Wicked Sea

Besse crouched down as low as she could go behind the food barrels. She cringed as she inhaled the scent of salted fish, beans, and moldy cheese. The smell was not helping her rapid heart nor her churning stomach. As a crew man walked by she held her breath, watching him twist his neck side to side as he tried to locate her.

He grunted angrily and moved on, continuing his search for the thief while grumbling to himself.

Blowing out the breath, she let her head fall back on the wooden wall of the hold, relaxing for just a moment. Her fingers moved to her pocket that held the doubloons she swiped from the Captain, her end goal was nearly in sight until the First Mate caught her.

Besse’s lips turned up in a sneer as she thought about how he bellowed out about her being a thief and how she ran from the Captain’s quarters down to the lowest part of the ship to hide.

The bastard ruined her plans of getting off the ship and away from their perverted, angry eyes at the next port. The doubloons would have helped immensely with buying new clothes, a horse, and keeping the sellers goddamn mouths shut, but now there was little chance of her hiding until then.

Sighing, Besse straightened her head and opened her eyes.

A pair of black beady eyes stared right back, the crew man’s cracked lips curled up in a sinister smile showing off his rotten teeth.

“Found ye,” he whispered, his rancid breath in her face making her nearly gage, before grabbing her by the hair and yanking her up.

Besse yelped at the sudden pain in her scalp, grasping at the man’s wrists to try to lessen the grip. He dragged her from behind the barrels, clawing at the man. She managed to kick one of the barrels over in an attempt to distract him, but all that managed was the floor being soaked in fish juices.

She was starting to think the luck she had was cursed.

Bringing her attention back to the crew man that had her hair in his clutches, she kicked him the shin, making him grunt in pain and lose his grip. She turned and started running until another crew man stepped in her way and back handed her hard enough to fall and see stars.

Dazed with blood trickling down her chin from her split lip, she felt her arms get grabbed by two crew men and was hoisted up. Each one took her hand and tied them behind her back, her head swirling with confusion.

Besse surrendered to her fate as she tried to ward off the darkness that danced along the edges of her vision.

Stumbling onto the main deck when one of the crew men pushed her forward, she silently thanked the sea god for giving her such good sea legs, otherwise she would have fallen and broken her nose along with her busted lip.

“Bring her ta me,” snarled Captain Craw, rum dripping down his unkempt beard after taking a swig.

The two crew men grabbed Besse harshly, their dirty fingernails digging into her skin as they practically dragged her to him.

They threw her at his feet. This time she was not so lucky to catch herself, pain exploding from her elbow as she landed on her side.

Besse hissed internally at the pain, but on the outside she glared up at the Captain, not allowing him the satisfaction of seeing her hurt.

“Whatcha got ta say far yarself, Bessse?” The Captain slurred his words at her, making his accent harder to understand.

Besse spat at Captain Craw’s boots, or tried to with the little bit of saliva and blood she had in her mouth.

“Aye. Such a cunt,” Captain Craw’s first mate, Pistol-Grin Garry, spoke with disgust, acting like he never chased after Besse like a male dog looking for a leg to hump.

Pistol-Grin kicked Besse in the back. Her back arched in pain but she kept her face void of emotion.

Captain Craw sneered at his first mate, but did nothing to reprimand him. He looked back down at Besse and crouched in front of her.

“Besse. Why would ye steal from yer Cap’n? Why would ye kill one of me men? Have I not shown ye compassion for yer gender?” He waved a hand around the ship, “me men would sooner feed ye ta the fishes, let ye drown in the cold water after using ye like a whore. But I,” he slapped his chest hard, making his rum spill out of his cup, “I protected ye, even gave ye ya own cabin. And this be how ye repay me?”

He grasped her chin in his dirty hand, the smell of him starting to overwhelm her.

“Lass. Besse. Are ye going ta answer me?” His grip tightened on her chin, making her sure a bruise will form.

Besse part lips.

“Fuck ye. I ain’t kill one of ye men. I told ye before, he kill himself by cursing the Sea God. And what if I did? What are ye goin ta do ta me? Maroon me?” Besse smiled viscously, not expecting the Captain to do anything.

The crew had accused Besse of killing their doctor just after the last port stop. He was known for trying to seduce her and brag about his knowledge that could rival the Sea God. She could not deny that he was well-versed in medicine, he saved many of the crew men from syphilis and scurvy, but his belief in the sea god was nearly nonexistent. That was something Besse tried to right, but only ended up hating him more for his narrow-minded ways.

When he was found, he was mutilated nearly beyond recognition. His skin was practically flayed from his body, like the cat o’ nine tails was used on him.

The type of whip that the Captain had, and Besse had access to.

When both were confronted by the First Mate, the Captain had an alibi plus a witness while Besse had neither. She was in her cabin by herself when it happened, but none of them believed her other than the Captain.

That’s when she knew she needed to leave. That and their stares were worsening, eyes becoming too glazed with lust and hatred that Besse’s skin crawled.

Focusing back onto Captain Craw, she watched as his jaw flexed in anger.

He released her chin harshly, making her head turn so hard that she nearly hit the wooden boards underneath her.

“Guess I let ye get ta spoiled from all the spoils I so graciously allowed ye. Serve’s an old sea dog like me,” the Captain stood and turned to walk to his cabin.

“Chain her up and throw her inta the brig,” he looked back at her one last time. “Tomorra, we have our fun wit her before she is tossed overboard.” He took a long drink from his cup before turning his back on her.

“NOO!” Besse screamed, but her voice was drowned out by all the crew men celebrating the fact that they get to finally have her and be rid of her.

The forbidden one.

Before she was dragged away, Pistol-Grin took a swig of his rum and spat all of it onto Besse. She turned her head so not to get the nasty grog on her face.

“Get used ta that, lass. Cause that’s whatcha be gettin tomorra night from all of us!” He laughed as he motioned for the lower crew men to take her away.

“The Sea God will drag yer souls down ta the deep if ye try ta touch me!” She screamed, kicking at the men trying to grab her. She nearly screamed for her captain, but he had already shut his door.

Besse’s blood drained from her face at the sight.

He truly meant what he said.

The fight leaving her, Besse let the men drag her down to the hold where the brig was. She was placed inside a small room with a bed of straw on one side while the other had an empty bucket. Rusted chains were attached to the floor boards in the center, the chains long enough for her to bend her arms while she was sitting but not long enough for her to stand straight.

Tossing her to the ground, they chained her up while calling her vile names and telling her what they were going to do to her.

Besse never acknowledged their words, too busy in her own mind praying to the Sea God she cherished so much.

A pair of worn out boots caught her attention. She looked up to find Pistol-Grin in front of her with a nasty grin on his face, all the crew men gone and the wooden door to the brig shut.

He crouched down and took a piece of her hair in between his fingers.

“Poor little lass, it all finally caught up ta ya dinnit?” He twirled the hair around his finger then yanked on it. “I am finally getting ya off ta ship. Women, especially one’s like ya, don’ belong here.” He yanked again, making her head move with the harsh motion.

Besse sneered at the First Mate.

“Men like ya don’t deserve ta live,” she spat out.

The First Mate backhanded her. She fell to the floor, her hair covering her face that was bleeding lavishly now. She lifted her chin and spit out the blood as she slowly sat back onto her knees.

The sound of a single whip cracking brought her attention back to Pistol-Grin. Her eyes zeroed in on the leather weapon, making her gulp at the sight of it.

“What are ye goin ta do?” She whispered even though she knew the answer already.

He cracked the whip again and smiled.

“Somethin I’ve wanted ta do since the first time I saw ya.”

Besse felt the whip hit her skin and the searing hot pain that came from the leather slicing open her skin.

She screamed.

Pistol-Grin stepped forward and gagged her mouth, the taste of the salty cloth gave her no comfort.

“Now ya can scream all ya want,” he laughed harshly. “No one will save ya cause no one will care about what ya look like tomorra!”

He laughed louder as he whipped Besse till tears ran down her face and she passed out.