Chapter 1: A Pirate's Life For Me
August 24, 1720
Southend-on-Sea, Essex, England
The carriage felt stuffy as I rode it toward the dock with Weatherby Swann and his daughter, Elizabeth, in the seat in front of me. My unofficial guardian, Cutler Beckett, was seated to my left, chatting with Elizabeth's father about some sort of business deal that had taken place between them. I ignored them as my thoughts lingered elsewhere.
Today was the day I'd been dreading for weeks. The king had given Weatherby the chance to become the new governor of Port Royal due to their close friendship. He graciously accepted, of course, and I was happy for him and his good fortune, but I didn't want them to leave. Elizabeth and her father had become something akin to family to me during the last year. Before meeting them, I'd been lonely and homesick. There were still times I missed my home even though I hadn't stepped foot there in two years, but the Swann's had made London more bearable than I ever imagined it would be.
A quiet sigh escaped my lips while I stared out the window with a small frown.
It was a perfect day for sailing, much to my chagrin. The sun was gradually rising along the horizon, shining its light down on the deep blue ocean and the bustling city. Non-threatening white puffy clouds gracefully blew across the surface of the bright blue sky. I could already see the many military and merchant vessels moored at the pier in the not-so-far distance. It was a beautiful sight to behold. If only I could enjoy it.
I heard Beckett clear his throat. "Aeliana?" he asked, trying to get my attention.
My eyes that mirrored the Caribbean Sea widened a minute fraction as I sat up straight and looked over at him, taken off guard by suddenly being addressed.
"Woss it, then, eh?" I replied, instinctively reverting to my original cockney accent without even thinking about it.
Beckett's deep blue eyes were on my smaller nine-year-old form as he watched me closely with a hint of surprise on his usually composed features. His attire was the latest style in London and purposefully showed off his wealth and status. The lower half of his body was covered by a pair of black breeches he'd tucked underneath a pair of leather, knee-high boots. A white linen shirt with ruffles at the end of the long sleeves was under an elegant dark blue velvet waistcoat that reached his knees. Despite the heat, he also managed to put on a black long-sleeved overcoat that reached his knees and had a white cravat around his neck he'd tucked under his waistcoat. His short, naturally curly, brown hair was hidden underneath a dark brown wig that was styled in a low ponytail. A single ringlet went over his ears, and a black ribbon was tied to the base of the ponytail to hold it back. To finish the look, he had a black bicorne hat on top of his head.
He wasn't, in my opinion, a notably attractive man, although many women wished he would court them. I personally can't imagine why. The only reason I could come up with was his money and prestige. He was, additionally, one of the few bachelors left in his social circles that hadn't married despite already being thirty-three. However, they were lucky he wasn't interested because, behind his somewhat pleasant exterior, he was cruel and cold. I pitied the poor woman who would end up marrying him if he chose to do so; it would mean they were entering into a contract with the devil himself.
The surprise on his face slowly shifted to displeasure, albeit it was barely noticeable. Only the very few who knew him well enough could see it.
"Aeliana?" he questioned again, this time with a subtle warning.
I was confused about why he was annoyed at first, but it didn't take me long to realize the reason. He was displeased with my accent, the dialect of the impoverished working class.
He, and even I, to a certain extent, believed it'd been forced out of me by this point due to the endless hours he had a linguist work with me to make me sound like one of the English elite. I couldn't sound like a peasant, after all, lest I wished to hurt his image. It would appear though I still have more of my past with me than I thought. A part of me couldn't help but relish in the fact that he hadn't been able to change me completely.
"Yes, Mr. Beckett?" I asked, correcting my speech. "What is it?"
"Are you all right, my dear?" Weatherby asked with concern and confusion in his voice.
My gaze shifted over to the kind middle-aged man sitting directly in front of Beckett.
Weatherby Swann was a man with warm chocolate brown eyes and short brown hair that he hid underneath a long dark brown curly wig and a black tricorne hat with black feathers. His clothes were just as fashionable as Beckett's, showing that he was also well off in society. His waistcoat, overcoat, and breeches were brown like his eyes, and a white cravat with decorative lace along its surface hung down over his chest. When I first caught sight of his attire, I felt relief knowing that he had chosen to wear some color instead of the black clothing he'd grown accustomed to wearing in his grief.
He had the unfortunate experience of losing his wife a year before I had the opportunity to meet the small family, leaving him a widower and Elizabeth motherless. It was a pain I was well acquainted with, and it was probably the reason why I was able to grow so close to him and his daughter. We were kindred spirits who happened to find each other when we were most vulnerable and alone. He'd become something like a father to me, and he treated me much like a daughter. If I could, I would run away with them to Port Royal and never come back. They were the only good thing that had come from the situation I'd found myself in.
"Of course," I told him politely with a small smile and nod. "I'm fine, Governor Swann. I just have a lot on my mind."
Warm hands engulfed mine, and I looked at the twelve-year-old girl straight in front of me.
Her warm chocolate brown orbs, much like her father's, were the first thing I laid my eyes on. She had a small but weak smile on her pale, freckled face. Her brown hair was curled into ringlets and up in a fancy hairdo. She was also dressed stylishly. Her outfit was a beautiful blue brocade dress with small white frills poking out from the round collar and bottom edge of the elbow-length sleeves.
She was Elizabeth Swann: my sister, my friend, and my confidant. Elizabeth was one of the few people who knew of my fascination with pirates and legends of the sea. It was an interest and attraction that also became her own, much to her father's dismay. We had shaped each other in ways neither of us could have possibly imagined in the little while we've been together.
"This won't be goodbye," she assured me. "You and I will always find a way to be together, no matter how far away we are."
"Lizzie," I said with a weak smile of my own.
Her words did little to reassure me, but I appreciated them all the same.
The rest of the ride to the harbor seemed too short and yet too long. I'd never been in a situation where I actually dreaded going to the ocean. It was always something I longed to do since my arrival in London two years ago, but Beckett made sure to stop me whenever I tried.
When the carriage finally stopped, Ian Mercer opened the door on mine and Elizabeth's side. He was a tall Scottish man with a tight, slightly wrinkled face and slick dark brown hair that was tied back by a black ribbon in a small low ponytail. His brown eyes were far different from the Swann's. They were always flat with a cold and calculating look in them. It was unsurprising considering he served as Beckett's personal assistant in the East India Trading Company and performed some of his more sinister agendas. I questioned if the man had a single ounce of conscience inside of him.
Unlike most of Beckett's associates, Mercer wasn't from the upper class. It showed in the way he spoke and his appearance, specifically his clothing. He wore a white linen shirt underneath a plain thin woolen black waistcoat and overcoat, a white cravat, brown breeches, and well worn black knee-high leather boots. Black leather gloves covered his hands, which added to his menacing look. They were anything but luxurious. To Beckett, however, his intelligence and the fact he was notoriously good at his job seemed to make up for this shortcoming. He wouldn't keep him around otherwise.
I tried my best to ignore him as I stepped out of the coach before anyone else could. The wind blew through my long brown hair as I stared out at the vast ocean in front of me. I took a deep breath of the familiar salty ocean air I'd missed for so long, and, for the first time today, a real smile graced my lips. All of my worries temporarily vanished from my mind.
Elizabeth followed my lead, and it wasn't long before her father and Beckett had also exited the carriage. I watched with excitement as sailors from all walks of life moved along the harbor, either filling their ships with cargo or taking it off. This... this was where I belonged, in the hustle and bustle of the common folk and the sea.
Weatherby led us over to the HMS Dauntless, a military vessel that would be used to transport him and Elizabeth to Port Royal.
"Impressive," Beckett said whilst he, Weatherby, and Mercer stared at it. "This is one of the king's strongest ships in the British Royal Navy, isn't it?"
Elizabeth moved closer to me. "Come on," she whispered. "Let's get on the ship while they're distracted."
A smirk appeared on my face as I nodded my head in agreement. I had to grab the long skirt of my beautiful red dress as we rushed over to the gangplank and ran onto the ship. Once we were finally on it, I could feel the vessel move slightly with the current of the water underneath. Many men wearing the British Royal Navy uniform walked along its upper gun deck, trying to prepare it so they could set sail.
I grabbed Elizabeth's hand and eagerly led us up to the helm of the ship. The view from where we stood was considerably different than the one on land. It gave the illusion that we were already sailing along the vast deep ocean. Another strong gust of wind blew through my hair, and I took another deep breath to soak it in. This was what freedom looked and felt like.
"Lizzie?" I asked after a few long moments of enjoying the sight before us.
"Yes?" she asked, looking at me with curiosity.
"I think we should do something," I replied with a mischievous smirk.
"What?" she said, almost too enthusiastically.
"Let's sing our favorite song together one last time," I suggested. "This time, we're actually on a ship. It'll seem like we're really pirates."
She gave me a look of uncertainty. "What if we get in trouble?"
"This is the last time we'll be together for the next little while. Shouldn't we make the most of it? Besides, it's only a song. It's not like we're doing anything too improper. People sing all the time."
My argument seemed to be enough to convince her as a smile broke out on her lips in response. "All right," she agreed.
We both grabbed each other's hands and opened our mouths to merrily sing the song at the top of our lungs.
"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot.
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot.
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We extort, we pilfer, we filch, and sack.
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!
Maraud and embezzle, and even high-jack.
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We kindle and char, inflame and ignite.
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!
We burn up the city, we're really a fright.
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!
We're rascals, scoundrels, villains, and knaves.
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs.
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We're beggars and blighters, ne'er-do-well cads.
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!
Aye, but we're loved by our mommies and dads—"
Only moments before we were able to start the last line of the song, I felt someone tightly clutch my shoulder. A gasp escaped my lips as I whipped my head over to look at the person who'd startled me.
It was one of the navy men on board the vessel. He was a portly built middle-aged man with a ruddy complexion caused by many hours of being out on the deck and a distinctive mutton chop brown beard. Unlike his fellow colleagues, he sported a grey bowler hat that covered most of the short brown hair on top of his head. His blue eyes were narrowed on me as he stared at me with a grave expression on his face.
"Quiet!" he said tensely with an almost crazed look in his eyes. "Pirates sail these oceans. You don't want to call 'em upon us before we even leave port, do ya?"
"W-wot?" I asked, taken off guard as my heart raced inside of my chest.
He paused as he stared into my eyes.
"Mr. Gibbs," a man called out sternly. "That will do."
The man in question was dressed in an opulent British Navy uniform that was slightly different from the others, revealing he held a position of power on the vessel. His uniform consisted of the usual white breeches, spotless white stockings, and black shoes with buckles, but that's where the similarities ended. I could see the ends of the long-sleeved white linen shirt he had underneath his pristine gold-trimmed sleeveless white waistcoat and navy blue gold-trimmed wool broadcloth coat that both reached his knees. A white cravat went around his neck that he'd tucked underneath the collar of his waistcoat. His wig was dark brown and styled in the same fashion as Beckett's with a black ribbon at the nape of his neck, although the ponytail wasn't quite as long. The outfit was completed with a black tricorne hat he had on top of his head.
I wasn't sure what to make of him as he stood tall and proud with his arms behind his back and stared down at Mr. Gibbs with his deep green eyes. He exuded poise and grace from every pour, and the usual air of arrogance I've seen with most people in the upper class radiated from him in all its glory. He also had an air of authority that promoted the image of the position of leadership he undoubtedly had on the ship, adding to his unapproachableness.
I was grateful for his assistance, however, especially when Mr. Gibbs let go of my shoulder and turned his gaze away from me to look at him. Weatherby, Beckett, and Mercer were standing behind the unknown man, silently watching the scene unfold before them.
"They were singin' about pirates!" Mr. Gibbs asserted. "Bad luck to be singin' about pirates before we leave port. Mark my words."
"Consider them marked," the man replied with a hint of sarcasm before shifting his gaze to the side in disinterest and dismissal. "On your way."
"Aye, Lieutenant," Mr. Gibbs grumbled before he stepped away. "It's bad luck to have women on board too, even two miniature ones."
I wanted to comment that it was merely an old wives' tale that women being on a ship was bad luck, but I held my tongue. You couldn't reason with a man and his superstitions.
"Thank you, sir," I said as I looked up at the man who'd managed to get us out of our predicament.
His green orbs found their way to mine as he opened his mouth to respond, but he paused as he gazed into them. I could tell from the way his eyes widened a small fraction that he was taken slightly off guard by their appearance, just like Mr. Gibbs had been. Whatever he was going to say seemed to have suddenly left him.
This wasn't the first time someone reacted to my eyes like this. They were, as Beckett put it once, otherworldly. Many men, and even a few women, had become entranced when staring into them, particularly men and women of the sea.
"I think it'd be rather exciting to meet a pirate," Elizabeth said, not noticing our silent interaction.
Her words were enough to break him out of his trance. "Think again, Miss Swann," he replied before he stepped over to us and looked out toward the bow of the ship. "Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves." Elizabeth and I looked at him in confusion, and he gave us a closed-lipped smile. "A short drop and a sudden stop."
We exchanged bewildered expressions, his seemingly apparent joke going right over our heads. Our gazes turned to Mr. Gibbs, who was still standing nearby with a mop in his hand. He used the bandana around his neck to mime a hanging.
Elizabeth and I took sharp intakes of breath then looked at the man in shock.
"That's barbaric!" I shouted indignantly. I was horrified and displeased by his words and attitude. "Not all pirates are horrible people! What if the person being accused of piracy has done nothing wrong?! Would you still kill them then?!"
The man smiled at me. "There are no good pirates, Miss—?"
"It's Lovelace," I said with a frown while glaring up at him. "And you think a proper English gentleman is always good?"
"Of course," he replied with a perplexed look. "Those who obey the law are far better than a pirate could ever be. The song you sang only moments before now speaks of the very atrocities that they perform. Decent law-abiding men don't resort to such acts."
I loudly scoffed at his remark, an action that only seemed to bewilder him further.
"What if the man in question twists the law to suit his own needs in an attempt to punish someone for doing the right thing?" I asked. "Would he still be considered a good person just because he followed the law?"
"What?" he asked, taken aback by the question.
Clearly, he hadn't ever thought of something like that before. Maybe it was too sinister of a plot for him to even think of. My anger toward him subsided a little from that thought. Still, I felt enraged due to his flippant statement and attitude towards hangings.
I sensed Beckett's eyes boring into me but continued to ignore him as I proceeded with my relentless interrogation of the nameless man in front of me.
"Would you still condemn a man who has no other choice but to perform an act of piracy to stay true to himself or regret his actions for the rest of his life?"
"Aeliana?" Weatherby asked, flustered, and entirely confused about where my line of questioning was coming from.
The man's eyebrows were furrowed in bewilderment as he stared into my eyes with his mouth hanging slightly open. He was speechless from my bold inquiries and trying to wrap his mind around them. The fact that he seemed to be so shocked by the questions and hadn't instantly answered them gave me a little hope in him, but I wasn't entirely holding my breath. Men like him are never easily persuaded, and I couldn't help but have reservations about his conscience if he can talk so easily of killing another man.
When it was clear he wasn't going to or couldn't answer, I spoke while staring into his eyes with a serious expression on my face. "Rest assured, sir, there are men just as evil as you believe pirates are among the proper English gentlemen. They may be even more so since they can hide behind the guise of justice and their power."
An awkward silence followed my words as the man continued to gawk at me.
"What a romantic way of looking at piracy," Beckett said smoothly, speaking to me as if I was simply a child who didn't know what they were talking about. "Are you suggesting that men who are pirates have some sort of moral compass and can discern from right and wrong? Do you also believe that breaking the law by performing heinous acts can function as its own form of justice?"
My cheeks flushed. I wanted to yell at Beckett for distorting my words but held my tongue. I could see from the well-hidden annoyance in his piercing gaze that he wasn't happy with my actions. It would only make things worse if I argued with him.
"I apologize for Aeliana's forwardness and ardor, Lieutenant Norrington," he said politely to the man next to me. "She has a peculiar habit of viewing pirates under a fairy-tale-like lens and forgets the wickedness they possess."
Elizabeth decided to grab my hand, and I looked over at her. She had a strangely excited expression on her face, considering the tense air caused by the conversation.
"You just proposed that even proper English men could act like pirates, and some may use the law to hide behind, right?"
"Potentially?" I said as I nodded with a perplexed look on my face while we all gazed at her.
"What if there are men in the British Royal Navy that are pirates in disguise?" Elizabeth mused.
I saw Mr. Gibbs freeze from the corner of my eye and looked over at him with my eyes bright in intrigue.
"That's an interesting thought," I replied. "I'm sure there are. There must be. It would be the perfect disguise. Maybe Mr. Gibbs or" — I peered up at Lieutenant Norrington — "even you might be one yourself, considering your hard stance on piracy. Mayhap you're just compensating for something?"
Norrington stared at me dumbfounded and, if I wasn't mistaken, mildly insulted by what he believed was an accusation. Based on our conversation, I'm sure he was. I couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of satisfaction from it, still feeling a little put out about his careless idea of a joke.
"What?" he whispered in disbelief.
Weatherby decided to enter the conversation as he walked over to us with a concerned expression on his face. "Lieutenant Norrington and Mr. Beckett, I appreciate your fervor, but I'm concerned about the effect this subject will have on my daughter and Aeliana."
"My apologies, Governor," Lieutenant Norrington said with a bow of his head before he walked away.
"My apologies as well, Governor Swann," Beckett replied.
"Actually, I find it all fascinating," Elizabeth responded.
"As do I," I said in agreement.
I ignored the sharp look Beckett gave me for my remark.
"And that is what concerns me," Weatherby replied apprehensively, looking between the both of us. "Elizabeth, our ship will be departing shortly. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we comport ourselves as befits our class and station before we reach Port Royal for our new lives?" he lightly chastised.
She looked down toward the floor.
"I agree," Beckett said as he walked over and took his place in front of me. "Aeliana, it's not befitting to act or speak of pirates as you have today."
I had to fight the urge to say some snide remark as I hid my annoyance and looked down at the floor.
"Mr. Mercer, would you please escort Aeliana back to the carriage?"
My eyes widened in shock as I looked up at Beckett. I wasn't ready to be parted from Elizabeth or her father yet!
"But—"
"Miss Lovelace," Mr. Mercer called out expectantly, cutting me off.
I stared between Beckett and Mercer in devastation, but neither so much as flinched. Instead, their gazes were resolute. My shoulders slumped before Elizabeth's hold on my hand tightened. I gazed over at her as she smiled at me sadly. A pain shot through my heart.
"It looks like this is it," she said, graciously resigning to our fate.
We turned towards each other and hugged tightly.
"I'll miss you, Lizzie, so much," I whispered with sadness in my voice as tears threatened to gather in my eyes.
"And I, you," she replied.
We hesitantly let go of each other but held onto each other's hands.
"I'll make sure to write to you when we reach Port Royal."
"I'll write to you too," I promised.
We stared into one another's eyes for another long moment before I finally turned and looked over at Weatherby. He had a look of sadness, not much unlike his daughter's or mine, as he returned my gaze.
Although it wasn't entirely proper, I walked over to him and hugged him just as tightly as I had his daughter.
"I'll miss you," I whispered, trying not to cry.
He wrapped his arms around me and returned the hug.
"And I, you," he said softly, repeating Elizabeth's words.
With hesitation on both of our parts, we slowly let go of each other. I took another look at the two people who had brought light into my once lonely life as I stepped back. Tears gathered in my eyes.
"Miss Lovelace," Mercer called out again.
"Goodbye," I whispered softly, my voice cracking a little.
"Goodbye," Elizabeth and her father whispered.
Tears finally escaped my eyes as I turned away from them and began stepping slowly toward Mercer. He didn't even give me a look of pity as he started to lead me toward the exit of the ship. I paused several feet from the gangplank as Mercer continued to walk forward, not noticing that I had stopped walking. I tightly clenched the skirt of my dress as tears fell from my cheeks like many raindrops.
I don't want this... I want to go with them! I want to go to Port Royal!
When I turned my head to look back at the helm, my gaze met Elizabeth's. She was still standing there with her hands on the railing, watching me. I turned around to face her and took a step forward to run back to her. However, a firm hand clasped my shoulder from behind before I was able to take another stride forward.
"Miss Lovelace," Mercer said.
"I want to go to Port Royal!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, attempting to break loose from his hold.
He went to grab my arm to get a better hold on me, but I kicked his shin as hard as I possibly could. His grip on my shoulder loosened, and I was able to escape. I immediately rushed toward Elizabeth.
The navy men on the vessel were all quiet as they watched me run toward the helm as fast as my legs could carry me. I hardly registered anyone around me as I stared up at Elizabeth while running forward. Her face was filled with surprise as I approached the stairs leading up to the helm. She went to head towards me as I made it onto the staircase but stopped when Beckett took his place at the top of the stairs to block me off.
I immediately froze, halfway up the steps.
This time even Beckett couldn't hide his irritation as he stared down at me with smoldering anger in his eyes, although it was still relatively composed.
"Aeliana?" he asked with a hint of warning in his voice. "What are you doing? Didn't I tell you to go back to the carriage?"
I looked over my shoulder and saw that Mercer was already at the base of the stairs to stop me from running the other way. He didn't look happy. In fact, he looked even more annoyed than Beckett. Since I had kicked him, I couldn't blame him.
My desperate gaze fell on Elizabeth once again.
I have to run.
I looked around and grabbed the railing of the staircase, but Beckett grabbed my arm before I could push myself up into the air. My body instinctively tensed as I gazed up at him.
He bent forward and put his mouth next to my ear. "Do not do anything else that is untoward. You won't like the consequences."
The grip I had on the railing tightened slightly, but I didn't do anything else. I knew it wasn't an empty threat.
"Come," he said as he stood straight. "It is time to leave."
He kept his grip on my arm as he pulled me down the stairs, and we began to make our way towards the gangplank. Everyone on the ship was watching us closely in total silence. I turned my head to look at Elizabeth and her father, who had chosen to stand next to her. They were both staring down at me with sorrow that matched my own. I stared at them in longing until they finally vanished from view.
Once again, I was alone.
The excitement and happiness I initially felt by being able to be in the bustling crowds of the pier were non-existent as we made our way toward the carriage. Beckett made sure I was the first one inside of the coach before climbing inside and sitting in the seat straight across from me.
Mercer closed the door behind him, and I looked out of the window to stare at the ocean. Beckett didn't speak until the horses were pulling the carriage forward as we made our way back to his manor.
"It would appear there is still some work we must do on you."
"You'll never be able to change me completely," I countered, frowning at him. "The way I am is as permanent as the mark of your past."
"You are a child trying to play an adult's game," he said, acting indifferent. I knew, though, I'd struck a nerve. "It would serve you better to know your place."
"My place is in Calabar, where you picked me up."
"And yet you were given away without your mother so much as batting an eyelash."
"Blow it out your bloomin' ass!" I snapped, feeling the sting of his words.
He paused, his cold gaze on me. "It would also do you well to learn to control your temper."
I looked away from him angrily and stared out of the window again. My eyes happened to land on the Dauntless as it unfurled its sails and began to leave the harbor. A longing expression I couldn't hide appeared on my features.
If only I was with Elizabeth and her father and on my way to Port Royal. If only I was free.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
FanfictionQueen25
FanfictionQueen25 There is the first chapter! As you can see, I decided to play on the fact Beckett knew the Swann's before the events of Dead Man's Chest. With any hope, I was able to keep everyone in character and do them justice. This story has been strangely difficult for me to write. The fact I'm able to publish this though, means I managed to overcome that problem eventually.
As an extra note, I discovered that tricorne and bicorne hats used to be called cocked hats. For simplicity and recognition sake, I referred to them as their current name when describing them.
I hope all of you enjoyed the chapter! I look forward to seeing all of you in the next installment! Remember, constructive criticism and comments are always welcome! If you liked it, add it to your library!
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