Living on Writer's Block

As she pulled a bake out of the fire a while later, Pierre came through the door bearing several sacks of vegetables.

“Arr, that smells mighty good, lassie. How’s it coming?”

She looked at it critically. “I think it’s okay. I’ve done worse, I guess.”

“What’d yeh put in it?”

“Some dried fruit, that’s all. I’m running out of supplies.”

He smiled. “We’ll get yeh something soon, don’t yeh worry. Meanwhile,” he grunted, heaving a sack onto the table, “Can yeh help me with dinner, lass?”

They spent the rest of the day making the meal, and laughing and talking together. As they went around the ship giving the corsairs bowls of Pierre’s delicious stew, Ramona beamed with pride as she saw the crew slurping it up with great contentment. Pierre handed her two bowls and sent her to Samuel.

“Who’s the second one for?”

“Yeh daft darling,” he chuckled affectionately, “It’s fer you!”

She turned pink. “Why didn’t I think of that,” she said, giving a slightly forced laugh. She turned and walked to where Samuel was standing at the railing, around the back of the ship, just under the poop deck. He was often there when he wasn’t busy. 

As she came around the corner, he gave a slight start at the sound of her boots tapping on the wood deck. “Oh, hello, Red.”

“Pierre sent you dinner,” she said, handing him a bowl. “And he gave me mine at the same time, so I might as well stay. If you don’t mind, that is,” she added quickly.

He chuckled drily. Pierre, you old son-of-a-gun, he thought. “No, I don’t mind. None of us do. We’ve all gotten used to you, Red; I’m sure half the crew doesn’t know what it’d be like to live without you, now.”

Ramona leaned back against the rail some distance away, bowl in hand. They ate in silence for a minute, enjoying the peace they found in this secluded spot while the rest of the crew hung around on the deck and talked, joked, and laughed loudly behind them.

“What were you thinking about, when I came around the corner?” she asked suddenly.

“Nothing, much.”

“You startled pretty hard when I came; normally you’re already watching when I come around a corner. You had to be thinking about something.”

He shook his head and sighed. “I don’t want to bother you with it, Red.”

“Please, Captain; I’m your friend, aren’t I? I want to be bothered. I care about you — and about everyone else, too,” she added quickly. She went on in a gentler tone. “You remember what you told me, a few weeks ago, about carrying burdens alone?”

He looked up from his stew, and stared at her silently for a moment. Then he sighed and shook his head again, ending the sigh with a slight chuckle. “Well, if you must insist. The trouble is, the crew’s getting tired. I’m getting tired, you’re getting tired — ” He raised a hand to cut off her gentle protest. “Don’t deny it, I’ve seen you. You’re going to bed earlier every night, and still you get up pale and with circles under your eyes. It’s the same for everyone else. The night watches are rough on my crew, and they’re getting a little edgy. I know what I said earlier about your influence on them, but they’re still tired. You’re the only reason there hasn’t been a fight yet, outside of Henry and Charlie. I’ve had men killed in fights brought on by exhaustion. It’s no small thing. So,” he sighed again, turning to look toward the sea behind his ship, “Either we need to find an island to take a rest at, or we need to put in at a port.”

“Is there another alternative? I haven’t seen any signs of land for a while, now, Captain.”

“Well…” he glanced away uncomfortably, “I suppose… we could do a little credit to our vocation.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you trying to confuse me with flowery words? Do you mean ‘do some pirating’?”

His mouth curved grimly into a smile. “You see everything, Red. Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“Isn’t that a bigger risk, though? Can’t they get hurt?”

He laughed sardonically. “These fellows? Are you kidding? They feel better when they’ve got a cut or two, and they rarely get anything worse than that on a raid. I’ve not often known anything to happen to them. They’re the only ones that can hurt each other, honestly.”

“Well then why haven’t you done it already?”

He looked at her in silence. “You’re serious?” he said after a moment, disbelievingly.

“Captain,” she said, giving an elegant curtsey, “I am completely serious, I can assure you.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to, which is why we haven’t done one yet. Normally we do as many raids as there are ships on the sea, but when you joined, we were all a little wary.”

“Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m soft. Have you forgotten so quickly?” Her voice was gentle. “I’ve been through some things I’ll never be able to wipe away, things this crew has never dreamed of.”

He looked down at her, kicking himself inwardly for his forgetfulness. “Of course you have. I’m sorry, Red, I did completely forget. I know you’re more than capable of what we do here. You’ve just — you’re such an elegant person, we forgot what you’d been through. No one would think it to look at you.” 

She gave him a small smile. “It’s alright, Captain. You’re not used to a woman on the ship.”

His lips tightened in sardonic amusement. “No, we’re not. Redhawk — if you’re sure you want to help us — ”

“Captain, I am a part of this crew. I’m a part of your crew, and I will follow your orders. I want to help the crew, and I want to help you; and if that means a fight, I can do it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re really quite remarkable, Redhawk.”

“I’ve been told before,” she said, smiling. 

“And I did mean it, both times,” he said coolly.

“You’re very kind, Captain.”

“No no, I’m quite serious, even my crew isn’t like this. They enjoy a fight, yes, but not for what it might do for their mates. You really seem to care about these people, more deeply than most, and you’ve only been here a month and a half. It takes most people a long time to just get used to them.” He shook his head slightly. “I’ll say it again, you’re really quite remarkable.”

She smiled shyly. “I’ve never had anyone to care about before. I like the feeling.”

Samuel turned and looked back out at the ocean behind them, his left hand on the rail and his right resting in his characteristic pose on his hip. “They feel it, Red. They’re a little confused by it. None of them have ever had someone care like you do.”

She glanced up at him. “That can’t be right. I mean, Jiminy and Edward are best friends, brothers, and Henry and Charlie are devoted to each other. And the crew had parents when they were all young.”

“Well, yes, but the thing about a pirate is that, often, he’s the son of a pirate, who’s generally the son of another pirate. Eventually it gets into your blood. Buccaneers like us, as you probably know, aren’t well-known for staying to care for whatever child they might have. And the child’s mother — well. She’s generally not the most attentive either.” His eyes were distant as he watched the ship’s wake. “Jiminy and Edward aren’t actually brothers. Ed was just another boy in the streets of the town, and he and Jiminy began sticking together. Ed protected Jiminy from the older boys in the town, and eventually stowed away on the Osprey with him. They definitely have every right to call themselves brothers, but they’re not related as far as they know.”

“You were talking about a pirate’s parents a second ago,” she said gently, after processing the new information quietly with a few bites of stew. “I feel I’ve hit a nerve.”

He looked out the corner of his eye at her, lip tightening ruefully. “Aye? Ask me how I know.”

She grimaced. “When people say that, they generally are trying to say they’ve been-there-done-that.”

“So it is in this case,” he said grimly.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, going to stand beside him at the rail and watching the waves. 

He looked at her. “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

“I beg pardon, did that go against an order? I wasn’t aware I’m not allowed to feel sorry for my friends.” Mischief twinkled in her bright green eyes. 

He gave a slight smile. “No, it didn’t.” He sighed and propped his elbows on the rail. “I just can’t figure you out sometimes, that’s all. I really don’t know how to deal with you.”

“How do you mean, Captain?”

“Well, one minute you’re all ready to go and raid a ship and such, but the next you’re just — for lack of a better word — a tender woman, feeling sorry for me when it wasn’t even your fault. I simply don’t understand how you can change so fast.”

“Don’t even ask, I don’t understand it either,” she said, a faint smile on her lips. “Few do.”

He laughed a little, and then they just stood together, silently watching as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the ship. “It’s getting late,” Samuel said after a little while. “You should get to bed.”

She looked up at him. “All due respect, Captain, you should do the same. Your crew aren’t the only ones looking pale and gaunt.” 

He smiled wanly. “Thanks, Red. I’ll turn in in a bit. You go on.” 

“Yes, Captain,” she said, and turned to go. The lady walked around the back of the ship and came out onto the deck, and let her shoulders droop exhaustedly. She’d tried not to show her weariness with Samuel there. He was worried enough for his crew without seeing them stumble around, the way she felt like doing. She turned and went into her quarters. She kicked off her worn black boots and undid the top button of her blouse, loosening the collar, and fell into the hammock strung up in the corner of her room. She swung there for a minute, her tired eyes resting glassily on the hem of her scarlet skirt. She blinked and sat up looking closer at the hem. She sighed when she saw it was frayed worse, as so much of the rest of her outfit was. She’d had no clothes other than what she had on when Samuel saved her ever since she joined, and they were beginning to show much wear, small holes everywhere, loose threads, frayed hems, and lots of dirt. She hoped that wherever they stopped, there’d be somewhere where she could try and get somewhat clean again. She was also hoping she’d be able  to trade some of her desserts for some new clothes somehow. Slowly, her thoughts became incoherent and her eyelids drooped. She drifted off to sleep.

“Please, dear, won’t you help your Matron? Think of how well I treated you, you were my second-in-command! You won’t get such treatment from him, I can tell you that, dear,” she said, in her old poisoned-sugar voice.  Her pleas rang agonizingly in Ramona’s ears. A fire-eaten, pale, sea-bloated Matron wobbled toward her with her arms stretched out in supplication, jeweled fingers like claws reaching for her. “Please, darling little Ramona, won’t you please help me? It hurts, so much, and I can’t even make myself feel better because yoU STOLE MY MAGIC!” 

Her voice changed again into a terrifying roar, just as before, and she suddenly grew monstrous and huge, her teeth changing into double rows of huge black fangs that closed over Ramona. A sound like crashing, screaming wind filled her ears and she began falling down the same long dark tunnel, and she couldn’t see anything. Something invisible pressed over her mouth and nose, and she struggled desperately to free herself to breathe. Suddenly her legs snapped under her as she landed on a hard floor. She could not feel the pain, only the sickening snap that sent a jolt through her stomach into her throat. 

She looked around, no longer smothered, at a dank dungeon. In the corner was standing the same very tall, thin man, his long arms hanging past his knees, his bald head all dotted with sores bowed over his sunken chest. He slowly raised his face and looked at her with blazing red eyes and an inhumanly wide grin, showing yellow teeth as long as pencils. He began shambling towards her, his arms swinging from side to side. He slowly raised one hand, and she saw it held an enormous needle. She tried to move, but chains clanked and she found that she was bound to a post by link so large she could have fit two fingers into each, even with its neighbors connected to it. She tried to scream but her head was pinned back against the post was well, just like every other time, her mouth gagged, her chin raised, exposing her throat to the needle as the inhuman thing slowly advanced it towards her. The tip of the needle touched her neck and pierced all the way through — she felt it come out the other side, and then, for the first time, something changed. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a door come crashing open that she had not noticed before. Through it leapt a man with black hair and blue eyes, his billowing navy shirt hanging in shreds, showing the body torn with innumerable cuts and horrible gashes underneath. He stood looking at her for a moment, mouthing words soundlessly at her, and then he looked at the long, inhuman monster. With a shout she could not hear, he raised his sword and slashed down, slicing the ghoul from its left shoulder down through the right hip. The thing convulsed violently, sliding off itself, and fell in two halves to the floor, where it turned into a black mist and vanished away. The man turned back to her and gently removed the gag from her mouth. 

She fought past the voicelessness of nightmares. “Captain?” 

He raised his sword and brought it smashing down on the chains that bound her, and then she was flying upwards again, staring down at the small grey circle of stone floor beneath her as Samuel stared up at her, his sword shattered into dozens of pieces on the ground at his side. The dark tunnel drew together beneath her, shutting him out of her sight. She looked up and saw a bright light above her, and then she flew out into bright sunlight, and the Matron’s body was nowhere to be seen. She looked around again, feeling her unblemished neck curiously, and then the sunshine faded, and she woke up, gasping in wonder. She sat up quickly, seeing sunshine stream in through the window beside her hammock.She waited with bated breath for the flames to rush up her body and consume her, but only the slightest tingle reached up to her waist and then died there. She let out a breath in shock. She didn’t hurt. She smiled. Today would be a good day.