was much wilder than expected. The door opened, stealing her attention. Sinn walked in. It took the weight of his huge body to shut it again.
“Sinn.” She stumbled towards him. “How be me father?”
He ran his hand over his wet baldhead to sweep the water off. His lips turned into a smirk. “Well, as always.”
Relief slumped her body. “And t' ship?”
“A sail be down.” He shrugged, showing he was not worried about it. “It be nothin' we cannot handle.”
“And t' crew?”
He laughed. His lids lowered, hiding his amusement. “I be happy t' hear you care.”
Gentina scowled at him, her hands going to her hips. A wave hit the boat and knocked her to the side. She threw out her arms to balance herself from falling. “I care.”
“Only after t' ship and your father.”
She playfully shrugged. “Of course.”
He shook his head as he lovingly watched her approach him. His muscled arms crossed over his chest as he forced his face to harden. ”What be you doin'?”
“Goin' out t' t' deck.”
His eyebrows rose with interest. “Oh, you believe you can better me?”
She stumbled some more. If only the damn boat would hold still she’d be fine. “Of course.”
His chest bounced laughter. "You be a arrogant one.”
She fell but caught his arm before she hit the ground. Her smoky eyes met his. “I be me father’s daughter.”
He had never heard truer words spoken at sea. “True,” his eyes softened as he pushed his chin up. “But you be still not goin' out thar. Your father will feed me balls t' t' shakes as he nails me feet t' t' wood meant t' weight me down.”
She laughed because she knew it were true. “You be silly.” She held onto his forearm as she swayed with the ship.
“Am I,” his brows wrinkled with disapproval.
Her face sobered. She knew her father just as well as him. “Why be you not gettin' knocked around?” She inched closer to the door.
“It takes more than our precious sea t' get t' better o' me.” His lips pinched together in stubbornness as he noticed she was still trying to get out.
Her hand settled on the knob. She felt Sinn’s presences close behind her. “I just want t' glance outside once. I want t' know how it be t' truly be a pirate, instead o' a protected lass.” She stared at the door. She wanted to open it, but wouldn’t until he said she could. Her feet were spread, holding her steady for the moment.
“Okay,” he softly gave in. “But only a look.”
“Only a look,” she promised, turning the knob. The wind threw her back into him.
His strong hands grasped her shoulders, determined to keep her safe. The rain attacked her face. She slightly turned her face away from it, but refused to turn completely away.
The sky was gray and ugly as the waves battered the ship, tossing it left then right. A few men fought to control a loose sail. They didn’t want to lose it since it was the center one.
Her father stood with his back to the rail as he shouted orders. She saw Jove slip on the wet deck. She took a step forward, wanting to grab him before he slid off the ship. He saved himself by grabbing the rail. He feet were off the ship but thanks to his hold he was still onboard. Her father was the only man to look at him and see what had happened. The others were too busy trying to save the sail. Jove’s left hand slipped.
“No,” she screamed, unaware when she did it. One of the men was going to fall to their death, and all she was allowed to do was stand here and watch. She struggled against Sinn’s hold to no avail; he was much too strong.
Her father’s eyes met hers. Her brows lowered in distress. His face was a stone. He knew what he had to do for his daughter, if for no one else. He braved the slippery deck for another man’s life. "Continue with that sail," he yelled to the crew.
She calmed as she watch her father play hero. Jove had a hold of the rail with both hands again. His feet slid and kicked off the side of ship. It appeared as if he was going to fall. Her jaw set in worry as she watched her father only slightly struggle to pull him up. Both fell back onto the deck of the ship. She smiled, resting her body on Sinn’s.
“Let us close t' door,” he said over her head as he stared out the opened door.
“Just a moment more,” she said, a hint of a plea in her voice.
His eyes drifted down to her. She was seeing her father as a hero, a way no pirate should ever be seen. Except, perhaps, by a daughter, his mind whispered. “A moment more,” he caved.
Her father shouted at Jove, chasing him away. He proudly rose to his feet as he watched his men. He knew they would beat this storm, as they had done many times before. He met his daughter’s smoky eyes through the rain and gave her a small, reassuring smile. She was the best thing in his life; no pirate should ever be as lucky as him.
When he broke their eye contact she chanced a look at the sea. It had clamed. Her feet swayed less. We have won, she mentally told it. Her lips smugly curved.
If she had heeded the past warnings of her shipmates she would have known better than to tempt the sea. She was a moody bitch. In the distance the water gathered beneath the surface. When none expected it, she struck.
Fear closed Gentina’s throat as the wave rose out of the deep blue sea. Her father turned as the wave crashed down on him. She almost collapsed as she watched in horror as he was knocked off his feet. If Sinn hadn’t had a hold of her she would have fallen, possible being tossed around as the sea raged on.
“No,” she screamed when he father disappeared over the rail. Sinn’s fingers dug into her flesh as he held her back from running onto the deck. “Father!”
The crew froze. One of them let go of the rope as he stepped towards the rail. “Our captain,” he mumbled, feeling and looking lost.
“Let me go,” she screamed, her throat pinching in protest.
“He be gone.” Sinn bowed his head in respect. Lost in thought he wasn’t ready for the pain that exploded in his shin. “Shit,” he mumbled, holding his leg instead of the girl.
She slipped and stumbled to the rail. The wind tried to push her back, but she tightly held onto it. Below, her father was nowhere to be seen. Her warm tears merged with the rain, hitting her face. Her anger rose like the wave that stole her loving father. She violently reached down snatching a piece of wood from the broken mass to throw it into the sea, wishing to hurt it as it had hurt her.
Her fingers painfully dug into the rail as she fought to get her breathing under control. Her eyes burned with tears that hadn’t fallen yet. She was a pirate no matter what anyone else said, and pirates didn’t cry. They cut their loses and moved on.
Sinn stayed back as he gave her the space she needed. She squared her shoulders, as she got ready to face the others. When she turned he saw a difference in her. Strength, not there a moment ago, a distance any one could cross. A mist formed over her eyes, closing her off from everyone.
“Get back t' work,” she yelled at the men. She took a step and slid a few feet. She refused to acknowledge it and continued forward. “Hank, get t' rope and help t' others get control o' that sail. If it be lost it will be on you!” She clenched her fists at her side as she dared him to challenge or disobey her. He did neither.
Sinn stayed where he was, watching the girl become the woman before his eyes. The wind sent her brown hair this way and that, but it could no longer toss her. Watching her father die had steeled her back. She could do this.
The sail was tamed and tied to the mass. It was secure. “Go down below, except you, Pevake. You will stay with me at t' helm.”
He obeyed. They all obeyed only Chicory, who paused to look at her. He stared at her with narrow, angry eyes. “Is somethin' amiss?” Sinn asked, stepping in his way so he couldn’t watch Gentina.
He forced himself too look away from her to look into the bigger man’s eyes. He pushed his resistance aside, now was not the time. ”No Sinn.” His feet shuffled as he went below deck with the other men.
She braved the rest of the storm, as a good captain would do, at the helm. Sinn stayed as well and was amazed that she held herself together. She had never been so hard. What happened within her he could only imagine, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
The stars slowly came out to fill the sky. Her skin goosed as the cold settled around them. She swallowed. “All is calm,” Pevake told her, feeling awkward. He glanced uneasily at Gentina. “Captain.”
Her eyes dropped at the sound of the title. Her father was captain, not her. Your father is dead, her mind reluctantly reminded her. A knife twisted in her chest. “Good,” she replied.
“Captain,” he turned towards her. “You can go rest. It has been a long day for all o' us, but especially you.” Her fiery eyes snapped to his face in warning. He dropped his chin to look at the deck. “Sorry ma’am.”
Her eyes drifted to the calm sea that now appeared like glass. Now it was beautiful when before it had been terrifying. She suddenly felt sick. “Are you sure you will be okay?”
“Positive.”
“If you need any help then come and get me.” Though she wouldn’t know what to do. He father hadn’t taught her much about running a ship.
“Do you want me t' come?” Sinn asked as he took a step towards her.
“No,” she said softly. “I can take care o' meself.”
She went to the cabin her and her father had shared. Her bed was in a small private room, while his was in the main one. Everything looked different to her after she lit the candles. His stuff was everywhere.
The bed she chose for him in Italy. The table he had forced someone to carve for her in France, so she could decorate herself the way all girls do. Her eyes drifted to the top of the table. The diamond-laced necklace he had taken from a Spanish ship shined up at her. A strained smile touched her lips. The jewels were cool against her hot flesh when she picked it up. She carried it with her to the bed, his bed.
With her free hand she gently brushed the blanket as she slowly circled the bed. Her feet stopped when there was no more room to step. She stared at the pillow, the pillow his head had been on every night before this night. The pillow he would no longer use.
Her knees gave way as she slowly sank onto the bed and stared at it. The mattress was curved to match his body. She caressed the silky fabric of the pillow surrounded by his scents. His pipe smoke laced the walls. He had enjoyed his tobacco.
She raised the necklace to her chest, to her heart. Her brows met with sorrow as she rested her head on his pillow, staring at the wall he had always stared at.
Never again will he lay here. Her face crumpled as her strength left her. No more on this night would she be the woman she had to be. She would be the girl one last time, one last time to grief for her father properly. One last time to weep for the love she has lost. One last time before she buried that side of her for good to embrace the strong, brave, possibly cold, being she was going to have to be to make it at sea.
Sinn woke her the next morning with a heavy heart. He wished he could let her sleep. He wished he didn’t have to watch her go through all she was going to have to go through. He wished he could do more for her than hand her, her father’s old deadly sword. He wished for many things, but at sea all that meant nothing, except weakness. The strong never wished because they took what they wanted as she was going to have to learn this day.
“Come young one, it be time t' prove yourself worthy o' this room.”
She wiped the sleep from her eyes as she pushed herself up. “What be you sayin'?”
“Our captain be gone. He left no first mate.” She stared up at him with blank eyes. He rolled his eyes as he looked at the wall above her head. “One has voiced a challenge against you t' be captain. You and him must settle this before t' crew does.”
She rose to her feet to stare him, still not taking the sword from his hand. “Who would do that? I am rightfully captain!”
His eyes burned into hers, with s fire she didn’t understand. It was the pirate’s fire; she didn’t have it yet. But she will, his mind purred, if she lives long enough. ”Chicory believes he should be captain.”
“He would,” she whispered, pushing her hair off her forehead. “T' others?”
“Are choosin' t' stay out o' it. Not all agree you should be captain, but all have too much respect for your father, and all he’s done for them t' betray you.”
She nodded to herself. “So if I take care o' Chicory I will not have t' worry o' them?”
“Probably not, but no one really knows t' mind o' another man. No matter what he says.”
She sighed as she dropped her shoulders in disappointment. “I suppose I have t' go out thar.”
“I suppose you do.”
Her eyes slid up to meet his. A sheepish smile touched her lips. “No matter what, you will stand beside me?”
“I stand beside whoever has t' ship,” he said with curved lips.
She raised her chin with pride as she took the waiting sword. “That will be me.”
“Then I be beside you.” He inclined his head as he bowed like her servant.
She bucked the belt around her waist as she walked to the door. Before walking out to face Chicory and whoever else wanted to stand against her she took a deep strengthening breath. “Father, be with me,” she prayed.
“He is,” Sinn whispered, standing close behind her.
She nodded to herself as she turned the knob. Outside the sun was bright and harsh on her just awakened eyes. When the crew saw her they parted just enough so Chicory and her could see each other
His feet were spread and his hand rested on his sword. A cocky smile touched his lips as he watched her approached. She slowly, calmly walked towards him. She eyed the crew as she did. Their eyes fell with shame. She placed one foot in front of Chicory and then the other. Her chin rose as she looked up to meet his eyes. “Chicory,” the name was crisp coming from her lips. “Do you disagree with somethin' that you would like t' brin' t' me attention?”
His lids lowered with distaste. “No, perhaps you do since I be now captain.”
Her brows rose as her head inclined to the side. "Oh really, how so?”
“No one knows this ship and crew better than I.” He eyed the men with a confident smile. His hand was still resting on his hilt of his sword. “And I can sail.” His eyes fell on her. “Can you?”
“Me father was captain!”
“And?”
Her brows fell with dismay, she felt herself sinking. “What?” Her brow smoothed as she collected herself. “What o' last night?”
His smile dimmed. “What o' it?”
“No one but I took control. No one but I was able t' lead us out o' t' storm.”
“I,” he started to protest.
She cut him off with her own cocky smile. “Were starin' after me father like a lost child. If not for me brains t' sail would have been lost.” She crossed her arms as she leaned back on her heels. ”See Chicory,” she spoke as if he was a child. “If thar be nothin' here,” she tapped her skull. “Then t' sailin' really be pointless, be it not?” Her eyebrows rose and fell in acknowledge me that she had won. Her point had been made. She eyed the crew, only their thoughts mattered. They looked at her with acceptance and him with distaste. She was captain.
“Fine. If words will not prove my point then this will.” He drew his sword. He bowed as he spoke his next words; “See little sea princess, brains do not matter with pirates if thar be no fire. And I do not believe you have it.”
The sight of the un-sheath sword had startled her but she quickly regained herself. Slowly she drew her own. “We do not have t' do this,” she calmly told him.
He wickedly grinned at her. “You mean, you do not want to?”
She held her sword to his with her eyes darkening. “But I will.”
The crew stepped aside. The winner would be captain, and the loser would be whatever the captain chooses. This was a deadly dance meant for two. He tried to lead, but was not strong or swift enough. Her father had not taught her to handle a helm, but he did teach her how to handle a sword. All women should be able to defend themselves, especially at sea he had said.
She blocked his sword with her own. Putting her body weight behind hers she pushed him back a few steps. His anger took charge of him, making him act without thought. He raised his sword and opened up his mid section. It was only for a second, but that was all she needed. She stepped aside and lashed out with her blade. It cut the skin above his ribs.
His chin dipped so he could look at it. She cut me, he realized as the blood appeared on his shirt. She used the tip of her sword to raise his head so she could meet his eyes. “Drop t' cutlass,” her voice held no emotion.
His wide eyes stared into hers with disbelief as he dropped his sword. His hands rested at his sides. “Now what?” He breathed a soft mocking laugh. “You kill me?”
Her lids lowered as her hand tightened on the hilt of her sword. “Step back.” His thick brows frowned in question as he did as he was told. “And another.” She kept her sword to his throat and added pressure to keep him going. He stopped when the rail pressing against his back refused to budge.
His throat pushed into her point and his skin was cut when he swallowed. “Now what?”
“Climb.”
He cocked his head, not understanding what she meant. “What?”
She pushed the tip deeper into his flesh. Her eyes were cold. “Climb,” she repeated.
He eyed the others for help. They weren’t going to help. At sea you were on your own. He straightened his back before doing as he was told. Holding onto the rail he looked at her because he didn’t want to look over his shoulder into the sea below. He had seen enough of his fall during the climb. “Now what?” he whispered.
She flicked the sword to the ocean. “Take a walk.”
“We be miles from land. There be sharks in these waters,” he pleaded, his pride now forgotten. Her eyebrows rose, un-amused. He had never seen her this cold and uncaring.
“Then I suggest an early start and as for t' sharks,” she smiled a heartless smile. There was no hint of her old self in it. “Walk quietly.”
Their eyes held as he tried to find mercy in hers. Finally, he smiled. “All be well, sea princess, I will walk. But when we meet again, I will be takin' back this here ship.”
“Never,” she promised him in a heavy voice.
He took a breath before, releasing the rail. She looked down to watch him hit the water. She didn’t lower her sword until he was swimming away. She forced herself to not care about what was going to happen to him. I am a pirate, her mind commanded of her.
She turned to face her crew. Sheathing her sword, she rested her hands on her belt. “Anyone else disagree that I be captain?”
“No,” numerous shouts said as their head shook.
She nodded. “Hank, take t' helm. Pevake, you can go rest.” She walked along the deck, her deck, to Sinn. She eyed the crew as they eyed her back. Her face relaxed as she rolled her eyes. “T' rest o' you get t' work. There be a fallen mass that stills has t' be removed from this ship and Hank cannot sail this ship by himself.”
Feet ran as they got to work. Sinn and her stood next to one another. “Well done.”
She licked her dry lips. “Thanks.” She didn’t feel like she had done a well job.
“Now what?”
“Now,” she stared into the horizon. “We continue on t' way me father would.” A smile touched her lips. “Did he not say t' Spanish treasure ship would be on route soon?”
His lips curved in return. “Aye, I do believe he did.”
“Then let us go make our names.”
He loudly laughed, glad to see she seemed okay and up to the task of being their captain. “You heard her men, time for another lootin'.” Howls of encouragement filled her ears. I can do this; she knew deep inside herself that these words were true.
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