hello y'all... yes, i can say y'all. i am texan... tex-mex actually. for those of you who don't know what that means... well... that just shows you aren't. but that's okay! nobody's perfect. so be happy with who you are. wait, why am i saying this? let me get to the important part.
I AM AT ONE HUNDRED PGS
okay, on my computer. but still. it's big! for me. for those of you big writers out there, well, yeah. anyway, thank you ALL for reading.... fanning........ voting......... you know the drill. if you didn't... well, what can i say? there's always a time to start! :D so yeah. anyway, i'll stop babbling...... enjoy!
Four Days Later
Dear little book,
I am back aboard the William. Yes, I have decided to stay aboard. What else was I going to do? I didn’t think I could live with not knowing whether David and Anne and everyone would ever get captured.
Here’s a thought: if the Navy captures Jack’s ship, will I too be hung? Gulp. I must try not to think like that…
But, yes, we are headed in the general direction ofBarbados, so I can only hope… But there are many places to sail to in the general direction ofBarbados. Some of the other islands, perhaps, or South America, or evenEurope! But maybe, just maybe…
We have some new additions to our crew. Lars is a huge, blond Swede, very strong and friendly enough. I believe he is in his thirties. Also new is Piotr, a dark-haired Russian. He’s thin and wiry, and quiet most of the time. He has very dark eyes that are always alert. He frightens me a little. I believe he is rather young; I am the youngest aboard ship, and then David. Anne and Mary are at least thirty. I believe this new person is twenty. Very young anyway.
Along with them, we have several new cats aboard. They wandered on board, and sailors, being very superstitious, insisted on keeping them. David told me they also make good ratters. I suspect that is the reason why Calico Jack allows them aboard. The rats can be horrid aboard this ship.
Queen Anne is still my favorite, and she still sleeps with me. But Anne, Mary and I have been naming the others. The fluffy ginger she-cat is Bloody Mary, after that one queen ofEnglandwhose history is rather grisly, if you ask me. So now we have a Queen Anne and a Bloody Mary after Anne and Mary. Interesting. Also aboard are Jacky (after the captain, of course), a light grey tabby tom, and Mullins, a brown tortoiseshell she-cat. I grinned at the name, but also felt a sense of homesickness. Good oldMullinsBay.
It’s August 13. Or fourteenth. I cannot believe it. I was taken on June 8, or so, and now it is August. Two months! I can’t believe it.
Will I ever get home?
Four Days Later – I think
Dear little book,
Good news! Today Anne told me that Calico Jack has turned to the direction ofBarbados! Just the direction of it, but there’s still hope. We’re going somewhere in theCaribbean. Certainly not Europe of South America though. I almost cried when she told me. I’m going home!
Well… hopefully. If we stop at Barbados, and if I’m allowed to get off, and who knows how long it will be until then? She said we will most likely stop in other places to clean the keel (whatever that means) and get provisions, naturally. It could take months! All the same… I can’t wait to see everyone again! David isn’t pleased. He tried to look happy for me, but I can tell he was upset. I’ll miss him and everyone, but I really want to go home.
Sunday, August 25, 1720
Dear little book,
I know the date because David told me tis his birthday. He’s eighteen today! The odd thing is, if I remember correctly, today is also Luke’s birthday. He’s sixteen. I couldn’t help feeling a little down today that I was missing my brother’s birthday, but I tried to be cheerful for David. We had the equivalent of a dinner together, if you will, because hard tack and dried pork is not my idea of a dinner, but Anne surprised us with an orange each! She’d gotten them inPort Royal. They were excellent, but a lump rose in my throat of my throat, remembering all the fruits we had inBarbados, and remembering the promise I made to Natalia and Gael. I saved half of my orange for another occasion. I hope ‘twill last.
This evening David and I had the same watch and we faced the open sea. I expressed a desire to return to Barbados, and he was quiet. I wished I hadn’t said anything, so quickly changed the subject by telling him that it was Luke’s birthday also. He said, “That’s nice,” very politely. A little too politely, if you know what I mean.
Then all of a sudden he looked at me and said, dead serious, “D’you really want to go back home?”
I was a little taken aback, and hesitated a little too long. He looked away. I sighed. “David,” I said quietly. “Tis only natural that I want to go home. I never wanted to be on this ship in the first place – I don’t mind now, I mean – and my family doesn’t know where I am or if I’m all right. I want to be with them, as much as I like being at sea.”
He looked at me and I could tell he understood. He grinned, looked down at the water. “Want to take a swim, mate?” I laughed, and shoved him gently.
Then we watched the horizon, silently together.
Few Days Later
Dear little book,
I can’t believe I have to wait at least another month until I get home. Most likely two. However, I think I can wait. I am not sure whether I am ready. Mama will be crying and exclaiming, and everything will be utter chaos. As much as I want to get home, I am feeling awkward at the thought of all the attention.
Even so… today is the twenty-ninth or possibly the thirtieth. I don’t know. It shall be at least September when I get back. Maybe later, because we will probably stop along the way. So probably October.
October. October. I can’t believe it.
Several Days Later
Dear little book,
Something horrible happened today. I know I have said that many times. But this was worse. The worst thing that has happened this whole time.
I was in the rigging this afternoon, and I heard a commotion on the deck below me. I swung down next to David and asked him what was going on. His face was grave, and he told me to go away. I was offended, and demanded why.
“Just go, Annie!” he said sharply, trying to push me aside, but I wouldn’t budge. I peered over the crew’s heads to see what was going on.
It was horrible.
A man had his back to us, and it was criss-crossed with bright red marks. Another man stood nearby, a long, horrible-looking whip in his hand. The man cried out as he was struck again.
I turned away, tears streaming down my face, saying, “Why, David? Why?”
He took me and hugged me, hiding my face, hiding the horrible image from my eyes. But it was – is – imprinted on my memory. I was crying, but David hugged me tight.
I still can see it.
It’s so cruel. Why? Why would they do something like that?
A Few Days Later
Dear little book,
I cannot forget what happened. I’m scared now of the captain. Was he drunk, to do something like this? It was so horrible. I cannot imagine anyone ever doing that to someone else, and yet they did.
It has struck me that I really am with men that can be cruel.
What am I to do?