The Great Escape - Chapter 6
Title: The Great Escape
Chapter: Chapter 6 - The Pirate Camp
Author: stealmybike
Pairing: Young Teague, Samhra (Jack's mum), Sao Feng, previous Brethren Court Pirate Lords, young Jack Sparrow (eventually).
Rating: T for adult content and violence.
Summary: A woman deeply oppressed by her culture, chooses the path of freedom. Unwilling to let go of the hope that her Songsmith would return to her, she is finally set free to live a life on the run, alongside the Pirate Lord of Madagascar.
A/N: I created this tale after writing a one-shot for a collaboration entitled Mother's of the Caribbean some years ago. I had some readers pushing me to expand on the story, so here's the end result! I'd like to thank my current beta ShahbanouScheherazade for bringing out the best in this chapter. I can't thank you enough!
Prelude: MoTC: Jack Sparrow's Mum
Chapter 1: The Return
Chapter 2: The Rogue
Chapter 3: The Treasure
Chapter 4: The Empress
Chapter 5: The Law of the Sea
~o~
Chapter 6: The Pirate Camp
~o~
The sun burst over the eastern horizon, painting brilliant colors where the sky met the distant lands, yielding a new day. A light breeze wafted around the bustling crew on deck, bringing the fresh, familiar smell of the salty sea. Within two days of encountering the junk ship, they had finally arrived at Madagascar.
Two days at sea had given the crew time to rest and compose themselves. It was a bright day, with just enough wind to move them along at a comfortable pace. Off the starboard side, the green shoreline was just visible. But it was much too early in the day to sneak into the cove without being seen. The Misty Lady sailed in circles, towing the Empress behind. Every eye and ear was alert to detect the approach of any Company vessels.
Samhra's mind was circling too, and she hadn't slept. Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes on to the mattress beneath her. She turned to face its cool, muffling softness and bit her lip, not wanting anyone to know that she was crying. So much had happened in the last few days, and it was all so extraordinary, that she kept reviewing it, wondering what would come next. It didn't make sense to her. She felt uncomfortable with Teague: who he was, what he had failed to tell her, and even worse, the fact that he had not sought her out since Sao Feng's arrival, were all cause for concern.
All last night, she had lain awake, staring at the ceiling as she remembered the feel of his lips. And she knew she should have been ashamed and horrified by her behavior. She was always proper and reserved - never had she considered behaving recklessly with any man. This was something entirely different: some impulse had taken hold of her, imploring her to act rashly. She wanted so badly to touch him again. She wanted to know him, understand his thoughts and crawl beneath his skin.
Her thoughts burned; she felt amazed and alarmed. But they remained.
She was confined to her cabin - Cap'n's orders, was Reynolds' curt explanation some nights ago as he placed a bowl of food at the edge of her bed. He seemed different - cold and distant; so much so that Samhra questioned whether she had turned from guest to captive.
Perhaps he didn't want her to know of his pirate side for fear that it would scare her away. The heat, the life, the almost violent promise within his pulse…
And she was scared.
But she still wanted his touch.
~o~
At dawn, Teague guided the Lady towards a sheltered, deep-water bay called Keyhole Cove, which was protected from the open sea by two high promontories. The larger of these was a bluff that offered a natural refuge for pirates, stolen booty and all. Both rocky outcroppings encircled the cove, which was closed to the sea except for an inlet at its southeastern corner. This entrance - a narrow channel flanked by hidden reefs that lay under the waters on either side - was not readily visible from the ocean, and culminated in a sharp turn into the shelter of the cove. For any large hulled ship, entry to the cove was perilous even at high tide, for navigating through the inlet risked dashing the vessel on the fearsome rocks which protected it. To approach the cove with a vessel in tow required excellent pilotage skills, a very high tide, and a good measure of luck. Teague had anchored here often, and had no reservations about navigating the channel again.
Further concealment from the ocean was provided by a strategically placed boot-shaped knuckle of land just off the coast, densely covered with trees.
Teague stood upon the quarterdeck with spyglass in hand, casting an eye over the wide white beach along Madagascar's coast as they slowly approached the channel. Seagulls cawed, seemingly happy in the distance, and the breeze gently ruffled the trees on shore. He swung his spyglass up and squinted through it, taking in the cliff-top heights and the dark green hills beyond. Between the cliffs was the calm channel of clear green water that bent back hard behind it. Even as close as they were to it, it was hard to make out the opening because of the encompassing overgrowth of the island's grey-green scrubs. The Cove was like a hidden, secret passage.
In the pirate realm, young Edward Teague had grown to be an utterly fearless, powerful, vicious Pirate Lord. He led a ship full of bloodthirsty pirates who willingly gave him their fierce, steadfast loyalty. There was no doubt that Teague's reputation as a bold and valiant commander was greatly enhanced by his fair-mindedness and strong knowledge of sail and navigation. It was good business for a pirate to cultivate such talents, for an evil reputation could only go so far. It was as if he was primed in the art of captaining, but he trusted very few men, one of them being Bloodbath. His trust in Bloodbath's resolute character and ability as First Mate was unwavering.
Bloodbath had proven himself from the moment of their first meeting, nearly eleven years ago. Teague had been a young pirate, green as grass, who trusted too easily. He had accepted a tip on a shipment of valuables being transported to Duchess Something-or-other at her estate in Cornwall, and he went alone, following up the lead by himself. That's how he found himself hunkered down between two rocks on a hillside, firing at two unknown men who were lying in wait to ambush him. As good a shot as he was, the men were on higher ground, with an excellent view of his position and were able to keep him pinned down.
Shots ricocheting off his covering of rocks sent fragments flying around him. Several came too close for comfort when he exposed himself long enough to get in a few good shots of his own. One shot grazed his arm but did little damage. He was thankful when another man rode in to take up a position several hundred feet from his own, putting his adversaries in somewhat of a crossfire.
Matthew "Bloodbath" Harlow, aged twenty-three and experienced beyond his years, arrived just in time to save nineteen year old Edward Teague's life. It hadn't taken the two ambushers long to figure out there were two accurate lines of fire coming their way. The attackers chose the better part of valor by hightailing it to the south.
Teague and Bloodbath had enjoyed a close friendship ever since.
Aboard the Empress, Bloodbath stood at the helm, ordering Finnegan to climb up the junk's mast as his lookout. Regardless of his disagreements with the young lad, Finnegan had a sharp eye and there was no better man for the task. Shortly, Teague would be turning his vessel sharply to starboard and, with guidance from the Powers, they would safely run the Empress aground on the beach at the farthest end of the Cove. Although it was clear that most of the Chinese crew was reluctant, there was little that they could do to save their damaged vessel. They needed food, drink, and wood to repair the bamboo battens - they needed the Lady.
As both of his hands gripped the wheel handles, Bloodbath recalled the many times they had sailed this route. It was a simpler time - a time when he and Teague never dreamed of being respected pirates.
I'm a terrible pirate, a younger, more naïve Teague would declare. You were always a much better pirate than me.
It was true for a time, but they were both rubbish pirates - with their lumbering lack of coordination, inability to tie proper knots, and their famous reputation for hiding their treasure and forgetting where they'd left it.
Nevertheless, he didn't want to see his young friend upset. Pfft, I've made a few mistakes myself. Bloodbath would say to console him, being a bit worse for wear from all the rum. Like that time I let a cannibal join the crew, and that other time I said, 'Well I don't see any hurricane.' I'm not perfect. They would laugh until the drink wouldn't allow them to stand any longer.
How time had changed them both… especially Teague. He had changed his principles, as many Lords before him had done. It was power that was the attraction. Teague accepted his status and command with memorable words: I dipped my hands in murky waters, and if a pirate I must be, 'tis better to be a Lord, than a common man.
The years that came after that moment had brought them many adventures. They led groups of men on attacks along the coast of Portugal. He brought their first ship, the Aurora, in as close as possible to the Torre de Belémin, Lisbon in order to provide covering fire and, with cannon balls flying overhead, Teague and his men had charged the ramparts. The pirates managed to break through the main entrance - only to find the Tower deserted. The Portuguese soldiers had abandoned their posts and fled into town.
That night, the pirates set fire to the surrounding fort. Many wanted to burn the town itself. But it was then, for the first time, that Teague exerted his authority. The town was protected by a long expanse of shallow water and was out of range of the Aurora's guns. It was also surrounded by thick forests which would provide cover for defenders. The pirates would inevitably sustain casualties for little gain, Teague argued. And his sensible advice prevailed. But still, they loaded around a dozen cannon on to a smaller boat and gave themselves the partial satisfaction of destroying several houses. Then, with the night falling, they set two Portuguese ships alight and sailed out of the harbor by the light of the flames. It was less than two weeks since they'd first arrived.
It was that raid that made him realize that Teague was a changed man; a leader, a man worth following.
And so he did.
Within moments, the cautious, slow-travelling ships began to thread their way through the reefs. The crew of the Empress fell silent as Finnegan began signaling directions to the helm, and with each gesture, Bloodbath steered the ship on proper course.
Aboard the Lady, Teague began the Lady's turn to starboard as she cleared the entrance to the Cove, and the Empress began to swing to port on her tow line. Blood bath quickly adjusted her rudder, bringing her back in line with the Lady before the junk's momentum could carry her into the rocky shoreline.
Once the ships made the turn, a bit of tension fell away from Teague's shoulders, but not for long; he needed to make more sail to gain a bit of speed and steer towards the far shore, where the wide, sandy beach lay. As the Lady approached the shore, Teague ordered the anchor to be heaved, the cable tautened, and all canvas dropped. As she swung on her shortened cable, the Lady released the tow line.
Slowly, the Empress' momentum carried her past the Lady's stern, and gently grounded her in the shallow waters of the sandy shore.
A small group of Teague's crew jumped into the longboat and began preparing the Lady for mooring. Knowing that time was of the essence, the mooring lines were set without delay to secure the Lady and prevent her from swinging on her anchor cable.
With the wind blowing strongly, Teague watched as the crew prepared the longboat to go ashore. Exhaustion began to settle in, but he knew that he wouldn't find repose until Samhra was safe. He instinctively focused on the Empress in the distance. It was a relief to see that she was successfully beached as the tide ebbed but, at the same time, he feared what would happen if Sao Feng found her. Teague had witnessed the brothels in Singapore first hand, and did not wish that fate upon Samhra. Turning again to shore, he watched his men disappear with provisions beyond the dense barrier of broadleaf ferns and palm trees screening the far shore from view.
After a brief moment of gathering his thoughts and breath, he turned to greet Reynolds with a severe stare. "She must not be seen."
~o~
Time had stopped. She could see it flowing somewhere very far away, perhaps outside. The ship had become still some time ago, but she could feel the Lady lifting and falling, over and over again. The slow, gentle swaying motions rocked her quietly, almost politely; it was consoling, even personal. The rhythmic movement seemed to calm her troubled mind, even if only for a moment.
There was no light in her cabin, and her eyes grew heavy as she played with the edges of her gifted silver brush, relying only on touch to guide her fingers along the cool metal. Time was moving somewhere, but not inside her. Inside her, time had stopped. She couldn't feel anything, couldn't do anything.
Thoughts of nothing immediately turned to thoughts of her Edward, but she pushed him from her mind. There was a great, invisible bolster thrust between them, and she had never felt so lonely and cold. It was incomprehensible that her life in Tanjavur was over. Everything she knew there had been burned to the ground. She almost burst into tears at the thought. If it weren't all so bizarre, she'd feel like the biggest fool in the world, but she didn't know what to think. Maybe it was the fact that his eyes looked so kind; so trusting, and nothing like her monstrous husband.
Perhaps it was all a lie. Perhaps everything that had been instilled in her upbringing was an elaborate ploy to divert her from the truth. But she had undergone so much abuse that she could no longer decipher what the truth really was and what real love should feel like.
She turned onto her side and closed her eyes. Minutes passed, and she was wide-awake. She turned onto her other side, then her back. Sighing, she touched the crust forming on her lower lip from the monster's blow, and squeezed her eyes closed. Nothing was working. Finally she sat up, feeling most unlike herself.
In her tossing and turning, her hair had come loose from her braid and tumbled over her shoulder. She thrust it away from her face, and fixed her eyes on the light that illuminated the outline of her doorway.
What she had come to realize was that she was more insulted than anything that Teague had deceived her with such a lie. How could he kiss her while playing her like a fool? She decided that she hated him. The wretched vermin! Wretched, wretched vermin! The thought made her fume. The insult did little to relieve her anger; she punched the mattress, hoping it would make her feel better.
She took in a few deep breaths, attempting to regain some sort of tranquility. Perhaps one should not judge, she thought after a moment. The typical pirate, showing up at her door, should have raped, plundered and murdered her, but Teague had not done so. Even though he had led a cruel life of disease, danger and death it had not made him hard-hearted.
Her internal ruminating was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. She huddled in the corner with unreasoning fear as her door flew open.
Teague moved fast; walking in, he took his coat off. "Samhra, we must go. Quickly," he spoke softly.
She was speechless for a moment. He was dressed strangely, all in black, even his shirt-he seemed to snuff himself out like a light. Around his neck, he wore a black bandana; her gaze fell on it. It was silk. She wondered if the skin it concealed was as smooth has the material.
What was she thinking?
A moment later, she felt his cheek grazing hers in the darkness as he wrapped the coat around her shoulders. She eyed him warily, gazing at the dull outline of his face; his dark eyes invisible in the shadows. Her mind flashed back to the kiss they had shared only a few days ago.
Sighing, she pulled her eyes away from the man who had bothered her sleep for so many nights. "Are you a pirate?" she asked, with a measure of apprehension, praying that her Songsmith would quell her doubts and insecurities.
Teague appeared stunned, if the bemused expression on his face was the correct indicator of his emotions. The importance of his surroundings slowly sank in. "We don't have time-"
Samhra could see his thoughts chasing one another across his face. "You are a pirate!" she accused, pulling away from his grasp. "I heard them say you were a pirate."
In one swift motion, Teague removed his shirt and caught Samhra's hand in the darkness. He pressed it against an oddly shaped scar on his chest. At first, his rashness made her apprehensive, but curiosity took hold of her fingers, and they traced the edges of the scar slowly, carefully. Finally, she recognized the shape - she had outlined a medium sized letter "P".
"What did you think I was?" His tone was harsh and inimical, and he fixed his eyes on Samhra in a strange, scornful glare. "What does it change? Would you have come if I had told you?"
The silence that filled the room clearly unnerved him; his breath came harshly. "You have your answer," he said, sounding crushed. Then he rose to his feet and reached down to scoop her up into his arms.
Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Where are you taking me?" she asked nervously, feeling her pulse quicken. "Are you going to hurt me?"
For a moment, he looked as if he was considering the notion, but then he whispered, "If I intended to hurt you, I would have done so already. Be still, we haven't much time to waste."
~o~
With lanterns in hand, Bloodbath and Reynolds quietly led the way across the wide expanse of beach. Teague followed close behind, eyes darting in every direction. The jungle was alive; rich and lush in life and noise, colorful birds and monkeys called out to them from the trees rustling in the breeze. He tightened his grip on the woman in his arms, offering her protection from the new, strange noises. Samhra nestled her face upon his shoulder, against the warmth of his chest while his arms tensed protectively around her. The group moved like the wind until they came to a slipway of sorts, made of splintered wooden boards, which lead to a pathway up the cliff ahead.
Parts of the trail were washed away from rushing flood waters, and all of it was overhung by vegetation. The steps cut into the cliff were shallow and wide, their edges reinforced by roughhewn stones and thick planks. As they walked, Reynolds made sure to mark the way, so the crew would know their route when it was time to return to the Lady.
Teague carried her carefully up the steps into the forest, and for a time, everything was silent and dark. The air was a little warmer there; the ocean breeze barely penetrating the thick surrounding foliage.
It was a good night for reconnaissance. What little moon there was sat low in the night sky and was partially obscured by clouds. Every so often, Teague stopped to let her stretch her legs, and then gathered Reynolds and Bloodbath close together for a quick briefing. They spoke in low whispers. Curious, she moved in. It looked as though they were plotting something, she thought. But gradually, she had simply given up on her endless speculating and just concentrated on each moment. Life had begun to take on an element of unreality for her, for the events in the past few days had become too hard to handle.
It was strange, too, how she caught herself looking around for Teague, making sure he was near. She felt like a child, too young to explore without her parents. But she didn't speak to him. She stood there and looked at him, trying to figure out what to do next.
Around them, the forest seemed alive. Sudden snapping of branches and snagging vines and leaves, with invisible insects that buzz and swoop. The noise was constant, and the heat rose and fell. She had never been alone, not once, in her life, and now she was completely alone, in a company of utter strangers.
A few moments passed until Teague eased over to her, bent down, and pulled her into his arms again. She panicked internally. Like a trapped animal pacing behind bars, her mind weaved back and forth. She was caged in trees and heat.
She kicked her feet in the air as Teague lifted her, looking to him for a measure of comfort. "I've got you, love," he whispered next to her ear. Even then, he only spoke to her when the others could not hear. Otherwise, he ignored her. Perhaps it was an act. The man who saved her from certain death? That man had adored her. And yet, he had changed completely since that day. Filled with confusion, anticipation, and dread, she began to cry again. Within moments, she felt his cheek on her forehead, and she softly nuzzled her head down onto his shoulder as he held her.
Even in her weakened state, Samhra was startled by the intensity of his sharp black eyes that studied her closely. But despite the strength and power that radiated from his presence, he didn't frighten her. To the contrary, every instinct told her that he was the man that would keep her safe. For some reason, as she melted into his embrace, she trusted him - pirate or not. He was human; he cared for her, and everything about him seemed to suggest it.
All at once, she saw what she hadn't seen before. It was like suddenly noticing a magician's bluff - that trick of the eye - a form of misdirection in which a larger action hides a smaller one. It was a ruse, the way he ignored her. Oh, not to fool her, she now realized, but to fool them. To fool Sao Feng. With that revelation, the tears stopped, and she finally found comfort in his arms. But there was one last question that plagued her.
Why?
Teague looked down; noticing Samhra had cried herself to sleep. Her dark hair hung in damp tendrils around her petite face, and her cheeks were stained with tears. His arms were tired, but he held the sleeping woman tightly with purpose.
As they continued to toil up the slope, Bloodbath took the lead, slashing a path through the undergrowth with his cutlass while Reynolds brought up the rear. They assured the village was close by, and they knew their way quite well.
The pirates inhabited a well-hidden campsite in the center of the rocky bluff that overlooked the eastern coast of the country. There, sheer cliffs crashed to pummel the rocky shore below. To the west rose stands of tall trees, whose blackened silhouettes glowed silver in the moonlight.
Before the Company raids, there had been a small, thriving settlement there, with some houses and farmers. But the first contingent of thirty men, under the command of one George Beckett, a bold and profligate fellow, had landed and entered without opposition, set fire to the town, and tumbled their supplies into the sea.
The arrival of pirates on cutters at this long-abandoned town led to reconstruction of some buildings. There were certainly a few houses in reasonable condition, including one which they had converted into a tavern, of course; but there was barely enough accommodation for both crews. Sails had to be brought ashore from abandoned ships, and makeshift shelters were constructed in the surrounding area.
As Teague's party approached the summit, boisterous voices and foreign music began to fill the silent void of the mountaintop. Bloodbath took the lead, making sure that the area was clear of blackguards before accompanying Teague and Samhra to the tent furthest from the crew's campfire.
When they reached the shelter, Teague carried the young woman through the flap door and, with great care, placed her on some loose blankets in the middle of the spacious interior. His fingers deftly loosed the ties that held her long, braided tresses. Reynolds had gone to fetch a pail of clear water from the camp, which Teague used to gently clean Samhra's lip wound. Finally, he covered the length of her body with a light blanket and sat beside her. Silently, he gazed at her, listening to the even sound of her breaths. He found himself gripped by possessiveness, and an overwhelming need to protect her from anyone or anything that might bring her harm.
He stayed at her side for a few more moments, letting his eyes grow heavy, until he decided it was time for him to go rejoin his men. But as he began to rise, Samhra stirred and her long, black eyelashes fluttered. With all the energy she possessed, she gently seized his shirtsleeve. "Stay with me? Please, don't go," she pleaded in a raspy voice.
Without a word, he obliged, lying down beside her and she instantly curled up against him. She felt him wrap his arms around her as she laid her head on his chest. She did not resist. Perhaps she was too tired, or didn't care any longer. The only thing that made sense to her was his warmth; she needed it, craved it.
Her eyes were closed, but her hand found his face, his chin, his eyes, his ears, his lips… she needed his lips. She felt his breath on her face, and breathed in the air he exhaled - his breath was her breath. Her Edward was alive; she was alive. She was no longer crying; she was no longer cold.
Overcome by fatigue, she sank into his embrace, until she relaxed and fell asleep.
~o~
For several hours, Samhra was in a deep and dreamless sleep. In the dead of night, she awoke, startled, feeling a weight on her chest and, fearfully, she gazed at her unfamiliar surroundings. Suddenly, she became aware that something was observing her, something with eyes, something with hot breath, and something with a large tongue. Blinking, panting, and drooling with his tongue hanging from one side of his jaw, sat Rogue, who looked quite comfortable indeed.
Brushing the corners of her eyes and trying to focus, she reached out to where Teague lay beside her, but he was no longer there. She sighed. "What a surprise," she whispered to herself.
Playfully, she scratched behind the small pup's ear. "How is it that you and I always end up together?" He whimpered a small response, cocking his head to one side.
"Are you my protector?" she asked, tenderly cupping her hands around the pup's head.
Rogue huffed, as if he replied, Well, of course I am! He stood up on her chest and turned around to face the opening of the tent. Then, he gently settled back down - leaving Samhra with the not-so-agreeable view of his shaggy arse.
She turned her head to avoid the occasional wag of her guard dog's tail and spotted something curious beside her. Further inspection revealed it to be two piles of clothing. In one lay the golden-colored saris Teague gifted to her the day the Empress was spotted on the horizon. They were neatly folded and well taken care of. The other consisted of a pile of black garments - a loose shirt, men's pants and a black, silk bandana - carelessly tossed in a heap beside the flap.
Gently, she patted Rogue's hips until he reluctantly let her rise. He huffed again, obviously annoyed with her sudden willingness to move. It seemed as though the slope between her chest and stomach was a very comfortable place to stand guard.
Rogue followed her inquisitively, as she crawled to the mounds of clothing, finding a new home in her lap as she picked up a sari. Rogue sniffed it for a few moments before settling his head down on her leg.
Samhra managed a weak smile as she recalled her childhood home in Tanjavur. It was warm, familiar, beautiful, and feminine. Her mind wandering over her childhood, when she had hoped for such great things: she would marry a prince, live in a castle, and be someone special. But marriage and servitude was what was expected of her. She recalled how her mother would proudly declare that she'd make a fine wife one day.
Wife, she thought, frowning.
Her mother was always on about the evils of dreaming, but she never could see it. Her dreams were still her own. She could have been anyone, rich or poor, plain or pretty, clever or stupid.
Her delicate fingers artfully traced the smooth floral patterns as beautiful memories turned sour at the recollection of her abusive, deceased husband.
Widow, she corrected.
Her expression changed, andRogue looked at her with his big, brown, concerned eyes. What's wrong? He let out a small whine and licked her arm, hoping to mend her broken spirit.
"Who am I?" she asked him. Rogue's head tilted, listening to her intently. The question surprised her, for she had never considered it. Her life was laid out before her when she was born. Why would she question it?
I'm a murderer. A criminal. An escapee. The shunned daughter of a prestigious family, she listed in her thoughts. All things true. Absentmindedly, she ran her tongue over her parched lips and wound.
The memories of that night played over again in her mind:
The gunshot.
The scream.
The blood pooling beside her.
The monster - dead.
And Teague standing before her as her savior.
As her thoughts shifted, she put the garment down, smoothing out its edges, and let out a small sigh. Tanjavur was gone - a thing of the past. That chapter of her life was over.
Moving on, she picked up Teague's discarded shirt and held it up to her nose.
I could be a pirate's captive…
Inhaling deeply, she filled her lungs with his scent. The thought of him made her smile for the first time in days. She held the garment against her, studying its size.
"Or," she thought aloud, smiling at the revelation, "a pirate's love."
Rogue barked as he nuzzled his way under the black garment. He was beginning to look quite restless. She patted his scruffy little head. "Would you like to go for a walk?"
Chapter: Chapter 6 - The Pirate Camp
Author: stealmybike
Pairing: Young Teague, Samhra (Jack's mum), Sao Feng, previous Brethren Court Pirate Lords, young Jack Sparrow (eventually).
Rating: T for adult content and violence.
Summary: A woman deeply oppressed by her culture, chooses the path of freedom. Unwilling to let go of the hope that her Songsmith would return to her, she is finally set free to live a life on the run, alongside the Pirate Lord of Madagascar.
A/N: I created this tale after writing a one-shot for a collaboration entitled Mother's of the Caribbean some years ago. I had some readers pushing me to expand on the story, so here's the end result! I'd like to thank my current beta ShahbanouScheherazade for bringing out the best in this chapter. I can't thank you enough!
Prelude: MoTC: Jack Sparrow's Mum
Chapter 1: The Return
Chapter 2: The Rogue
Chapter 3: The Treasure
Chapter 4: The Empress
Chapter 5: The Law of the Sea
~o~
Chapter 6: The Pirate Camp
~o~
The sun burst over the eastern horizon, painting brilliant colors where the sky met the distant lands, yielding a new day. A light breeze wafted around the bustling crew on deck, bringing the fresh, familiar smell of the salty sea. Within two days of encountering the junk ship, they had finally arrived at Madagascar.
Two days at sea had given the crew time to rest and compose themselves. It was a bright day, with just enough wind to move them along at a comfortable pace. Off the starboard side, the green shoreline was just visible. But it was much too early in the day to sneak into the cove without being seen. The Misty Lady sailed in circles, towing the Empress behind. Every eye and ear was alert to detect the approach of any Company vessels.
Samhra's mind was circling too, and she hadn't slept. Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes on to the mattress beneath her. She turned to face its cool, muffling softness and bit her lip, not wanting anyone to know that she was crying. So much had happened in the last few days, and it was all so extraordinary, that she kept reviewing it, wondering what would come next. It didn't make sense to her. She felt uncomfortable with Teague: who he was, what he had failed to tell her, and even worse, the fact that he had not sought her out since Sao Feng's arrival, were all cause for concern.
All last night, she had lain awake, staring at the ceiling as she remembered the feel of his lips. And she knew she should have been ashamed and horrified by her behavior. She was always proper and reserved - never had she considered behaving recklessly with any man. This was something entirely different: some impulse had taken hold of her, imploring her to act rashly. She wanted so badly to touch him again. She wanted to know him, understand his thoughts and crawl beneath his skin.
Her thoughts burned; she felt amazed and alarmed. But they remained.
She was confined to her cabin - Cap'n's orders, was Reynolds' curt explanation some nights ago as he placed a bowl of food at the edge of her bed. He seemed different - cold and distant; so much so that Samhra questioned whether she had turned from guest to captive.
Perhaps he didn't want her to know of his pirate side for fear that it would scare her away. The heat, the life, the almost violent promise within his pulse…
And she was scared.
But she still wanted his touch.
~o~
At dawn, Teague guided the Lady towards a sheltered, deep-water bay called Keyhole Cove, which was protected from the open sea by two high promontories. The larger of these was a bluff that offered a natural refuge for pirates, stolen booty and all. Both rocky outcroppings encircled the cove, which was closed to the sea except for an inlet at its southeastern corner. This entrance - a narrow channel flanked by hidden reefs that lay under the waters on either side - was not readily visible from the ocean, and culminated in a sharp turn into the shelter of the cove. For any large hulled ship, entry to the cove was perilous even at high tide, for navigating through the inlet risked dashing the vessel on the fearsome rocks which protected it. To approach the cove with a vessel in tow required excellent pilotage skills, a very high tide, and a good measure of luck. Teague had anchored here often, and had no reservations about navigating the channel again.
Further concealment from the ocean was provided by a strategically placed boot-shaped knuckle of land just off the coast, densely covered with trees.
Teague stood upon the quarterdeck with spyglass in hand, casting an eye over the wide white beach along Madagascar's coast as they slowly approached the channel. Seagulls cawed, seemingly happy in the distance, and the breeze gently ruffled the trees on shore. He swung his spyglass up and squinted through it, taking in the cliff-top heights and the dark green hills beyond. Between the cliffs was the calm channel of clear green water that bent back hard behind it. Even as close as they were to it, it was hard to make out the opening because of the encompassing overgrowth of the island's grey-green scrubs. The Cove was like a hidden, secret passage.
In the pirate realm, young Edward Teague had grown to be an utterly fearless, powerful, vicious Pirate Lord. He led a ship full of bloodthirsty pirates who willingly gave him their fierce, steadfast loyalty. There was no doubt that Teague's reputation as a bold and valiant commander was greatly enhanced by his fair-mindedness and strong knowledge of sail and navigation. It was good business for a pirate to cultivate such talents, for an evil reputation could only go so far. It was as if he was primed in the art of captaining, but he trusted very few men, one of them being Bloodbath. His trust in Bloodbath's resolute character and ability as First Mate was unwavering.
Bloodbath had proven himself from the moment of their first meeting, nearly eleven years ago. Teague had been a young pirate, green as grass, who trusted too easily. He had accepted a tip on a shipment of valuables being transported to Duchess Something-or-other at her estate in Cornwall, and he went alone, following up the lead by himself. That's how he found himself hunkered down between two rocks on a hillside, firing at two unknown men who were lying in wait to ambush him. As good a shot as he was, the men were on higher ground, with an excellent view of his position and were able to keep him pinned down.
Shots ricocheting off his covering of rocks sent fragments flying around him. Several came too close for comfort when he exposed himself long enough to get in a few good shots of his own. One shot grazed his arm but did little damage. He was thankful when another man rode in to take up a position several hundred feet from his own, putting his adversaries in somewhat of a crossfire.
Matthew "Bloodbath" Harlow, aged twenty-three and experienced beyond his years, arrived just in time to save nineteen year old Edward Teague's life. It hadn't taken the two ambushers long to figure out there were two accurate lines of fire coming their way. The attackers chose the better part of valor by hightailing it to the south.
Teague and Bloodbath had enjoyed a close friendship ever since.
Aboard the Empress, Bloodbath stood at the helm, ordering Finnegan to climb up the junk's mast as his lookout. Regardless of his disagreements with the young lad, Finnegan had a sharp eye and there was no better man for the task. Shortly, Teague would be turning his vessel sharply to starboard and, with guidance from the Powers, they would safely run the Empress aground on the beach at the farthest end of the Cove. Although it was clear that most of the Chinese crew was reluctant, there was little that they could do to save their damaged vessel. They needed food, drink, and wood to repair the bamboo battens - they needed the Lady.
As both of his hands gripped the wheel handles, Bloodbath recalled the many times they had sailed this route. It was a simpler time - a time when he and Teague never dreamed of being respected pirates.
I'm a terrible pirate, a younger, more naïve Teague would declare. You were always a much better pirate than me.
It was true for a time, but they were both rubbish pirates - with their lumbering lack of coordination, inability to tie proper knots, and their famous reputation for hiding their treasure and forgetting where they'd left it.
Nevertheless, he didn't want to see his young friend upset. Pfft, I've made a few mistakes myself. Bloodbath would say to console him, being a bit worse for wear from all the rum. Like that time I let a cannibal join the crew, and that other time I said, 'Well I don't see any hurricane.' I'm not perfect. They would laugh until the drink wouldn't allow them to stand any longer.
How time had changed them both… especially Teague. He had changed his principles, as many Lords before him had done. It was power that was the attraction. Teague accepted his status and command with memorable words: I dipped my hands in murky waters, and if a pirate I must be, 'tis better to be a Lord, than a common man.
The years that came after that moment had brought them many adventures. They led groups of men on attacks along the coast of Portugal. He brought their first ship, the Aurora, in as close as possible to the Torre de Belémin, Lisbon in order to provide covering fire and, with cannon balls flying overhead, Teague and his men had charged the ramparts. The pirates managed to break through the main entrance - only to find the Tower deserted. The Portuguese soldiers had abandoned their posts and fled into town.
That night, the pirates set fire to the surrounding fort. Many wanted to burn the town itself. But it was then, for the first time, that Teague exerted his authority. The town was protected by a long expanse of shallow water and was out of range of the Aurora's guns. It was also surrounded by thick forests which would provide cover for defenders. The pirates would inevitably sustain casualties for little gain, Teague argued. And his sensible advice prevailed. But still, they loaded around a dozen cannon on to a smaller boat and gave themselves the partial satisfaction of destroying several houses. Then, with the night falling, they set two Portuguese ships alight and sailed out of the harbor by the light of the flames. It was less than two weeks since they'd first arrived.
It was that raid that made him realize that Teague was a changed man; a leader, a man worth following.
And so he did.
Within moments, the cautious, slow-travelling ships began to thread their way through the reefs. The crew of the Empress fell silent as Finnegan began signaling directions to the helm, and with each gesture, Bloodbath steered the ship on proper course.
Aboard the Lady, Teague began the Lady's turn to starboard as she cleared the entrance to the Cove, and the Empress began to swing to port on her tow line. Blood bath quickly adjusted her rudder, bringing her back in line with the Lady before the junk's momentum could carry her into the rocky shoreline.
Once the ships made the turn, a bit of tension fell away from Teague's shoulders, but not for long; he needed to make more sail to gain a bit of speed and steer towards the far shore, where the wide, sandy beach lay. As the Lady approached the shore, Teague ordered the anchor to be heaved, the cable tautened, and all canvas dropped. As she swung on her shortened cable, the Lady released the tow line.
Slowly, the Empress' momentum carried her past the Lady's stern, and gently grounded her in the shallow waters of the sandy shore.
A small group of Teague's crew jumped into the longboat and began preparing the Lady for mooring. Knowing that time was of the essence, the mooring lines were set without delay to secure the Lady and prevent her from swinging on her anchor cable.
With the wind blowing strongly, Teague watched as the crew prepared the longboat to go ashore. Exhaustion began to settle in, but he knew that he wouldn't find repose until Samhra was safe. He instinctively focused on the Empress in the distance. It was a relief to see that she was successfully beached as the tide ebbed but, at the same time, he feared what would happen if Sao Feng found her. Teague had witnessed the brothels in Singapore first hand, and did not wish that fate upon Samhra. Turning again to shore, he watched his men disappear with provisions beyond the dense barrier of broadleaf ferns and palm trees screening the far shore from view.
After a brief moment of gathering his thoughts and breath, he turned to greet Reynolds with a severe stare. "She must not be seen."
~o~
Time had stopped. She could see it flowing somewhere very far away, perhaps outside. The ship had become still some time ago, but she could feel the Lady lifting and falling, over and over again. The slow, gentle swaying motions rocked her quietly, almost politely; it was consoling, even personal. The rhythmic movement seemed to calm her troubled mind, even if only for a moment.
There was no light in her cabin, and her eyes grew heavy as she played with the edges of her gifted silver brush, relying only on touch to guide her fingers along the cool metal. Time was moving somewhere, but not inside her. Inside her, time had stopped. She couldn't feel anything, couldn't do anything.
Thoughts of nothing immediately turned to thoughts of her Edward, but she pushed him from her mind. There was a great, invisible bolster thrust between them, and she had never felt so lonely and cold. It was incomprehensible that her life in Tanjavur was over. Everything she knew there had been burned to the ground. She almost burst into tears at the thought. If it weren't all so bizarre, she'd feel like the biggest fool in the world, but she didn't know what to think. Maybe it was the fact that his eyes looked so kind; so trusting, and nothing like her monstrous husband.
Perhaps it was all a lie. Perhaps everything that had been instilled in her upbringing was an elaborate ploy to divert her from the truth. But she had undergone so much abuse that she could no longer decipher what the truth really was and what real love should feel like.
She turned onto her side and closed her eyes. Minutes passed, and she was wide-awake. She turned onto her other side, then her back. Sighing, she touched the crust forming on her lower lip from the monster's blow, and squeezed her eyes closed. Nothing was working. Finally she sat up, feeling most unlike herself.
In her tossing and turning, her hair had come loose from her braid and tumbled over her shoulder. She thrust it away from her face, and fixed her eyes on the light that illuminated the outline of her doorway.
What she had come to realize was that she was more insulted than anything that Teague had deceived her with such a lie. How could he kiss her while playing her like a fool? She decided that she hated him. The wretched vermin! Wretched, wretched vermin! The thought made her fume. The insult did little to relieve her anger; she punched the mattress, hoping it would make her feel better.
She took in a few deep breaths, attempting to regain some sort of tranquility. Perhaps one should not judge, she thought after a moment. The typical pirate, showing up at her door, should have raped, plundered and murdered her, but Teague had not done so. Even though he had led a cruel life of disease, danger and death it had not made him hard-hearted.
Her internal ruminating was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. She huddled in the corner with unreasoning fear as her door flew open.
Teague moved fast; walking in, he took his coat off. "Samhra, we must go. Quickly," he spoke softly.
She was speechless for a moment. He was dressed strangely, all in black, even his shirt-he seemed to snuff himself out like a light. Around his neck, he wore a black bandana; her gaze fell on it. It was silk. She wondered if the skin it concealed was as smooth has the material.
What was she thinking?
A moment later, she felt his cheek grazing hers in the darkness as he wrapped the coat around her shoulders. She eyed him warily, gazing at the dull outline of his face; his dark eyes invisible in the shadows. Her mind flashed back to the kiss they had shared only a few days ago.
Sighing, she pulled her eyes away from the man who had bothered her sleep for so many nights. "Are you a pirate?" she asked, with a measure of apprehension, praying that her Songsmith would quell her doubts and insecurities.
Teague appeared stunned, if the bemused expression on his face was the correct indicator of his emotions. The importance of his surroundings slowly sank in. "We don't have time-"
Samhra could see his thoughts chasing one another across his face. "You are a pirate!" she accused, pulling away from his grasp. "I heard them say you were a pirate."
In one swift motion, Teague removed his shirt and caught Samhra's hand in the darkness. He pressed it against an oddly shaped scar on his chest. At first, his rashness made her apprehensive, but curiosity took hold of her fingers, and they traced the edges of the scar slowly, carefully. Finally, she recognized the shape - she had outlined a medium sized letter "P".
"What did you think I was?" His tone was harsh and inimical, and he fixed his eyes on Samhra in a strange, scornful glare. "What does it change? Would you have come if I had told you?"
The silence that filled the room clearly unnerved him; his breath came harshly. "You have your answer," he said, sounding crushed. Then he rose to his feet and reached down to scoop her up into his arms.
Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Where are you taking me?" she asked nervously, feeling her pulse quicken. "Are you going to hurt me?"
For a moment, he looked as if he was considering the notion, but then he whispered, "If I intended to hurt you, I would have done so already. Be still, we haven't much time to waste."
~o~
With lanterns in hand, Bloodbath and Reynolds quietly led the way across the wide expanse of beach. Teague followed close behind, eyes darting in every direction. The jungle was alive; rich and lush in life and noise, colorful birds and monkeys called out to them from the trees rustling in the breeze. He tightened his grip on the woman in his arms, offering her protection from the new, strange noises. Samhra nestled her face upon his shoulder, against the warmth of his chest while his arms tensed protectively around her. The group moved like the wind until they came to a slipway of sorts, made of splintered wooden boards, which lead to a pathway up the cliff ahead.
Parts of the trail were washed away from rushing flood waters, and all of it was overhung by vegetation. The steps cut into the cliff were shallow and wide, their edges reinforced by roughhewn stones and thick planks. As they walked, Reynolds made sure to mark the way, so the crew would know their route when it was time to return to the Lady.
Teague carried her carefully up the steps into the forest, and for a time, everything was silent and dark. The air was a little warmer there; the ocean breeze barely penetrating the thick surrounding foliage.
It was a good night for reconnaissance. What little moon there was sat low in the night sky and was partially obscured by clouds. Every so often, Teague stopped to let her stretch her legs, and then gathered Reynolds and Bloodbath close together for a quick briefing. They spoke in low whispers. Curious, she moved in. It looked as though they were plotting something, she thought. But gradually, she had simply given up on her endless speculating and just concentrated on each moment. Life had begun to take on an element of unreality for her, for the events in the past few days had become too hard to handle.
It was strange, too, how she caught herself looking around for Teague, making sure he was near. She felt like a child, too young to explore without her parents. But she didn't speak to him. She stood there and looked at him, trying to figure out what to do next.
Around them, the forest seemed alive. Sudden snapping of branches and snagging vines and leaves, with invisible insects that buzz and swoop. The noise was constant, and the heat rose and fell. She had never been alone, not once, in her life, and now she was completely alone, in a company of utter strangers.
A few moments passed until Teague eased over to her, bent down, and pulled her into his arms again. She panicked internally. Like a trapped animal pacing behind bars, her mind weaved back and forth. She was caged in trees and heat.
She kicked her feet in the air as Teague lifted her, looking to him for a measure of comfort. "I've got you, love," he whispered next to her ear. Even then, he only spoke to her when the others could not hear. Otherwise, he ignored her. Perhaps it was an act. The man who saved her from certain death? That man had adored her. And yet, he had changed completely since that day. Filled with confusion, anticipation, and dread, she began to cry again. Within moments, she felt his cheek on her forehead, and she softly nuzzled her head down onto his shoulder as he held her.
Even in her weakened state, Samhra was startled by the intensity of his sharp black eyes that studied her closely. But despite the strength and power that radiated from his presence, he didn't frighten her. To the contrary, every instinct told her that he was the man that would keep her safe. For some reason, as she melted into his embrace, she trusted him - pirate or not. He was human; he cared for her, and everything about him seemed to suggest it.
All at once, she saw what she hadn't seen before. It was like suddenly noticing a magician's bluff - that trick of the eye - a form of misdirection in which a larger action hides a smaller one. It was a ruse, the way he ignored her. Oh, not to fool her, she now realized, but to fool them. To fool Sao Feng. With that revelation, the tears stopped, and she finally found comfort in his arms. But there was one last question that plagued her.
Why?
Teague looked down; noticing Samhra had cried herself to sleep. Her dark hair hung in damp tendrils around her petite face, and her cheeks were stained with tears. His arms were tired, but he held the sleeping woman tightly with purpose.
As they continued to toil up the slope, Bloodbath took the lead, slashing a path through the undergrowth with his cutlass while Reynolds brought up the rear. They assured the village was close by, and they knew their way quite well.
The pirates inhabited a well-hidden campsite in the center of the rocky bluff that overlooked the eastern coast of the country. There, sheer cliffs crashed to pummel the rocky shore below. To the west rose stands of tall trees, whose blackened silhouettes glowed silver in the moonlight.
Before the Company raids, there had been a small, thriving settlement there, with some houses and farmers. But the first contingent of thirty men, under the command of one George Beckett, a bold and profligate fellow, had landed and entered without opposition, set fire to the town, and tumbled their supplies into the sea.
The arrival of pirates on cutters at this long-abandoned town led to reconstruction of some buildings. There were certainly a few houses in reasonable condition, including one which they had converted into a tavern, of course; but there was barely enough accommodation for both crews. Sails had to be brought ashore from abandoned ships, and makeshift shelters were constructed in the surrounding area.
As Teague's party approached the summit, boisterous voices and foreign music began to fill the silent void of the mountaintop. Bloodbath took the lead, making sure that the area was clear of blackguards before accompanying Teague and Samhra to the tent furthest from the crew's campfire.
When they reached the shelter, Teague carried the young woman through the flap door and, with great care, placed her on some loose blankets in the middle of the spacious interior. His fingers deftly loosed the ties that held her long, braided tresses. Reynolds had gone to fetch a pail of clear water from the camp, which Teague used to gently clean Samhra's lip wound. Finally, he covered the length of her body with a light blanket and sat beside her. Silently, he gazed at her, listening to the even sound of her breaths. He found himself gripped by possessiveness, and an overwhelming need to protect her from anyone or anything that might bring her harm.
He stayed at her side for a few more moments, letting his eyes grow heavy, until he decided it was time for him to go rejoin his men. But as he began to rise, Samhra stirred and her long, black eyelashes fluttered. With all the energy she possessed, she gently seized his shirtsleeve. "Stay with me? Please, don't go," she pleaded in a raspy voice.
Without a word, he obliged, lying down beside her and she instantly curled up against him. She felt him wrap his arms around her as she laid her head on his chest. She did not resist. Perhaps she was too tired, or didn't care any longer. The only thing that made sense to her was his warmth; she needed it, craved it.
Her eyes were closed, but her hand found his face, his chin, his eyes, his ears, his lips… she needed his lips. She felt his breath on her face, and breathed in the air he exhaled - his breath was her breath. Her Edward was alive; she was alive. She was no longer crying; she was no longer cold.
Overcome by fatigue, she sank into his embrace, until she relaxed and fell asleep.
~o~
For several hours, Samhra was in a deep and dreamless sleep. In the dead of night, she awoke, startled, feeling a weight on her chest and, fearfully, she gazed at her unfamiliar surroundings. Suddenly, she became aware that something was observing her, something with eyes, something with hot breath, and something with a large tongue. Blinking, panting, and drooling with his tongue hanging from one side of his jaw, sat Rogue, who looked quite comfortable indeed.
Brushing the corners of her eyes and trying to focus, she reached out to where Teague lay beside her, but he was no longer there. She sighed. "What a surprise," she whispered to herself.
Playfully, she scratched behind the small pup's ear. "How is it that you and I always end up together?" He whimpered a small response, cocking his head to one side.
"Are you my protector?" she asked, tenderly cupping her hands around the pup's head.
Rogue huffed, as if he replied, Well, of course I am! He stood up on her chest and turned around to face the opening of the tent. Then, he gently settled back down - leaving Samhra with the not-so-agreeable view of his shaggy arse.
She turned her head to avoid the occasional wag of her guard dog's tail and spotted something curious beside her. Further inspection revealed it to be two piles of clothing. In one lay the golden-colored saris Teague gifted to her the day the Empress was spotted on the horizon. They were neatly folded and well taken care of. The other consisted of a pile of black garments - a loose shirt, men's pants and a black, silk bandana - carelessly tossed in a heap beside the flap.
Gently, she patted Rogue's hips until he reluctantly let her rise. He huffed again, obviously annoyed with her sudden willingness to move. It seemed as though the slope between her chest and stomach was a very comfortable place to stand guard.
Rogue followed her inquisitively, as she crawled to the mounds of clothing, finding a new home in her lap as she picked up a sari. Rogue sniffed it for a few moments before settling his head down on her leg.
Samhra managed a weak smile as she recalled her childhood home in Tanjavur. It was warm, familiar, beautiful, and feminine. Her mind wandering over her childhood, when she had hoped for such great things: she would marry a prince, live in a castle, and be someone special. But marriage and servitude was what was expected of her. She recalled how her mother would proudly declare that she'd make a fine wife one day.
Wife, she thought, frowning.
Her mother was always on about the evils of dreaming, but she never could see it. Her dreams were still her own. She could have been anyone, rich or poor, plain or pretty, clever or stupid.
Her delicate fingers artfully traced the smooth floral patterns as beautiful memories turned sour at the recollection of her abusive, deceased husband.
Widow, she corrected.
Her expression changed, andRogue looked at her with his big, brown, concerned eyes. What's wrong? He let out a small whine and licked her arm, hoping to mend her broken spirit.
"Who am I?" she asked him. Rogue's head tilted, listening to her intently. The question surprised her, for she had never considered it. Her life was laid out before her when she was born. Why would she question it?
I'm a murderer. A criminal. An escapee. The shunned daughter of a prestigious family, she listed in her thoughts. All things true. Absentmindedly, she ran her tongue over her parched lips and wound.
The memories of that night played over again in her mind:
The gunshot.
The scream.
The blood pooling beside her.
The monster - dead.
And Teague standing before her as her savior.
As her thoughts shifted, she put the garment down, smoothing out its edges, and let out a small sigh. Tanjavur was gone - a thing of the past. That chapter of her life was over.
Moving on, she picked up Teague's discarded shirt and held it up to her nose.
I could be a pirate's captive…
Inhaling deeply, she filled her lungs with his scent. The thought of him made her smile for the first time in days. She held the garment against her, studying its size.
"Or," she thought aloud, smiling at the revelation, "a pirate's love."
Rogue barked as he nuzzled his way under the black garment. He was beginning to look quite restless. She patted his scruffy little head. "Would you like to go for a walk?"