Broken Sails

Charlestown

I exited onto the main deck. The bright sunlight hurt my eyes, but I squinted upwards at the sky. Apart from a few scattered clouds, the weather was clear, but the weather was hardly my concern at the moment. I turned to look at the city lying ahead of us. As we were carefully approaching, we could now listen clearly, the sound of bells, echoing across the town, announcing our arrival to the rest of its residents. Bells; I used to welcome the sound. An image of my father popped up in my head, and so I began hearing the sleigh bells of my childhood again. This familiar melody accidently took me back to that time, many years ago, back to London, when my father and I would go to church almost every Sunday. It was snowing that day, and the overcast clouds moved about the sky swiftly, causing the sun to shine every few moments amidst the dimness. The cold streets of London were alive despite their dreary and lifeless appearance. I got closer to my father, my small, cold hand was clung into his. I raised my head to look at him; his blonde hair was now hidden under a white curly wig with a pony tail hanging behind, touching his silk and velvet waistcoat that matched his pants. I could remember every detail from this moment and yet the image of his face had somehow faded away throughout the years, leaving me with an incomplete memory. I got angry at myself, for I could no longer remember him as clearly as I wanted to. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be forgotten.
Another permeating sound of the bells ringing was all I needed to return to my conscious breathing and reality. In a few minutes Abigail along with my mother and Flint, would go ashore to meet with Lord Peter Ashe and rely both their lives, solely to his gratitude... The gratitude, of a man that hung pirates in the town's square. The more the seconds passed, the more I was starting to doubt this plan again.

My mother with Abigail appeared on the deck and I instinctively walked towards them. My mother grabbed the puffy dress around her legs, lifting it slightly so she doesn't get tangled and made a few steps in my direction. «It's all going to be alright Ophelia.» She had probably noticed the concern written on my face and tried to pacify me by giving me an encouraging smile. 

«Let me come with you» I made a last effort to persuade her but -as I had expected- she shook her head no. «You know this can't be done.» she wagged her finger. I lowered my head to her and observed as her hands moved towards the silver cross that was hanging around her neck. I noticed the slow rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took was becoming faster and I could feel her nervousness growing. Eventually, she wrapped her slim fingers around the cross and slowly, took it off. «Here» she said while handing it over to me. I held it in both hands, staring at it. It was silver with gold on the side with a tiny red stone in the middle. «You need it more than I do.» I looked up at her. She remained silent for a couple of seconds, looking at the shiny artifact. «Keep it.» I clenched it in my fists. When she looked up she smiled at me. Seeing my disappointed look, she immediatelyput her hands around me, pushing me close to her, until my head was touching her chest.  I could hear her nervous heartbeat along with her quick breathing; which made me realize, she was more nervous about this than I was. She was about to meet with Peter Ashe; a man she had not seen for over seventeen years. Would he remember them? Would he be willing to pardon them for all the piracy crimes that Flint had committed for the sake of his daughter's safe return? And the most important question, would he be willing to help them? Help us? «It is going to be alright» my mother's becalming voice reassured me, as if she was reading my mind. I closed my eyes for a minute, trying to calm myself. «It's all going to be alright.» she repeated, this time to herself. She placed her hand and gently touched my hair, leaning her head closer to mine. I couldn't help but have this strange feeling, no matter how many times my mother would say it out loud, she just could not make it go away. A feeling that something bad was going to happen. But then again, maybe that's just what it feels like when we are faced to carry out an almost impossible plan.

The time had come, when they were about to switch to the vessel, which would take them into the shallow harbor.

«I suppose this is farewell.» Abigail came from behind and unexpectedly stretched her hand out and held it in front of me.
«You take care, Abigail.» I shook her hand.
«You too.» she lowered her look. One could say she seemed actually sad for leaving. «I do hope our paths cross again, someday.» she continued.
«If you're lucky, they won't.» I said with a bittersweet smile. Abigail stifled a laugh and I did the same. We exchanged a last look before I turned my attention to the man standing behind her.

«I still think this is a terrible plan» I almost whispered, Flint looked at me and nodded agreeably .
«I know.» he said eventually.
«You better prove me wrong then.» I said while walking past him. Without expecting him to answer, I headed towards the main deck to have a clear view of their departure. 

Soon, a few more rowboats appeared, with the English colors. Taking one rowboat, Abigail, Flint and my mother along with other five colonial men left for shore. This was going to be a very long day... 

~

The night finally arrived. I had just finished lighting a lantern when Mr. Scott approached me. «You seem like you could use one» he said and offered me a cup of ale. The truth was that I could neither drink nor eat anything, not with a tension like that, twisting my stomach into knots. «I'm alright.» I politely refused with a gesture. He took a sip and placed his back against the railing of the ship.
«I must insist on the drink. I understand it must be hard for you, but try to relax. You're making the men nervous.» he paused «You are making me nervous.» He was quite right. Since Flint went ashore along with my mother, I kept having this strange feeling and the fact that we had yet to hear anything from them wasn't exactly comforting, on the contrary.
«I'm sorry. It is just... I am simply not very positive about all this.» Mr. Scott gave me a warm smile of understanding.
«I know. It's a risky plan. But it's all we've got, try to go along with it.» Soon a becalming melody coming from Mr. Kidd's violin filled my ears making my agony slowly fade away. Recently I found out that they had named him Mr. Kidd after the famous pirate Captain William Kidd, because people thought that they looked terribly alike. He's been having this nickname for so long now, I doubt that anyone from the crew actually knows his real name. At least no one knew it when I asked.

Everything went quiet after a while, and to my surprise, so did the men. The clarity and full rich tones coming from Mr. Kidd's instrument was the only thing to be heard on deck. I looked around; some of the men were smoking and talking, others faces were caught in reverie, some were sitting near Mr. Kidd enjoying his pure talent in music, O'Malley, the crew's Doctor, was sketching on a piece of paper, and others had already gone to sleep. As I was observing the men's activities this fine night, John Silver walked in front of me catching my eye. He stood next to a man which I immediately recognized; he was one of those men he had made the deal for the Urca gold. Their conversation didn't last long though; soon he left and headed inside the ship. I got up from my seat and decided to follow him. I went down the stairs and walked past some men who were sleeping in their hammocks. I looked around under the low lighting, but he was nowhere to be found, I assumed he must've gone to see Randal, the –real- cook, so I headed to the kitchen at the end of the hall. A variety of bronze, over-used pots and pans hanging low from beams close to each other, as a result to make a distinctive sound every time they would swing with the ship- it really made one wonder how the men could actually sleep under all this noise. The sound of the bronze metal hitting against each other increased when I got closer. I found Randal lying on the floor. «Randal?» I whispered his name, but he didn't respond. I got closer so he could see me, but his eyes were wide open, as if he was looking right through me. I tried to call out his name once more, but my mouth opened without making a sound as I realized that it was Randal's dead and soulless body lying at my feet in front of me. I took a few steps back, trying to distance myself from the sight. Before I could react any further, a hand covered my mouth. Too late to scream. But the scream built inside overinflating my lungs, I felt like my chest was going to burst. Explode with shock and fear. I punched and kicked, my foot hitting something hard, solid, muscular. The person grunted in pain but the hand only pushed me harder, until my back touched someone else's chest. I was finally able to turn around, only to see John Silver's face. He dropped the hand around my mouth cautiously and placed his finger in front of his lips telling me to be silent. «Who did this to Randall?» I whispered trying to hide the panic from my voice. He didn't answer, soon we heard footsteps approaching and we quickly hid ourselves in the corner, quietly waiting for them to pass us.