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The storm they were in the middle of was rough. Clara had been in a few storms before, but never in the middle of the sea on a ship. The waves were large and unrelenting as the ship rocked back and forth, coming dangerously close to the water's surface. The moment thunder struck the surface, Jack grabbed her and, without so much as a struggle from his end, shoved her into the Captain's cabin.
More dark waves crashed into the glass, threatening to shatter it and surge forth, flooding the room. Shouts and yells were heard as the crew tried to tie the sails down, mixing with the harrowing wind. The storm had come upon them fast.
The ship tilted right and Clara held on to the desk but she found herself losing her grip as things started to fall from the table and shelves. Glaring at the door, the young woman stumbled her way to it, angry at the thought that Jack would keep her behind lock and key.
She turned the handle, only to find that that was what he did exactly. She shook the door and banged on it, yelling to let her out and help, but it was in vain, no one would be able to hear her through such wind and rain.
The ship bobbed violently forward, cutting through the ocean like a knife, only to be tossed backward again. Clara was not expecting such a force as she wrestled with her hair, trying to put out the pin that kept it up. Losing her footing, she smacked her head against the door and then fell backward, thankfully landing on the carpet. But the damage was already done. As she stood back up, the world spun, and it made her panic. This dizziness was much different than that caused by the storm.
Clara was seeing double as she reached for the doorknob, only to find she could for she was seeing double. She couldn't have hit her head that hard, could she? With her head pounding, she sunk to the floor. Black spots dotted her already dark vision, and soon she found herself slipping into unconsciousness, the only light coming from the lamp chained to the wall.
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The storm had finally calmedand Will could leave his post. Going up the steps of the helm two at a time, he came up to Jack, who was still at the wheel. "Jack, where's Clara?"
Not looking up from his compass, he muttered, "In her cabin."
Will skipped the stairs this time and leaped over the rail, landing before the cabin's door. He was worried, something did not feel right. The storm had passed completely about twenty minutes prior and Clara was nowhere in sight - she loved the rain. Knocking on the door, he waited patiently but no answer came. Stepping back so he could see up the helm, he called on Jack. "She's not answering."
"Well, then, be a good lad and unlock it." The pirate tossed the key down and Will caught it before glancing up at Jack, confused as to why he would have it and not Clara.
Sighing, Will did as Jack said and quietly stepped inside. "Clara?" He had opened the door halfway only for it to push back, something was behind it. Stepping over a book and glancing around the messy room, he found the girl laying on the floor. He shook his head, smirking to himself, thinking she had fallen asleep. But when he went to wake her and she did not stir, he began to worry.
The sun was starting to break through, casting a beam of light over Clara. Noticing that her hair was matted, he brushed it away from her face, only to find a large cut stretched across her temple, blood slowly dripping from it and pooling on the floor.
His heart racing faster than it did during the storm, Will picked her up and brought her outside, stopping in front of the helm's stairs again. "Jack!" was all he could say.
The Captain looked down without care but in the blink of an eye that all changed. Calling Anamaria over, he gave her the wheel and quickly met the boy on the main. "What happened?" he asked sharply, a hand ghosting over Clara's hair.
"She must have hit her head-"
"Well, that much is obvious," grumbled Jack. He felt a body brush past his and he turned finding Ana's sister - he had yet to learn her name. She was closely examining Clara, a finger dabbing along the edge of the gash. "What are you doing?"
The girl glanced up at him. "I am checking her wound." Surveying her a moment longer, the woman nodded and turned away. "Bring her to your cabin, I will be with you shortly."
Sharing a look, the two men filed into the cabin, not bothering to shut the door. As Will laid her down on the bed, the unnamed girl came rushing in, a basket of supplies on her arm and a pitcher of water in hand.
She took a cloth from the basket and dunked it in the water, dabbing at the wound to clean it before pulling out a bottle of rum.
"What are you doing with that?!"
She looked at Jack. "I'm sterilizing the wound. Have you never done that, I thought you were a pirate?"
"I am, but I ain't no doctor."
"Well, now you are." Shoving the bottle at him, she focused back on the girl. "There."
"Will she be alright?" asked Will, eyes wide.
"Oh, yes, I have seen this many times before, she just needs rest and time. She is lucky that it wasn't more serious."
"Thank you, uh . . ."
"Catalina. And you are very welcome. Now-" she gestured to the door. "-shall we?"
Catalina. It was a beautiful name, not that that surprised Jack, as most Spaniards' names were. However, she was an odd woman. The past week had been spent watching her as she gallivanted about his hip, doing things some of the men struggled to do. Both her sister and she were headstrong and capable, and they held up their ends well during the storm. The two were so similar that he often mistook one for the other, but he soon remembered that Catalina was much shorter and prone to wearing a petticoat or two, instead of breaches, not that he was complaining, it was a lovely view whenever she climbed the rigging.
However, there was something much different about her than Anamaria or any of the other girls he had been with. There was a mischievous gleam in her eyes that he had seen only one other time: in himself. For all the ways they seemed different, they were quite similar. And it frightened the Captain, for a woman as crazy as him to be aboard would most definitely end in bedlam. Taking a swing of the rum she gave him, he took one last look at Clara and left.
