The Last Rose of Summer: Part XIII (Final)
XIII
She woke with the dawn and sat up, breathing heavily in the dim dusky blue light. This was not her bed, not her room, and who was that moving about in the shadows - what in Heaven?
Then she remembered. She was in a boarding room, and it was Barbossa who moved, dressing himself and muttering at her to hurry and rise for they must be off.
Weary as she’d been from her day of selling off her former belongings, she had fallen into a heavy and silent slumber as soon as they had entered the room, scant minutes after seven of the clock. It had been the first night in many years, excepting the few she had spent on Barbossa’s ships, that she had not slept in her own bed and she looked about her strangely, her head feeling heavy and full of cotton as she struggled to adjust to the strangeness of it all.
Barbossa whisked back the sheets, and pulled her up by a wrist, landing a swift slap on her buttocks as he did so. Now she felt a thrill run through her as she dressed hastily, a swallow or two of gin clearing her head.
Today was the day - today she left Tortuga forever! Today she sailed for a land she had never seen nor known except through story to be made Madame of a bawdy-house and take the name of a man she loved though was not wedded to.
She looked across at this man as she struggled with the hooks of her bodice and her heart skipped, a chaotic blend of fear and elation coursing in her veins.
He caught her look and smiled, coming over to stroke her head and kiss her gently.
“To be sure, it be a marvellous venture a docks whore takes today.” He murmured, smiling at her. “But I shall be by yer side every step of it and shall not leave it until I see you safely in your own abode. Fear not, wench.”
She trembled, and managed to smile at him. “Am I to accompany you on your next journey then?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Nay, indeed not. It be not of the sort for a woman. Though when I be successful - and I will be - I will share the bounty with ye, and ye may be assured it be a great one indeed.”
That is all he would say on it, kissing her fiercely once more before whistling for the monkey who chirruped and leapt upon his shoulder, blinking down at Evie who could not resist poking her tongue out at it.
Breathless, she was led from the boarding house and out into the streets, which were beginning to empty as Tortuga’s reprobate population idled to their beds for the day. She suddenly twisted her head about, glancing with wide-eyes at all about her, realising that this was surely the last she would see of Tortuga. How quickly it had all happened. Strangely, she wanted to farewell the straggling crowd, though not a face amongst it was familiar.
The sky continued to pale as they hastened through the streets, Barbossa’s hand tightly gripping hers even as she struggled to drink in her last looks of her island home, and then the docks were before them, and beyond them the sea stretched, vast and green, undulating gently at their approach.
Evie could not tear her gaze from it, even as she stumbled on the path, could not stop the thought which so racketed through her head that soon - in mere moments in fact - she would be upon it and sailing away to find her new fortune.
Barbossa laughed suddenly as they moved down a wharf, his voice rasping through the new day. The Black Pearl loomed above them, mighty and dark against the fresh blue sky, and its crew were scurrying about, making ready to set sail and rolling up a final few barrels of stock for the journey ahead.
Barbossa limped into their midst and barked orders whilst Evie, feeling very small and uncertain, leaned against a nearby barrel, gripping it with both hands, and surveyed the scene with startled.
The unreality of it all washed over her again and she wondered once more if this were some intoxicated dream from which she might soon awaken - and she could not be sure if she hoped not.
Was this truly the right thing for her to do?
The wharf emptied as the men clambered aboard and there were none left but her and Barbossa. He looked up at the sky, then out to sea, then turned to her with a gentle smile and walked over to where she cowered, his bearing proud and his eyes bright and fierce.
Looking at him, at this man who had so long been in her life, whom she had so longed for and wept over, who had brought such great joy to her and who she loved so well, she was flooded then with absolute certainty and resolution of heart: it was his path that she must now follow and, whether right or wrong, it was by his side she would know new happiness.
He offered her his arm, his face softly creased in the brightening morning, his tall, broad figure splendid against the backdrop of the ship.
“Mrs. Burton,” he addressed her, and with a constricted throat and a peerlessly joyous smile, she took his arm, heart singing in a voice that would break the heart of the worst sort of scoundrel could it but only be heard by mortal ears. She walked with him to the gangplank, allowing him to hand her onto it, and ascending with the scent of brine in her nose and the gurgle of water below her. Barbossa’s hands steadying upon her hips, she stepped up to where Pintel stretched out a hand to assist her onto the ship and into her new future.
The End.
She woke with the dawn and sat up, breathing heavily in the dim dusky blue light. This was not her bed, not her room, and who was that moving about in the shadows - what in Heaven?
Then she remembered. She was in a boarding room, and it was Barbossa who moved, dressing himself and muttering at her to hurry and rise for they must be off.
Weary as she’d been from her day of selling off her former belongings, she had fallen into a heavy and silent slumber as soon as they had entered the room, scant minutes after seven of the clock. It had been the first night in many years, excepting the few she had spent on Barbossa’s ships, that she had not slept in her own bed and she looked about her strangely, her head feeling heavy and full of cotton as she struggled to adjust to the strangeness of it all.
Barbossa whisked back the sheets, and pulled her up by a wrist, landing a swift slap on her buttocks as he did so. Now she felt a thrill run through her as she dressed hastily, a swallow or two of gin clearing her head.
Today was the day - today she left Tortuga forever! Today she sailed for a land she had never seen nor known except through story to be made Madame of a bawdy-house and take the name of a man she loved though was not wedded to.
She looked across at this man as she struggled with the hooks of her bodice and her heart skipped, a chaotic blend of fear and elation coursing in her veins.
He caught her look and smiled, coming over to stroke her head and kiss her gently.
“To be sure, it be a marvellous venture a docks whore takes today.” He murmured, smiling at her. “But I shall be by yer side every step of it and shall not leave it until I see you safely in your own abode. Fear not, wench.”
She trembled, and managed to smile at him. “Am I to accompany you on your next journey then?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Nay, indeed not. It be not of the sort for a woman. Though when I be successful - and I will be - I will share the bounty with ye, and ye may be assured it be a great one indeed.”
That is all he would say on it, kissing her fiercely once more before whistling for the monkey who chirruped and leapt upon his shoulder, blinking down at Evie who could not resist poking her tongue out at it.
Breathless, she was led from the boarding house and out into the streets, which were beginning to empty as Tortuga’s reprobate population idled to their beds for the day. She suddenly twisted her head about, glancing with wide-eyes at all about her, realising that this was surely the last she would see of Tortuga. How quickly it had all happened. Strangely, she wanted to farewell the straggling crowd, though not a face amongst it was familiar.
The sky continued to pale as they hastened through the streets, Barbossa’s hand tightly gripping hers even as she struggled to drink in her last looks of her island home, and then the docks were before them, and beyond them the sea stretched, vast and green, undulating gently at their approach.
Evie could not tear her gaze from it, even as she stumbled on the path, could not stop the thought which so racketed through her head that soon - in mere moments in fact - she would be upon it and sailing away to find her new fortune.
Barbossa laughed suddenly as they moved down a wharf, his voice rasping through the new day. The Black Pearl loomed above them, mighty and dark against the fresh blue sky, and its crew were scurrying about, making ready to set sail and rolling up a final few barrels of stock for the journey ahead.
Barbossa limped into their midst and barked orders whilst Evie, feeling very small and uncertain, leaned against a nearby barrel, gripping it with both hands, and surveyed the scene with startled.
The unreality of it all washed over her again and she wondered once more if this were some intoxicated dream from which she might soon awaken - and she could not be sure if she hoped not.
Was this truly the right thing for her to do?
The wharf emptied as the men clambered aboard and there were none left but her and Barbossa. He looked up at the sky, then out to sea, then turned to her with a gentle smile and walked over to where she cowered, his bearing proud and his eyes bright and fierce.
Looking at him, at this man who had so long been in her life, whom she had so longed for and wept over, who had brought such great joy to her and who she loved so well, she was flooded then with absolute certainty and resolution of heart: it was his path that she must now follow and, whether right or wrong, it was by his side she would know new happiness.
He offered her his arm, his face softly creased in the brightening morning, his tall, broad figure splendid against the backdrop of the ship.
“Mrs. Burton,” he addressed her, and with a constricted throat and a peerlessly joyous smile, she took his arm, heart singing in a voice that would break the heart of the worst sort of scoundrel could it but only be heard by mortal ears. She walked with him to the gangplank, allowing him to hand her onto it, and ascending with the scent of brine in her nose and the gurgle of water below her. Barbossa’s hands steadying upon her hips, she stepped up to where Pintel stretched out a hand to assist her onto the ship and into her new future.
The End.