A Pirate's Love

Drunken Sailors

"Can you tell me what you're going through?" Sam said with a slight crack in his voice. "I can only see how it torments you, but I don't know," he paused, noticing my body stiffening as he spoke. I took a deep breath, trying to find the words in my head. Only images flashed through my mind as I tried to think of where to start.

"I suppose," I started slowly, "I've been through too much to lose everything now. It's hard to say," I struggled to get out. My chest heaved out breaths involuntarily, causing Sam to pop off the cork of the bottle and pour the amber liquid into my glass.

"Elixir of truth," he jokingly broke the tension as he nudged the glass towards me, making me chuckle. I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip. The alcohol immediately seared my nostrils and warmed my esophagus as it went down, drying the inside of my mouth in the process. I winced at the bite of the strong drink but took another gulp, making my mind more numb to the chaos coursing through it. I paused to regather my thoughts, dwelling on the ones that felt more prominent.

"I've killed a man on The Funeral of Innocence," I said as I looked past Sam, deep in thought. "Two, actually," I remembered. "One was trying to capture me. I didn't know I killed him. The other one," I paused, "the other one was trying to hurt me. I knew I killed him. I had to kill him. I watched him die. I've been used, Sam. I didn't want to be used again." Sam picked up the glass at my words and took a sip, his face expressionless as he swallowed it down. I briefly panicked at his reaction, or rather, lack of reaction, desperately wondering what he was thinking. "Two more men will die," I said with grievance. My chest hurt at the thought.

"Not by your hands," Sam said softly as he set the glass down. He looked at me seriously, trying to make me believe him. "Not by your hands, Elenor. You didn't cause this."

"Still, it feels like it," I expressed, releasing an emotion that I didn't realize I was still holding onto. Sam shook his head silently, making his position clear. I knew he was right, that I did not cause any of this to happen. The results of the situation were due to years of complicated causations. I was not one of them. "He wants to die," I said quietly, hoping he had heard me.

"He's ready to die if he has to," Sam clarified. "He told me he has no regrets in his life, Elenor, and that includes bringing you home safely." I could only stare at him as he spoke, soaking in his words like a sponge. I wished Jake had told me himself, but I was grateful that Sam had revealed them. I took another long swig, numbing my mouth and making my head wobble.

"I need you to help me get my dress off," I said as I stood, "before I get too drunk to take it off." Sam blinked at me in disbelief, still leaning against the vanity.

"I'll get one of the ladies," he said calmly, slightly flinching.

"I don't want them," I said firmly, "all they do is try to make me presentable. I don't want to be presentable, Sam. I want to be honest." He stood there in hesitation, still debating what was moral. "Oh please, Sam, you've already seen me in a nightgown. At least unlace my corset and I'll do the rest," I urged. He stood, closed the door, and turned the lock, then faced me with apprehension in his eye. Ignoring him, I walked across the room and past the divider, then halted to wait for him as I looked behind me. He strode slowly towards me, his eyes fixed on my back. I removed the pins from the bodice and pushed off the sleeves as they came off, revealing the laces of the corset underneath. Sam quietly reached for the laces, briefly confused about where the ribbon was tied. His fingers began untying the knot between my shoulder blades, then slowly traveled down, removing the ribbon from each fasten carefully. He breathed deeply as he worked silently, taking his time. Finally, it was undone and taken off. Desperately wanting to get all of the layers off, I began untying the skirt, padding, pockets, and petticoats from my waist until I was in my undergarments. I put all the garments in a bundle on the floor, not caring about them getting wrinkled. I pulled off my stockings forcefully, then walked over to a dresser to put them away. I opened one of the drawers of the dresser and immediately stopped, stuck in my place. Neatly folded on top was the shirt Jake had given to me. I pulled it out and relished the clean fabric, brushing my fingers over the hand stitching on the sleeve.

"What is it?" Sam asked. I turned to him, not realizing he was still in view of me.

"My shirt," I said. "Jake's shirt," I corrected.

"Well, put in on, let's see it," he said with a smile, encouraging happy memories. I slid it over my head and on top of my undergarment. I didn't know whether it was the alcohol or stupidity, but I began to laugh at how long the sleeves were over my hands. I turned to Sam in a helpless state of foolishness, which he found quite amusing. "Ahoy there, Captain Blacksmoke," he said with an exaggerated pirate accent, "what be the trouble?"

"Bloody hell!" I exclaimed, "My bloody sleeves are too bloody long, you bloody bastard," I joked back gleefully, then felt a sudden twinge of regret at the mockery. Sam walked closer to me, then promptly began rolling up my sleeves as if I couldn't do it myself.

"There, there, Captain," he spoke with a smile, "go on and fetch your rum," he said as he finished with my sleeves. Feeling heavy, I strode to the vanity and picked up the bottle. I took a swig, the same bite and dryness hitting me all over. I took another swig, and then another, and then more until my arms and legs felt tingly. I set the bottle down, seeing how much I had drank, then wrapped my arms around myself, leaning my head on my shoulder. The sensation of the linen brought back memories I needed to remember. Memories of his gentleness and care, the way he knew what I was thinking before I did, the way the creases of his eyes would crinkle as he smiled, the way he would ask for permission, the way his arms felt around me, the way his lips felt across my skin, the way the weight of his body felt on top of mine. My body felt warm, weightless, and weighted at the same time. My eyes closed involuntarily as I struggled to keep them open. I swayed slightly, trying to keep my balance. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, steadying me. I looked over to see Sam take a swig from the bottle himself, chugging with big, long gulps. Unable to deny the way my body felt, I smiled at him and took his hand from my shoulder, then placed it around me in an embrace. He put down the bottle with a huff and wrapped both arms around me. He rested his chin on the top of my head, holding me close from behind. I soaked in his warmth, swaying with him as our bodies fell deeper into drunkenness.

"It's no use," I slurred out with a grin, my tongue numb. His arms felt heavy on mine, pushing me down.

"Hmm?" Sam let out with a rumble, his own giddiness present. I lazily pushed his arms off of me and stumbled to my neatly made bed, throwing myself on top of it in a heap.

"Bring the rum with you, Sammy," I let out, "I'm passing out in my bed tonight, not on the floor." I heard Sam shuffle things around on the vanity and then swear as I stared at my ceiling, making me chuckle.

"Way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises, early in the morning!" Sam began to sing and skip around the room, his voice and movements exaggerated in lunacy. "Shave his belly with a rusty razor, put him in– something– till he's sober, put him in bed with the captain's daughter, early in the morning!" He stumbled over the words as he combined all of the lyrics. He faltered to the side of the bed, sending us both into a bumbling laughter. He suddenly pulled off his shirt and flopped next to me on the bed, passing the bottle off to me. I took a drink until my whole face numbed, then set it aside. My vision spun terribly, yet I did not feel a thing. I brushed my fingers over my lips as they prickled, and I desperately wondered what it would feel like to kiss while drunk.

"Kiss me, Sam, I want to know what it feels like," I burst out, unable to control my filter.

"You're drunk," he whined.

"You're drunk," I argued, madly.

"I'm drunk," he agreed, sending us into another fit of laughter. He pulled the bottle away from me and drank again, sitting up as he did so. He passed it back to me, leaning over with eyes glazed over, urging me to drink more. Something about him looked more angelic than ever. His hair fell ever so slightly over his amber eyes, his mouth fairly parted. I marveled at his beauty as I took the bottle carefully from his hand and sat up. I knew I would regret everything the next day, yet I still drank more, losing control. My body numbed completely. My fingertips buzzed. All was forgotten from the past, and the present became a blur.