Troubled Seas
Unfortunate Remains
The two sat in silence, an odd couple at best. Had a passerby noticed the two huddled on the dock it would have raised a unnecessary questions. But in this small and inconsequential town all the citizens were too wrapped up in their own meaningless lives to notice anyone beyond themselves.
“How do you know me?” Jack finally ask, the curiosity which had been burning inside him, bursting forth.
“Oh you’re quite infamous among the thieves and low life’s,” she nodded in agreeance with what she had just said.
“And what would a young bud like you being doing with the likes of that?” Jack asked more sternly than he meant to.
“I can take care of myself,” she said rather fiercely. Her hand instinctively clutched at her skirt burdened thigh.
“You think you would survive a knife with a thoroughly nasty soul?” Jack scowled in disapproval.
“I’m sure you’d be surprised,” she smiled wryly. She turned to Jack and stared him square in the face. It was only now that Jack noticed the faint scar tracing itself clean through her left eyebrow. But it was the image imprinted on her skin, just above her wrist that caused his mouth to drop open.
“Not so innocent are we?” he inquired with a lifted brow. His tan face hadn’t been washed clean in a good while causing it to be darker than usual. His hair was a rich brown tangled with beads and other such decorations that brought attention to his unkempt mane. His eyebrows were the same deep color as was his slight facial hair. His eyes followed a similar color pattern, but tiny green flecks infiltrated the otherwise uninterrupted brown landscape.
The lady twitched and grabbed at her pink sleeves that ended in white lace, desperately she tried to pull the lace down over her wrist but it was no use. The dress was not meant to cover areas a fine young lady should have no shame of showing. “We all make mistakes,” her voice was sorrowful.
Jack moved his hand slowly as he grasped her wrist and pulled it toward him. He took a moment or two to examine the intricate design that the ink had forever saturated into otherwise perfectly cream skin. He raised a rough finger to trace along the dark black lines, trying to unravel the unfamiliar symbol.
“Not many know what it means,” she didn’t withdraw her small wrist from his large calloused hand.
“I have never seen it,” he assented.
“I finally convinced Benjamin to take me with him on one of his voyages. It was supposed to be a rather bland mission, no chance of capture or anything dangerous, otherwise he would never have let me come,” she began; her eyes once more on the open ocean. “We had been out to sea no more than a week when the storm hit. It was the strongest the crew had ever seen, come in from the Indies they told me. The wind wrecked the mast and shredded the sails.”
Jack could visualize it with his own eyes. It was a scene he had been a part of too many times. Not many ships survived and even fewer crew members ever made it back to shore. But avoiding imminent disaster was Jack’s strong suit and he had faired quite well through any trying affair that had approached him.
“I held onto to a fragment of the ship’s stern for two whole days before I was fished out of the water by some natives. We had been close to the Island of Anew, it had been explored once by missionaries but given up to the savageness of the natives. I was rescued by a whaling ship that happened to cast anchor on Anew but not before the natives branded me with this blasphemous mark. It’s a constant reminder to the horrific events that lead to my brother’s death and my banishment from society,” she ended her tale with a defeated tone.
“So that’s why the low life’s and thieves,” Jack nodded understandingly.
“To live is to expose yourself to danger, I wanted to live. I was tired of being a china doll on a shelf. Unfortunately, my decision to break free resulted in disaster and not adventure. My family wants nothing to do with me but they have no choice. They can’t just throw their only daughter out, instead I am asked to stay away from them in public places, come into the house through the back door, sleep in the servant quarters and take the servant stairways,” she shrugged her delicate shoulders.
“How do you know me?” Jack finally ask, the curiosity which had been burning inside him, bursting forth.
“Oh you’re quite infamous among the thieves and low life’s,” she nodded in agreeance with what she had just said.
“And what would a young bud like you being doing with the likes of that?” Jack asked more sternly than he meant to.
“I can take care of myself,” she said rather fiercely. Her hand instinctively clutched at her skirt burdened thigh.
“You think you would survive a knife with a thoroughly nasty soul?” Jack scowled in disapproval.
“I’m sure you’d be surprised,” she smiled wryly. She turned to Jack and stared him square in the face. It was only now that Jack noticed the faint scar tracing itself clean through her left eyebrow. But it was the image imprinted on her skin, just above her wrist that caused his mouth to drop open.
“Not so innocent are we?” he inquired with a lifted brow. His tan face hadn’t been washed clean in a good while causing it to be darker than usual. His hair was a rich brown tangled with beads and other such decorations that brought attention to his unkempt mane. His eyebrows were the same deep color as was his slight facial hair. His eyes followed a similar color pattern, but tiny green flecks infiltrated the otherwise uninterrupted brown landscape.
The lady twitched and grabbed at her pink sleeves that ended in white lace, desperately she tried to pull the lace down over her wrist but it was no use. The dress was not meant to cover areas a fine young lady should have no shame of showing. “We all make mistakes,” her voice was sorrowful.
Jack moved his hand slowly as he grasped her wrist and pulled it toward him. He took a moment or two to examine the intricate design that the ink had forever saturated into otherwise perfectly cream skin. He raised a rough finger to trace along the dark black lines, trying to unravel the unfamiliar symbol.
“Not many know what it means,” she didn’t withdraw her small wrist from his large calloused hand.
“I have never seen it,” he assented.
“I finally convinced Benjamin to take me with him on one of his voyages. It was supposed to be a rather bland mission, no chance of capture or anything dangerous, otherwise he would never have let me come,” she began; her eyes once more on the open ocean. “We had been out to sea no more than a week when the storm hit. It was the strongest the crew had ever seen, come in from the Indies they told me. The wind wrecked the mast and shredded the sails.”
Jack could visualize it with his own eyes. It was a scene he had been a part of too many times. Not many ships survived and even fewer crew members ever made it back to shore. But avoiding imminent disaster was Jack’s strong suit and he had faired quite well through any trying affair that had approached him.
“I held onto to a fragment of the ship’s stern for two whole days before I was fished out of the water by some natives. We had been close to the Island of Anew, it had been explored once by missionaries but given up to the savageness of the natives. I was rescued by a whaling ship that happened to cast anchor on Anew but not before the natives branded me with this blasphemous mark. It’s a constant reminder to the horrific events that lead to my brother’s death and my banishment from society,” she ended her tale with a defeated tone.
“So that’s why the low life’s and thieves,” Jack nodded understandingly.
“To live is to expose yourself to danger, I wanted to live. I was tired of being a china doll on a shelf. Unfortunately, my decision to break free resulted in disaster and not adventure. My family wants nothing to do with me but they have no choice. They can’t just throw their only daughter out, instead I am asked to stay away from them in public places, come into the house through the back door, sleep in the servant quarters and take the servant stairways,” she shrugged her delicate shoulders.