Living on Writer's Block

She looked around at the walls, reminded strongly of the Matron’s under-deck. It gave her the shivers. But instead of cells, the walls were lined with sacks of spices, crates and barrels of food and ale and wine, shelves lined with pottery and jewel-cases, and she was delighted to find several folded stacks of cloth. She went and ran her hands carefully over it, having tucked the tip of the kerchief into her waistband, and found several pieces she liked. Many of her choices were red, her signature color; a few were black, and the rest were white. She opened a few jewel-boxes at random, but was not particularly fascinated by any until she found a pair of gold hoops. She liked the simplicity, and it fit with her new lifestyle. She hadn’t worn earrings in a long while, but they slid in easily anyway. She put them back in the box and put it on her pile of chosen items. When some of the crew, such as Gorrill and his powder-monkeys, saw her opening the jewels, they whooped and ran over. She laughed as they examined the expensive things, wondering aloud how much they could be sold for. Henry and Charlie began another tussle about whether a ruby necklace would sell for a thousand or a thousand and a half, and Ramona quickly removed her modest pile from the immediate vicinity. Gorrill looked at her over the fight and grinned. She smiled back, shaking her head slightly in amusement, and went to see if she could find thread and needles with which to make her new clothes. As she was passing a hurriedly ransacked crate, however, she stopped and backtracked. In it was a red velvet cloak, and she picked it up curiously. The cloak was long and had enough material in it to go around her almost five times, and the hood was large, but it was perfectly her length, just barely brushing the floor when she put it over her shoulders. She smiled. This would replace the black cloak she’d lost when the Matron’s men took her in; plus, it fit her much better, and was far warmer. She draped the heavy garment over her arm and scooped up the cloth and the jewel box. As she went towards the staircase that led up to the deck she spied a pair of beautiful black leather boots peeking out of a space between two crates. Shaking her head at herself, she sat down on the floor and pulled the boots out, and compared them to her own, amazed at her luck and happy to find that they were the perfect size. What were the odds, in the middle of the sea? She added them to her stack and then returned to the deck. As she emerged from the depths, little Jiminy ran over to her. 

“Hello, Miss Ramona! Cap’n told me to help carry things to the ship, so I am. Can I take those?”

She smiled. “Of course, if it’s not too heavy.” She bent down and offered the stack of cloth, the boots,  and the jewel-box to him. He waited for the cloak, looking up at her with large brown eyes. 

“Cap’n told me to take everything, Miss,” he said firmly. 

“Well, I don’t know that you can carry this, Jiminy,” she said, biting back a smile. 

“Don’t worry, I can do it,” he said eagerly. 

“Alright then,” she said uncertainly as she carefully folded it and laid it on top of the other things. The child staggered slightly and she reached quickly to help him, but he turned away defensively. 

“No, Miss Ramona, I can do it!” he said determinedly, and set off bravely to where the rowers were helping transport things to the Osprey. She laughed a little as she watched the small boy, dwarfed by his load, stagger off, and then she looked around for Samuel. He surprised her by being just a little behind her and to her left. 

“He’s stronger than he looks, Red. He’s a scrappy little kid,” he said affectionately, watching the child.

“I know he is, I’m just worried that he’s not as strong as he thinks he is,” she said anxiously.

“He’s alright, Red, calm down. And, you’re bleeding again,” he added. She pulled the kerchief out of her waistband,  and held it to the sore side of her face. Samuel looked round as his name was called, and hurried away. She went to the side of the merchant ship and looked over to see the Osprey waiting below, and she quickly climbed over and lowered herself down to the waiting vessel. As she did, she felt a strange feeling of home wash over her as her boots hit the deck. After searching a moment on the kerchief, she applied a blood-free area to her cut, and went to her quarters, where she collapsed into her hammock, exhausted by a pirating raid in the very beginning of the day, pressing the kerchief harshly to her right cheek despite the pain. Jiminy’s unique patta-pat-pat-pat knock sounded on the door. She sat up a little. 

“What is it, Jiminy?”

The door opened and a tall stack of cloth, topped by black boots and a jewel box, preceded the boy through the door. Ramona sat up a little straighter. “Why thank you, Jim; I was going to get those later.”

The child set down the pile and stretched, bending backwards as far as he could, and then smiled at her as he relaxed forward, gasping a little with exertion. “You’re welcome, Miss Ramona!” He turned and ran back out the door, closing it behind him.  

Ramona fell back in the hammock again, staring out her window at the still-sunlit day. Sighing, she turned her attention briefly to the bloodstained wad of cloth, turning it over and sideways and inside out till she found another clean area. She pressed it to her stinging cut and looked dreamily out the window again. She found it hard to believe that it was barely even lunchtime yet. Suddenly she sat bolt upright. Lunch! She slid off the hammock and ran out the door to the kitchen, hopping down the stairs as fast as she could, tucking Samuel’s kerchief into the waistband of the skirt again. She hurried to the kitchen and immediately set about preparing a meal of bread, fried fish, figs, dates, and a small amount of cheese for the crew. Placing the bread on a board with a thwump she took a knife and hurriedly began slicing it. As the boots of the pirates began to echo on the ceiling of her little kitchen she finished putting everything together and grabbed the small bell she had reserved for calling the crew to meals. She hurried up the stairs, holding the hem of her skirt high to keep it from tangling her toes, and emerged just in time to see the Osprey begin to resume her course, leaving the merchant ship behind. She raised the bell above her head and shook it vigorously, and then the crew began, slowly, in twos and threes, to group together and head in the direction of the kitchen. She turned and went back down the hatch, hanging the bell on its hook, and began handing out plates and bowls heaped with bread, fish, fruit, and cheese to the crew as they came by the kitchen.

She loved this part of her life, getting to say hello to Wilhelm and Gorrill and Francis and Merlin and all the others. This was a simple way to keep an eye on them and keep track of how they were doing. The flood of sailors dwindled to a trickle after a little while, and the men who came now were rushing, hurrying to get back to the job they hadn’t before been able to leave. But they all had a little time to spare for her, giving her a nod and a quick smile, and often voicing concerns for her  cut and praising her for fighting. She acknowledged it with a smile and a nod, and a word of thanks, neither especially humbled nor prideful about it. Merlin was especially pleased by her fighting, and noted the new rapier she now carried. 

“You know how to use it, I trust?” he said in his warm, dark voice. 

She nodded. “I learned when I was — erm, when I was younger,” she said hesitantly. “I know how to fight with a lot of types of weapons.”

“I am impressed,” he said. “Not many of our crew even have heard of those things.”

After this brief exchange he bowed politely and carried on his way. Ramona took a seat with a weary sigh, as no one else was coming for the moment. She leaned her forehead on her hand and shut her eyes, exhausted even further than before. Her mind felt warm, and a little bit vague and fuzzy, when a voice broke in on her half-dozing consciousness. 

“Redhawk?” Her lashes fluttered open, and her gaze went to Samuel’s shadowy silhouette in the doorway. He stepped inside and crouched on the floor in front of her. “You sure you’re alright, Red?”

“Samuel,” she murmured sleepily, a small smile on her lips. “Good to see you again.”

His eyebrows rose. “Right, you’re definitely not alright. You should get to bed, lass.”

She blinked and sat up, pulling in a breath quickly, shaking her head hard. She winced at the pain in her cheek, and touched it carefully, pulling her hand away to show that the cut had split again and was bleeding afresh. Sighing, she took out the kerchief and put it to use again. “No, Captain, I’m fine. I really am,” she said, looking up at him. He watched her deal with the cut impassively, but faint concern showed in his eyes.

Samuel shrugged and stood up, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “I was worried, at first, when I saw those two on you today,” he said. 

“I’ve handled worse. My mind wasn’t exactly as sharp as it could have been, though. It’s been a little while since I actually fought with a knife.”

“You prefer the rapier, I assume?”

“I do. Daggers are all well and good — oh, which reminds me.” Her hand went to the sheath at her back and she drew the knife he’d leant her. “Safe and sound, sir.”

He took it, eyes eager, and inspected it carefully, then slid it into his belt. “Thanks.”

“What’s so special about that one, if I may ask, Captain?”

“What makes you say that?” he asked, resuming his place against the wall. He raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“You just seemed a little anxious as you looked at it.”

“You’re observant. That’s the first knife I ever got, Red; I borrowed one from my own captain when I was young, and then one day I won a fight during a raid and took this one. It’s served me well since then, especially today.”