Little Sparrow

Little Sparrow

By YodaandLumiere

My name is Winifred. My long black hair is shiny and it makes my pale skin look like fresh cream. My eyes are golden brown, like cat eyes. I've always been told I was exotic looking. And the people around here know about exotic. This is Bridgeport. My village is a sea side port, used mostly for foreign trade goods and some fishing enterprises. It's one of the busiest ports along this portion of the eastern coast. We have a deep water cove and predictable tides. The ship captains love to dock their ships here, year round, making us an important port to the government as well.

I've lived here my entire life, or both my lives, really. I'm nineteen and I'm worried I'm going to need to start living the life I don't want. The life I've never wanted. My other life, the one where I'm happiest, is getting harder to lead everyday. I just wish I could be like every other girl in the village. But I'm nothing like any of them. Not a single one.

It's getting dark now, so I'm going to dress is one of my prettiest gowns, and head down to the tavern. I entertain the sailors passing through on the dozens of ships that dock here daily. Tonight I'm feeling rather beautiful so I pull out my favorite blue gown. It is of the finest fabric I could afford. And the blue color makes my golden eyes flash like gems. I'll pull my long black hair up into a fashionable style, with cascading curls. It shows off my long ivory neck that seems to drive men wild.

I entertain them with my company, in the tavern room only. I'm not hirable to take upstairs. I'm intellectual and educated, so my skills of conversation and the company of my exotic visage is my trade. I don't sell my body. My body has never been used by any man. I often wish I had a lover, but not a passing solider or sailor. Someone to stay with, forever.

I won't have that, though. Because of my differences from all the other girls. If you'd ask me in public, I'd tell you that my superior intelligence makes it impossible for me to hope for a loving husband. Men are intimidated by me and I refuse to marry until I find my equal. But that's my elaborate excuse. My truth is known only by me.

But I fear I'm on the verge of being found out. A local was in the tavern several days ago and he saw me and looked right into my unmistakable eyes. Locals don't usually come to the establishments along the water, which is why I've chosen to work here, and not in town. I can only begin to imagine whom he might have told that he saw me here, or what I was doing when he saw me, and what I was wearing. A fancy dress isn't what the townspeople see me in during the day.

I feel like my tide is either about to flood the shore and ruin my life on land. Our my tide is ready to recede so far that I'll be stranded without water. I'm on the edge of two impossible options. I wish I could sail away on one of these ships, to exotic ports of call. But that life doesn't fit into either of mine.

The hour has grown very late and the tavern only has a few very intoxicated patrons now. My services are no longer required, so I leave out the back. The stroll home, in the dark, is my favorite part of the day. I feel like a grown woman, in control of her own life. In the dark, I can be whomever I choose. And I choose to be Winifred, exotic woman of mystery and shadows.

I'm lost in my thoughts, as is usual when I make this trek nightly. I'm imagining a future I can never have and then everything goes black and I feel myself falling into darkness forever, falling and falling into an abyss. I must have landed because I'm on a cloud, it's floating and swaying as I drift through the sky. The sky is so bright, almost painfully so. A sharp pain shoots through my head and I'm clutching it and I curl into myself.

Soon I see the light again, but it's not as bright now. And I'm growing uncomfortable on this cloud. It needs to stop drifting and swaying. I just want to stand on the land for a moment, please. The sound of water filters into my ears and then I hear men yelling. Why are they yelling? I try to find them and I can't see. I can't see anything!

I reach up to touch my eyes and I find a cloth tied around my face. I hadn't even felt it. I grab it and pull it off and I nearly vomit as the whole room spins. This bed isn't mine. This house isn't mine. I would panic more if I could stop wanting to vomit. I moan in my anguish and uncomfortableness. I hear an old woman's voice.

A rough hand grabs my arm and shakes me. I try to open my eyes again, but everything won't stop spinning. I need to vomit, it's going to happen this time. I feel that strong arm on my waist, pulling me onto my side. I feel better like this, no, no I don't. I start to vomit and my whole body just keeps heaving even after I'm empty.

I feel a cool cloth run across my lips, face and then my forehead. The old woman's voice sounds comforting and she's touching my back, rubbing it like my grandmother did. It feels so nice. I am so thirsty but my stomach can't even take water right now.

I just try to lay still, to stop the spinning. I focus as hard as I can on the old woman's voice. She's saying something over and over. I'm frustrated by my inability to get control of my body. I take a very deep breath and I hear the voice clearer now. She said something like "that's good" and "breathe girl, breathe deep." I try to do as she says.

The fog starts to clear and it's getting much darker in this room but it still sways. I hate this feeling. Then I hear a very clear voice in the shadows saying "wake up, girl." And I try so hard to shake off the rest of this blanket of fog. I open my eyes and for the first time I can see clearly with only blurring around the outer edge of my field of vision.

I don't know where I am. I've never seen this place before. I hear the women in the shadows ask me "are you ready to sit up and have a sip of water, girl?" She has an unusual accent. I nod when I find I have no voice. She's beside me now and she's helping me sit up and she supports my slight frame with one large strong hand.

Mustering all my strength, I manage to ask where I am. She answers me that I'm on the Golden Hawk but I am not familiar with this place. She speaks again and she answers my unspoken questions. She says the Hawk is her ship. Why am I on a boat in the cove? I mumble a request to go ashore and she laughs so loudly it echoes around the room. That does more to shake me out of my stupor than anything else.

I finally focus on the old woman. I'm shocked at first, I've never seen a woman who looks like her. She's much younger than I thought. She is the color of black coffee. Her eyes are black and fathomless. She's large and tall and she has huge bosoms and long black and brown ropes coming from her head instead of hair. She's the truest definition of exotic. I look plain compared to her.

She states that it's obvious I've never met an islander woman in her very unique accent. I shake my head no, indicating, that I never have met an islander woman. Or an islander man, for that matter, I think to myself. She hands me some water and cautions me to sip it slowly. I sit and sip for a few moments and I finally find my voice, albeit raspy. I don't like how it sounds. I prefer my soft lilting voice to this ugly one.

But I still ask "where am I? Why am I on a ship and can I see the captain?"

She answers all three questions. "You're on the ocean, headed to my island. You're on my ship because two of my crew misguidedly kidnapped you. I AM the captain. They call me Ladyhawk."

The Golden Hawk is her ship. I just gawk. Which is very unladylike but I'm unable to stop.

An hour later I've come to understand that two of her men drugged me and brought me aboard her ship to take me to the island. She was unaware of that until after we were out at sea. The men wanted a woman to keep on the island to use when they docked there. She had explained to them that it had to be willing women, not captives. I understand what she's telling me, but it's all so unreal.

At least I know why I was so sick. Between the drug they used and being on the sea, I was bound to be quite ill.

"What will happen to me on the Hawk?"

"Nothing, if I can help it. You are to remain locked in this room, for your own safety. The men know you are aboard, so this is the ONLY place you will be safe." She also said she would take me to her island and then she'd find a different merchant ship to sail me back home. It seemed a practical plan.

I didn't know where her island was. I didn't even want to think about all the ways I was unsafe. I had no idea how they'd get me on to another ship without the same personal safety issues with those men.

At least when she's learned I could read and write, as well as do advanced mathematics, she gave me work to do. I mostly read through old correspondence, checked figures in record books, wrote letters and recorded information. I actually enjoyed it immensely. I felt productive, like I was contributing, earning my meals and I was being treated as an employee, not a woman. I guess that's because the captain was a rather unconventional woman herself.

From studying the correspondence, I learned a great deal about everything to do with her ship, her routes, her trading partners and her enemies. Sometimes the same people were on both lists, friend and enemy. I understood that two sided feeling better than she knew. Yesterday and today she's been very agitated but I haven't figured out the reason yet. Asking is unwise. I've learned that, too.

That very night I heard her arguing with some of the crew right in the gangway, outside the cabin door. The men were trying to reason with her, convince her to let them have their way and she kept refusing. A moment later, the hall was quiet and she entered alone and barred the door behind her. She looked right at me and told me I had to go. I was more trouble than I was worth, even with all the paperwork I'd done, she said.

The men were getting impatient and she feared they would soon break down her door and take me. They were distracted and the only way to get them back under control was to remove the young woman from their vicinity. She wasn't taking me to her island, we were still too far away. She was trying to come up with a plan for me, as quickly as possible. I would be off the Golden Hawk in the next 36 hours, one way or another.

It sounded ominous. I was scared. I was about to be out of the grease and into the fire. Why would a different ship full of men act any differently? She was just passing off her problem to someone else and as far as I could see, it couldn't possibly end well for me. I would most likely die on the next ship, if I could survive this one, that is. I'm sure I'm going to die and no one from home knows where I am.

In the middle of the night, she shook me awake. She had a russet colored gown in her hands and a string of black pearls. She stood and watched me clean my face with the cool water in the basin. She hovered as I did my hair. And then she helped me into the satin gown, that was a much finer fabric than even my best blue dress. She wrapped the pearls around my thin neck twice and attached the clasp. She wouldn't allow me to ask any questions, or speak at all.

After I was finished I was amazed at my transformation. I looked good in this color and the black pearls on my ivory white skin, were striking to say the least. But why? I felt beautiful but filled with dread. I'm either being trussed up to be fed to the dogs or I'm leaving the ship for a complete unknown. Both were terrible.

I sat alone now, waiting in the silence. The ship feels rather still and that is worrisome. She finally comes back, this time with a long, hooded, rough brown cloak. Under it, I could be anyone, that's the point, I'm sure. She grips my upper arm very tightly and drags me out of the room after I don the cloak. I have never been out of that room, so I'm trying to observe my surroundings while trying to see what is up ahead at the same time.

As we climb the ladder to the main deck, I can see that we're anchored and there are four or five other dark silhouettes of variously sized ships floating in this calm water along with us. One is huge and towers over the others. I hear a celebration and I can see a massive fire on the shore with revelers dancing all around it. The party looks exciting, but it's a sailor party, so I'm probably not going to enjoy it.

We board a tiny boat to row to shore. After the short jaunt, I have to climb a ladder from the waters edge up until the shore starts to slope at a less severe angle. I stand there with Captain Ladyhawk. She grabs my arm tightly again and says close to my ear, so I can hear her over the music, that I need to stay wrapped in the cloak and don't show anything that's under it, nothing. I nod.

We make our way towards a big canvas tent with guards stationed outside. We stop and wait. And wait. And wait. My feet are starting to hurt. Finally, a crusty old sailor comes out of the tent and the captain of the guard goes in. He comes right back out and he fetches Ladyhawk and I. We are escorted into the tent. She tells me to stand still, keep my eyes down and wait until I'm spoken to. I do as she says. I hear her address the man who must be the occupant of this structure.

From their conversation, I've gleaned that he is The Pirate Balthazar. Oh no, he's said to be brutal and cruel. He's one of the most feared pirates all along the coast and beyond. This celebration is in his honor. Ladyhawk thanks him for the invitation and the opportunity to get back into his good graces. I'm curious about that. And then the thing I dreaded most, happens. She tells him she has brought him a gift.

She orders me to step to the center of the space and present myself. I'm the gift. I expect to be dead by morning. I step forward and lift my head slightly. She unhooks the cloak clasp and with a flourish, she unveils me. I don't lift my head any higher but my eyes come up and I get a look at the infamous pirate Balthazar. My breath is knocked from my chest by his striking beauty. He looks like a dark angel instead of a dread pirate.

He looks huge. Really, really huge. His shoulders are obscenely wide, his neck is thick and muscular. His legs stretch out in front of him for miles and then cross at his ankles in his giant, tall boots, seeming impossibly long. Hair, a rich shade of brown, hangs onto his collar, but still looks groomed. He has dark stubble on his cheeks and square chin. The shape and proportions of his face and body are perfect to create a unbelievably handsome man, so masculine, and yet breathtakingly beautiful. But his eyes. They are the most incredible feature on this perfect man. They are a bright aqua blue, the color of the warm water around the Caribbean islands that I've read about. I'm mesmerized.

I hear Ladyhawk telling me to introduce myself. I curtsey low, my eyes downcast, and I say that my name is Winifred. And when I look back up he's staring at my face, my golden eyes. He speaks, and even though I've heard him speaking this whole time, he's now addressing me, and he sounds like rich, dark whiskey. I almost can't pay attention to him because I'm distracted by him so much.

I now notice that there are several other men in the tent. They are looking at me like they want to consume me and it's unnerving. Balthazar calls me to him, and he called me Winnie. I walk to his chair. He pats his lap and tells me to sit.

I do sit, on his left leg. He wraps his hand around my waist and I'm so nervous. I don't usually let men touch me at all. This one is the one I'd make an exception for, but also he's the one I'm most afraid of.

Captain Ladyhawk leaves and the next visitors are escorted in. And here I sit, on his knee like his lap dog. I hate it but I feel safer here than I would anywhere else on this island. He's making it quite clear I'm his property, and that feels protective. But this man will kill me. I've no doubt. The mix of feelings has numbed me.

Several guests later, he leaned close to me and he asked if I needed to switch to the other leg. I nodded. I figured a moment to stand and stretch would feel good and his leg could be getting tired. When I stood and looked at his leg, I erased that last thought. He is so large, he probably didn't even feel me sitting on him at all.

On his right leg, he pulls me up closer to him and his arm anchors around my waist, tightly. He pulls me even a little closer and his arm relaxes and I feel like I'm his companion, not his property. I relax as much as I can. The visitors never seem to stop. He had his guard send the rest of them away finally. He says to the men around us that he's going back to the ship. The men start going about the business of moving this operation back on to the water.

While we're waiting there, without thinking I say "it's a shame you had to sit here and receive all these visitors while all the others got to enjoy the party that was thrown in your honor."

He tilts his head to the side and gives me the most curious look. I conclude immediately that I wasn't given permission to speak, especially about his goings on. I just lost another hour of my very short life, I fear.

He helps me stand and then he stands himself. He's an actual giant of a man. He's at least six and half feet tall. I feel petite and feminine next to this handsome mountain of a man. He takes my small hand in his and I follow behind him through the party and to the shore. The boat to his ship is much larger than the one I'd ridden to the shore from the Hawk.

He floats down the ladder with a grace that makes his enormous size look even more powerful. He stands in the boat and I turn around to go down the ladder backwards but he calls me Winnie again and I look at him and he's reaching up his arms to me. I step into his giant hands and lifts me down into the boat gently. It felt like flying. I sat on the back bench, silent as we set off.

We're heading right for the gigantic ship that I had been in awe of when we came on to the deck of the Hawk. I wonder out loud what her name is. I don't realize I spoke until his giant, gentle deep voice says, "this is Calypso. She's a beauty, don't you think?"

I say she is beautiful and powerful and that it's an interesting reference for her name. He asked if I know Homer. To answer him, I recite a passage of the poem, specifically where he writes about Calypso. He's silent.

Once aboard his massive ship, he escorts me to his chamber. The room where I'll most likely die. It's huge and comfortable. It fits this massive man perfectly. He points to a chair for me to sit. I sit. And then the interrogation begins. I'm totally confused. He asks who I'm spying for. Who I work for. He says that I need to be searched. I'm terrified and this isn't even how I expected to die.

I tell him the truth. I'm not a spy. I work at a tavern in Bridgeport. And that I have nothing for him to search. I came in these fancy clothes and that's all. He isn't convinced. He stands and goes about the room and locks every cabinet and drawer that has a lock on it. He gives me a stern look and leaves, locking me in.

It's so late. I was asleep when this whole thing started tonight and I'm so scared and exhausted. His giant bed looks like something from palace, I'd imagine, from the things I've read. I must lay down, but not there. I decide to curl up on a carpet on the floor by the stove, which isn't lit, but it's off to the side so he won't trample me under his massive boots when he returns.

Later I awake as he's setting me down in the big bed. I didn't even feel him pick me up. I look at his face and he just says "go back to sleep, little bird."

And I do, this bed is pure heaven. In the morning I awake alone. I'm not sure if I'm glad or sad. I hate how conflicted I feel about every single thing about this pirate.