Corsets & Crossbones (8 page)

“I swear that what I tell you is true!” Brooke exclaimed, pacing back and forth in Charlie’s cabin. 

The pirate captain was still lying in his bed, his dark eyes half-opened.  Brooke had just knocked on his door and walked in at the crack of dawn, spilling out everything she had overheard, or thought she had overheard, to Charlie.  Charlie listened patiently, his shaggy hair disoriented, and he was yawning every other moment.  He could see that Brooke was obviously distressed, but he could not believe that his crew would even think about mutiny.  He trusted his crew immensely, and he believed they trusted him as well.

“Love, I believe that what you say you believe is true.”  His low voice was slurry when he was tired.  Charlie winced as he forced himself to sit up.  The satin covers fell as he moved up, revealing his toned chest.  Dark hairs lightly covered his upper chest, and there were different scars and tattoos on his body.

Brooke glanced at Charlie when he spoke, and her eyes fell on his exposed chest.  Her face went red and she immediately looked away and continued to pace.  Now her thoughts were muddled with Charlie’s toned chest, his battle wounds, and the permanent ink that stained his chest. 

“I also believe that you happen to like what you see,” he said with a cheshire-like grin.

Brooke stopped pacing and gave him a disgusted look.  “Let’s not change the subject,” she said curtly.  “I know what I heard.”

“How do you know it wasn’t a dream?” Charlie asked, leaning on his wooden headboard.  He yawned, his gold teeth peeking out from his mouth.

“Because I know,” Brooke told him firmly.  “Do you not trust me?”  She tilted her head ever-so slightly.  Her green eyes were big, pleading with him. 

He sighed through his nose, opened his mouth and then shut it as though he was trying to figure out what to say.  Finally, he said, “I do trust you, love, I do, but I trust my crew as well, and in all fairness, they were here first.” 

Brooke opened her mouth in shock at what he said, and he could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.  

“That was a stupid thing to say,” Charlie mumbled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.  “All I know is that if my crew was planning a mutiny on me then I would definitely know about it.”

“Charlie, you are a great captain,” Brooke murmured quietly, “but a poor judge of character.”

“I greatly appreciate your concern for me and me ship, but I can guarantee you that no mutiny is about to take place,” he told her.  “I’ve known these lads for a while now, and they’ve given me their loyalty.  I wouldn’t expect anything but that.”

Brooke knew she couldn’t expect him to trust her immediately, but there was no reason for her to lie about something as serious as mutiny.  In a way, she felt like he was tarnishing her name, her reputation because of his lack of faith in her.  Did he think she was a liar?  If he didn’t trust her with something as serious as this, then why did she run away with him in the first place?  She had put her life in his hands, and sadly, he didn’t do the same.  But then again, she barely even knew him.  What frustrated
her the most was that she knew what she heard; she knew this mutiny was about to take place, and she could do nothing about it.  It was going to happen, and because of Charlie’s doubt in her, it would be successful.

Brook shook her head.  She could not cook very well, nor did she have any passion to clean, but she had to do something to stop this from happening.  But what could she do?

Heath!  She could talk to Heath!

Without another word, Brooke walked out of Charlie’s room.  Charlie watched her go with a sigh.  Brooke really believed what she said, and no matter how much he tried to reassure her that all was well, she did not believe him.  She didn’t look like a stubborn girl, but apparently looks could be deceiving.  Charlie knew she wouldn’t relent in her beliefs, but he wouldn’t either.  He knew that until this situation was resolved, there would be thick tension between the two of them.

“…and he does not seem to believe me, so that is why I am here, telling you,” Brooke concluded, looking at Heath.

Heath was already sweating, standing in the small kitchen, cooking dinner for the crew.  The sun had reached its highest point in the sky, blazing down on them.  It was a hot, August day in the Caribbean, and being in a small kitchen only heightened the humidity.  The tunic he was wearing had dirt stains and his breeches had many patches.  His boots were old and worn in, his sandy blond hair dirty.  Spots of dust decorated his boyish face.  This was the epitome of being a pirate.  He sighed through his nose, looking up from the stew he was making.  His arm ceased from stirring and his shoulders slumped.

“I know,” he said quietly, so quietly that at first Brooke thought she misheard him.

“You… you know?”  Her brow furrowed with anger.  “You know and you have not yet told him?  Are you in on it too, Heath?”

Heath walked over to Brooke and cupped a dirty hand over her mouth.  “I’m not a part of it, okay?” he told her, dropping his hand.  His voice was low and rough, as though he wasn’t use to speaking in whispers.  “I mentioned it briefly in passing with Charlie, but he don’t wanna hear it, lass.  I meant it only as a hypothetical, an’ he didn’t press.”

“So what now?”
Brooke asked, crossing her arms over her chest.  Her voice had lowered to its normal register.  “I know what I heard and I am not going to brush this off as though nothing has happened.”

“When I heard it, it was when
me and Charlie first assembled the crew,” he said, shaking his head.  “Now that you heard it, well, I guess they’re serious now then, aye?  Be careful, lass.  Your words now hold your life in your hands.”

“My words could save Charlie,” she murmured quietly, her eyes drifting to the wooden floorboard.  She sighed after a moment, shooting Heath a forced smile before walking out of the kitchen and back into her room.

When she entered, she shut the door and managed to balance on the hammock that was supposed to be her bed.  She missed her home, her big, warm bed.  She missed her carefree life where people cooked and cleaned for her, where fresh food was provided, where she could bathe once every other day.  She missed Fiona and Fiona’s family, she missed Joel, and she missed her father.

Did they make it?
she wondered as a tear rolled down her face. 
Were they safe?
  All she had left of her home was some map that led to some treasure.  She would return the map if she could see her father again, even for a moment.  All the treasure the map supposedly leads to, she would give it to whoever could ensure his father’s safety.  All she had now was Charlie, and he didn’t trust her.  So really, all she had was herself.  While she escaped the danger on Port Royal, she was not quite sure if she was fully secure on this ship.

The week went by in a blur for Brooke.  She became incredibly close to Heath, the only person she could openly express her fears and doubts to.  He taught her how to cook stew, and to improvise ingredients when it called for it.  Charlie taught her how to swab the deck, which was hard work but much simpler than Brooke first believed.  Brooke kept her distance from the rest of the crew, ever suspicious of when they would execute their plan of mutiny.

The sun had bronzed Brooke’s skin a bit more, making her freckles more prominent than before.  The sun also stained her hair with more blonde, causing a color shift from dirty blonde to honey blonde.  She was sore every night, but could feel muscles she never even knew existed start to form.  She could smell herself by the end of the week, not bathing since her second introduction of Charlie Colt, and she desperately wanted a new pair of clothes.  Her hair felt greasy, so she managed to find some elastic and tie her hair up away from her face.

Brooke and Charlie hadn’t spoken much since Brooke’s confrontation but both were too stubborn to concede their position.  Despite not speaking to the sole woman aboard his ship, Charlie watched her like a hawk.  He watched the way she mopped the deck, the way she secretly joked with Heath, the way she would lean on the railing of the ship and stare wistfully out at the horizon, as though she was looking for something; Port Royal, he assumed.  She missed her family and friends.  While Charlie chose this life for himself, Brooke really had no choice in the matter.

He sighed as his fingers lightly gripped the wheel.  He was standing at the helm of his ship, his eyes scanning the sea.  This was his favorite place on the ship; at the helm.  He got to take his ship wherever he wanted to end up.  It was his home, his source of freedom.  Brooke had come to him and told him that his freedom was being threatened, by his crew no less.  He believed that she truly believed what she told him, and within time, she would see all her worrying would be for nothing.

Charlie watched as Brooke came up on the deck and leaned against the railing to look at the sea.  She never seemed to be bored of watching the multicolored waves roll.  The ocean sparkled in the sun, the gentle current softly rocking the ship.  He could see the appreciation in her eyes; it was the same appreciation he had in his eyes whenever he looked at the lapping water.  He watched her, just staring out the sea, when he suddenly saw her stiffen and her jaw muscle pop.  Her sudden change in demeanor caused his dark brow to furrow.  He saw her straighten up and then turned in Charlie’s direction.  The appreciation was replaced by pure fear.  Her arms were yanked behind her, and after a moment, she proceeded to walk towards him stiffly.

“Is everything all right?” he asked her, stepping from the helm.

It was then that he saw Bill “One Eye” Baum behind her with a pistol cocked and pointed to her head.  Brooke was glaring at Charlie, and he knew he deserved it.  Everything she had told him was true, and because he didn’t believe it Bill Baum and whoever else was a part of it had executed an attempt at mutiny successfully.  From the corner of his eyes, he could see his crew start to appear one by one, all pointing some sort of weapon at him.  And then, two big, burly men pulled up Heath from below deck.  Heath was in the same position Brooke was, his hands tied behind his back with a thick piece of rope.  The men led him to the railing of the ship, and Bill followed with Brooke, positioning her next to Heath.  The two captives looked ahead of themselves, at the wooden deck in front of them.  They said nothing.

“As you can see, Capt’n Colt,” Bill Baum said turning from Brooke to walk toward Charlie “this here be a mutiny.”

“If you touch her-
“  Charlie’s eyes narrowed so they were pure black slits.  His hands balled into fists; he was so mad, his hands were shaking.  It really happened; Brooke was right, and there she was, her hands tied behind her back, two cutlasses pointed at her.  And there was Heath, his best friend and first mate.  He was standing next to Brooke, in the same state as she was.

“What?” Baum teased, his one good eye dancing with excitement.  The eye wasn’t worried or suspicious now; it was looking at Charlie directly with an air of confidence that wasn’t there before.  “You’re going to flog me?”  He nodded to two men behind him; one was carrying a similar piece of rope that was used on Brooke and Heath.  “I don’t think
yer in any position to be makin’ any threats, Charlie.”

“Leave the two out of it,” Charlie called out as the two men came and grabbed Charlie roughly.  Brooke’s blank face flinched as she saw the men tie Charlie’s wrist behind his back, but then just as quickly, reverted back to blankness.  “They have
nothin’ to do with this.”  Charlie struggled against the men, but it was in vain.  In moments, he was tied up.

“On the contrary, Charlie,” Baum said with a grin.  He turned and walked back over to his two prisoners.  Brooke would not look at him, and swallowed slowly.  Heath looked Baum dead in the eye, clenching his teeth.  “These two were the only people who refused
ter be a part of this here mutiny.

“Now, I think I’m a fair man,” he continued, walking to stand in front of Heath’s face.  He came up to Heath’s nose, but Heath’s height didn’t seem to intimidate Baum.  He pulled his pistol from his holster and pointed the barrel between Heath’s eyes.  Brooke’s face completely faltered.

“No!” she cried.  “Don’t!”

One of men pointing a cutlass at Brooke dropped it so he could use his free hand to smack Brooke across the face, telling her to shut up.  The thwack of his hand on her cheek echoed in Charlie’s ears.  He bit his lip, chewing it so hard that he didn’t realize he was bleeding until he tasted the metallic taste in his mouth.

“You’ll get yer turn soon, lass,” he said with a wicked grin.  He turned back to Heath, his hand holding the pistol never wavering from Heath’s forehead.  “Now,” he said.  He pushed his face so it was mere centimeters from Heath’s.  “I’ll give ye one more chance to change yer mind.”

“You can take that chance, and shove it up your ass, ‘
cause I’m not changing me mind,” Heath said lowly.  His eyes were deadlocked in Baum’s.

Baum sighed and then shrugged, as if he had tried to do everything he could before pulling the trigger of his pistol and he shooting Heath between his blue eyes.  Brooke was too surprised to even scream.  She saw Heath’s body crumple to the floor, saw the blood staining his face, the deck of the ship, the men around her.  She didn’t know when she started to cry, but she felt the wetness on her cheeks after a moment.  Heath was gone; Heath was really gone, and he wasn’t coming back.  Brooke didn’t even have time to mourn for her newly-found friend before someone threw his lifeless body overboard.  His eyes stared at her while he was being tossed; those blue eyes that once stared at her with amusement and vigor now just looked on blankly, lifelessly.  He was gone.