Chapter Text
Kate felt, among other things, royally pissed off as she sat in the back of the dingy old rowboat on the calm sea.
She had been interrupted during a particularly lively game of chess in the gardens, had been kidnapped by four pirates, and been forced to board a barely seaworthy-looking boat with two rather unsavoury-looking men. Her rope bindings were beginning to chafe, she was sitting on about a dozen splinters, and the sun was in her eyes. Royally pissed was an understatement.
Kate was content to sit there feeling sorry for herself, but felt the need to at least try and spark up a conversation with her captors. If she was friendly, she thought, they might treat her with kindness when they made it to the large ship that she could see looming on the horizon.
"So," she said, "who's ship am I being taken to?"
One of the men, a handsome and stocky older man of African dissent, looked up from the oars he was rowing and regarded her with a suspicious eye.
"You'll find out when you get to the ship," he said shortly and returned to his rowing.
"Come on, we'll be there soon enough. Shouldn't I know how to address my captor?" Kate said
"She has a point there, Scobell," the other man, who couldn't have been much older than Kate, said, nudging his companion.
Scobell, as the man was called, did nothing but grunt and continue his rowing, effectively shutting down the conversation. The other man turned back to her and smiled, something like sympathy glinting in his teal eyes.
"Sorry, Scobell's got seniority. You understand."
"I see," she said, "And you are?"
"Timothy Webster, at your service!" The man smiled, holding out a hand for her to shake. It took him a moment to remember that her hands were tied behind her back with coarse rope, and he gave a small apologetic smile.
Kate was struck by how friendly he seemed. He greeted her as if they were meeting at a tea house or salon, not on a pirate's rowboat. Kate hoped that the rest of the crew would be as cordial, but she sincerely doubted it as they grew nearer to the ship, and she began to make out the faces that stared at her from over the taffrail.
There were faces of all colours, ages, and states of cleanliness. Some stared directly at her, sizing her up. Others looked to the pirates in the boat that sailed alongside hers, waving at them or shouting down to their fellow crewmates. Kate was relieved to see a few female faces amongst the crowd as their boat was tied to the pulley system and hoisted up to the main deck.
It wasn't until the rowboat was tied down firmly that Timothy reached over and cut her rope bindings. Kate immediately rubbed at her wrists, noting the blistering sores that circled them like bracelets against her pale skin.
Kate gathered her skirts and stood shakely. The boat rocked in mid-air and Kate felt her balance shift, sending her tumbling over the side of the boat nearest to the ship. She would have hit the deck with considerable force if it hadn't been for a pair of arms catching her fall. Kate heard the laughter of the crew as she steadied herself, gripping the arms that caught her and suddenly noticing the black ink that sprawled over the heavily scarred skin of her saviour.
Kate looked up in an instant and her gaze was met with a pair of piercing brown eyes. The man that caught her was middle aged, with a full brown beard that was a mess of braids, scraps of fabric, and beads. A tricorn hat adorned his unruly, windswept hair. But his most identifying feature was an ugly scar on his cheek, perfectly vertical, that stretched down from his cheekbone to his chin. Kate had seen that face before, in copied engravings at the New York City townhall. They warned of a dangerous man. They warned of a ruthless killer. They warned of pirate captain Allan Pinkerton.
Upon her recognition, Kate swiftly pulled out of his embrace and jumped back, allowing her fear to show on her face for the first time. Pinkerton, for his part, laughed heartily, and was joined by his crew.
"You dinnae need to be afeared lass, you're worth much more to us alive and unharmed than you are dead," Pinkerton said in a heavy Scottish accent, tears of mirth shining in his eyes.
Kate stood upright, brushing off her outer petticoats, and looking Pinkerton in the eye.
"How much am I worth to you?" Kate asked, forcing her voice to remain level.
"£2,500 sterling, lass."
Kate gasped. "Surely not!"
"Aye, and I'm positive your family will pay," Allan said, eyeing her up.
"You don't seriously think they have that kind of money on hand! It will take months to get that amount together in bills, at least until after the harvest," Kate said, feeling for the first time that she might have the upper hand.
"What?"
A voice behind Pinkerton sounded and a man about her age stepped forward. He was tall, with dirty blonde hair and eyes bluer than the sea she had just sailed on. He had a beard, but his was rather neatly trimmed. He was handsome, strikingly so, with high cheekbones and perfectly plump lips. In another situation, Kate might have been charmed by his good looks, but the annoyance in his eyes and the tone of his voice made him seem more like a petulant child than a grown man.
"We may be rich, but no one has that much money at the ready. That's more than most would see in a lifetime!" Kate said, failing to stop a grin from stretching across her face.
"I knew we shouldn't have risked taking her! Now we're stuck with her for who knows how long!" The man said as if she wasn't even there.
"I'm sorry my presence is such as inconvenience to you, but you'll remember that I didn't ask to be kidnapped!" Kate said, directing her ire at the young man. He glared at her as the crew members began to murmur amongst themselves.
"Alright now, calm down everyone!" Pinkerton yelled above the crowd. They quickly fell silent.
"I will admit that this was not as well thought out as it should have been; however, the money we make out of this will far surpass any trouble that she causes while she is here. For now, Miss Warne will be treated as a guest."
Kate's eyes widened, the gravity of the situation sinking in. She would be stuck aboard The Carfrae for at least six months, maybe more. She gulped, looking around at the pirates who surrounded her, her housemates for who knows how long. Not many looked very happy at the prospect of living with her, and she agreed with their sentiment.
"Now, Miss Warne, my son William will be in charge of your well being while you're aboard my ship. Dinnae fash, he willnae try anything untoward if he values both of his ears," Pinkerton said, gesturing to the blonde-haired man that Kate had just finished admonishing.
The man, William, stood there with his mouth open, looking between her and his father. "Father," he said, "you can't be serious."
"I am, son. Deadly. Now, you will escort her to the women's dormitory and make sure she is settled," Pinkerton said, and with a wave of his hand, he walked off. The crew, taking this as an order to get back to work, all returned to their jobs as they prepared the ship to sail.
Kate looked back at Will, who looked sufficiently annoyed. "Come on," he grumbled and began to walk in the direction of the door that led to the lower decks. Kate gathered her skirts and took off jogging after him.
"And this is where you'll be staying," Will said, not without a bit of sarcasm, as he opened the door to her room and stood aside.
The room was small, located near to the captain's quarters, with a window and a simple wooden bed. At the foot of the bed was a chest and a table with a wooden stool leaned against the wall next to the door. It was... quaint. Smaller than any place Kate had stayed in before, but she was glad to have her own bed. She was worried she would have to stay in one of the hammocks that hung precariously from the ceiling in the women's quarters.
"I'll be down to collect you at supper time," Will said, bowing low and dramatically in mock deference. Kate glared at him as he stood straight and strolled out of the door, letting it shut soundly behind him.
Kate took a deep breath in and let it out into the almost empty room. She took a few steps forward and turned around, sitting down on the bed. It wasn't soft, but she didn't expect it to be. She looked around her room, if she could even call it hers. It looked like it had belonged to a cabin boy, given its size and proximity to the captain's quarters. Whoever stayed there seemed to be long gone, a layer of dust settled over the furniture.
The ship rocked slowly back and forth, and Kate felt lucky that she wasn't predisposed to sea sickness. She sighed. It was going to be a long six months.
The door creaked open and Kate jumped in her seat. She expected to see a person, an angry pirate perhaps, but instead a grey cat slinked into the room, walking quietly over to her and settling at her feet.
Kate smiled at it, reaching down to carefully lift it into her lap. She stroked its soft fur and it purred lightly.
"You and me, hm, how did we get here?" Kate said quietly. The cat, of course, said nothing, just continued to purr contentedly in her lap.