On the dingy floor of the storage compartment on the lower deck of the ship she was traveling on, young Elizabeth Summers, Daughter of Hank Summers, and heiress to more money then she knew existed, hid in a dark corner as she clutched her specially ordered stuffed pig. Mr. Gordo would protect her from the men above.
“Men.” She thought to herself. Even at the tender age of 11 Ms. Summers knew enough to understand these were not just men that had attacked the ship she was traveling upon. No, not men but pirates.
She’d heard the tales enough to recognize the flag she had seen just before being ushered to the lower deck and stashed away by one of the escorts hired to attend to her during the trip. She was being sent home, back to England by her father. Her mother having recently passed away, it had been the philanthropist’s idea to have his sister raise his only child. He was but a man, and had no idea how to bring up a young lady.
There was that, and the fact he simply couldn’t be bothered with it. He was a busy man after all. A business man. He ran one of the most successful trading companies and had several ports of call. These things took more attention than he had as it was. The last thing he needed to do was take more time for a child.
And so, before she had time to grieve for her mother, Elizabeth was ushered out of her home and onto a boat, or a ship as she was corrected for having named the vessel incorrectly. Wesley, the coachman that had taken her to begin her journey had had tears in his eyes. The usually reserved man had even embraced her before watching her escorts lead her away to her new life.
Now she was sitting with her arms hugging her legs to her chest with Mr. Gordo trapped between as she shivered from fear, listening to the bangs and clatter, and shuffling and screaming coming from above. Her teeth chattered together when yet another fire shot. A pistol this time. The canons had quieted minutes earlier. Another piercing scream of a man came and her head shot up trying to see through the dark and past the wood planks above her head to the deck of the ship.
Every once in a while she could tell someone was right above her. The foot steps thumping and echoing all around sometimes knocked dust loose from the rafters that gave extra support to the ceiling. She was listening hard for one particular sound. She’d heard it when her body guard left her and tried to hear it again. She needed to try to prepare herself. She waited for the sounds of feet on the steps only a few feet from her hiding place.
So far, the noise was above her. The Captain and his men of The Cutter II seemed to be defending the ship fiercely, but there was no way of knowing who had the upper-hand. The people her life was entrusted to, or the rogues who would take it without a second thought?
“Don’t worry Mr. Gordo.” She soothed herself through her most treasured toy. “The captain promised father. We will arrive safely in England.” And she continued listening.
Time passed in her little 11 year old mind. It was hard for her to measure how much, but she could tell that the number of people moving about was dwindling. There were fewer footfalls, fewer voices, and fewer clangs of swords attempting to cut through each other to get to their targets.
Then, it all seemed to stop. She could hear people now talking, crying, and one man screamed so loud Elizabeth could tell it was one of her personal guards. In fact it was the very man that had smiled at her, and told her not to move until he came for her.
Her blood drew from her face, and she suddenly felt very cold. “Please mommy.” She pled the darkness and began to rock herself back and forth in the small area among the crates that she had made her own. “Please?” She whimpered when she heard another voice, loud and unfamiliar one.
“Well gentleman,” Buffy heard the clear voice ring through the walls. “What are you waiting for?”
Then a roar of men yelling wordlessly followed and all the feet that had been still for only minutes moved in all directions. Elizabeth’s eyes darted from one corner to the other trying to follow the paths each pair of feet took but there were too many boots falling to wood, thudding from every direction.
She leaned back, and with eyes front boring holes into the crate’s side, still listening for someone to come down the wooden steps, Buffy waited. She held the wall behind her and slowly stood. The crates that had hidden her in the corner were stacked high enough that they hid her still, but only up to her forehead. Her bright blonde curls were pulled behind her in a ribbon leaving her from having to try to keep her vision clear, but she was unable to see over the crates so she began to move around them slowly.
There were only two rows of the personal cargo that blocked her view, also being carried along for the trip to the English port, but it took quite some time for her to get fully around on her still shaking legs. Not once had her grip loosened on her only friend, and the tiny pig went willingly.
She peered around the corner created by the parcels to see the steps that lead up to the deck. They were empty, and her ears had not lied to her. No one had even lifted the door in the ceiling that led to her not so comfortable accommodations.
Her fear did not lessen though. The rowdy men above still yelled at random from treasures they found, and she now heard more noise just past the wall that separated the cargo from the passenger areas. Each with their own staircase, and each having only that way in or out.
She remembered, the trap door that led to this area was difficult to see on deck. It’s pattern matched well with the wooden floor it was set in.
She stood in wait for some sign that her hiding place had been found.
Her wait was not as long as she would have liked.
“Cap’n!” She heard a voice call just moments before she heard the squeal of the hinges and a heavy thud of the door hitting the deck revealing a plain set of steps steeper than would commonly be found leading to quarters.
She scurried back into her corner. Crates with markings she recognized as her father’s surrounded her. A circle with and X at its center. A burned J appeared just below the emblem.
These details were of no consequence once the footfalls thudded down the stairs though as renewed fear gripped her chest making breathing a more taxing effort than was natural.
“The cargo, Capt’n” A jovial rough voice bellowed above the noise of a good plunder.
Elizabeth peered over the top of the crates concealing her enough to see an unwashed scrubby pirate leaning down to see into the dark holdings in the belly of the ship. She ducked falling back with a silent thud thanks to the many layers of fabric covering her rear in the latest fashion and listened.
“Scabbs.” Another voce said. The one that had asked what the ‘gentlemen’ had been waiting for. Buffy held her breath and once again strangled Mr. Gordo.
The steps creaked as a set of boots hit them at their decent. “Ah yes.” She heard the voice echo within the walls.
She listened intently while the pirate, apparently the leader of the marauders, looked over each area, commenting as he went. “Yes this will fetch a grand price”, or “This will be of use,” While he took stock of his newly acquired belongings.
“Hmm?” He said just a few feet from her. He was just on the other side of her space. A few stacks of crates away.
“What have we here?” He questioned.
Elizabeth held her breath hoping he wouldn’t decide to come around the crates. Only a few steps and he would find her between the wall and the boxes being carried along the now cancelled journey. What they would do if they found her, she could not guess.
What she would do if found was even more of a desperate question. One she dare not entertain. But the thoughts came, and before she knew it her eyes had begun to tear as fear and confusion finally overcame the protection of the brave stuffed pig Mr. Gordo.
She listened as she heard the top of one of the crates being pried open. The sound of wood crying out against the intrusion was followed by the clunk of the top being set aside.
She looked up at the edge of the crates within the darkened space.
“What?” The voce asked. Before she had a chance to wonder what had him asking questions she saw one of her gowns landing at her feet. He’d tossed it aside.
Granted it wasn’t one of her favorite dresses. But still, it was hers. She glared at the edge again then saw a pink dress fall. One she’d worn to her mother’s and father’s anniversary, picked out because her mother loved her in pink.
Her face drew again, saddened. Then several other dresses followed and her memories came easily while recalling a shopping trip with her mother, or a stroll along the parkway and any number of simple moments she’d spent with her much missed parent.
Then it happened. A doll fell to the floor. He’d reached more personal items
The China doll was of little consequence. She’d asked for Mr. Gordo. Father had explained that it was a simple item, that of a pauper, not suitable for his daughter and she’d received the china doll instead.
Dark curls and a beautiful peach formal gown with lace edging peaked back at her after undoing the ribbon and tearing off the white paper on her most recent birthday.
She’d smiled and thanked her father as any daughter would. Only later did she tell her mother how she hated the peach dress.
At once the Summers’ girls had gone to work at making a baby blue dress that would offset the hair well. It took weeks of tiny stitches but the dress was perfect with ribbon lining the edges and a fur lining in the collar, “For the cool nights.” Her mother had explained.
The splintered green eyes stared back at Elizabeth. After the doll landed on the dull wood floor just feet from the hidden child, her porcelain face had broken in half from the impact.
The seemingly dead eye still left in tact held her gaze until a lullaby began. The young girls head whipped around staring in the direction of a familiar tune.
The song, it was unmistakable, and so was its source.
The last thing her mother had given after Mr. Gordo mysteriously showed up one week after the doll’s dress was completed. Her last birthday present.
A Music box.
She easily recalled the song her mother had sung to her as a baby and young child. The memories hit her and she was soon cooing like a baby, crying unbidden.
As the song played she tried to work past her anger and pain, standing once again peeking only slightly over the crates to see the man holding her treasured item and searching for a voice that could muster through her hiccups and sniffles.
After a deep intake of stuffy air she said in a shaky but demanding tone, “Unhand my music box.” And stared at the oddly well clothed rogue.
The man was caught off guard and quickly brought up the dagger he still held from prying the crate’s top off in defense, but soon realized that the tiny person peeking from behind an unopened crate was no threat. He lowered his weapon once again and craned his head forward to get a better look at the small girl.
She was definitely a child, not yet reaching her adolescence. A white dress with a blue ribbon weaving through the cloth around her neckline, along with the simple curls that were loosing their structure helped him discern that much. But he did not have a good view of the miniature person now giving him orders.
She could see his face and most of his upper torso. He towered over her and she immediately noted that this pirate in no way resembled the one that had discovered her refuge. He was well kempt and clean shaven. His clothing was pristine in comparison, although she noted a bit of blood on his right sleeve. He easily had reached his thirtieth year, and she considered that he may have passed on into his 40th. She watched him watching her and gathered a little more strength when he neither replied nor replaced her cherished item into its crate.
“Did you not hear me?” She asked with more force, taking a few tentative steps away from the corner attempting to coax her way out of it. “I will ask you to unhand that music box immediately.” She repeated herself with more confidence.
She obviously had no idea to whom she was speaking, he quickly realized. Possibly his unconventional wear was the cause, but he had to give the little thing credit for standing up at all. Most grown men would have stayed put until they thought they could escape. He’d heard begging and pleading for a life, cries for loved ones and deals to let others be slaughtered only to save ones own life. He’d traveled to islands none other had seen, and destroyed ones he wanted for himself. In all that he’d not once come upon a child crying over a music box. Nor one willing to stand up to him in such a manner.
He tipped his head up in a quick movement before asking. “Who are you?”
Elizabeth crossed her arms. “Why should I tell you?”
Taken aback, the pirate smiled, almost an amused smile. She could see no malice in his eyes. “I’ll make a trade with you young Miss. My name for yours.”
She considered the offer for only a moment before looking him dead in the eyes. “You go first.”
He couldn’t help the chuckle and nodded. “Agreed. My name is Ripper, but most here call me Captain.”
Elizabeth considered this a moment. She had heard of him, stories mostly from the men who worked for her father. He was well known and well feared for rarely if ever leaving any survivors. And those he left were men who had been lucky to escape before found. “I should have remained hidden.” She noted to herself. Her next thought was simple. “If I have heard of him, surely he will have heard of father.” She was unsure if this would be a good thing or a bad thing, but in no way did she want to find out. She decided to do just as he had with his introduction.
She came around to face him, no longer hidden and gave the man, Ripper, a curtsey as she was taught before stating simply. “My name is Elizabeth, but most who know me address me as Buffy.”
~~`~~
10 years later
William lay in his bed, waiting for the tell tale signs that the house was at rest for the night. His duties were done for the day, but he could still hear some of the other servants moving about on the lower levels so he listened on. Little time passed before he heard the door down the hall from his open and close. Then the shuffling of feet and another door close.
That was the last of the servants going to bed, and his signal to prepare. He quickly got off his bedding platform and gathered up his few belongings before placing them in the bag he intended to use. He had but an hour to wait until his escape would be secure. It was daring, he knew, but he could no longer serve the man he was endowed to. The cruelty aimed towards him was long ago too much, but he was not a stupid man. He’d needed time to prepare and gather what he could to acquire transport from his home. A port owned by one man, and run by another. He knew nothing of the owner, but of the man who ran it, he knew more than he’d ever wished to.
It had taken him nearly 5 years to save the money needed, most of it not made by honest means, but he was soon to leave the place he’d thought would be escape but only turned out to be the worse of his choices.
As the orphaned boy of two paupers, he had no prospects and no home. Found scavenging for anything edible, a man who’d seen him offered him work and residence. He’d gladly accepted but after the first week William found out that he’d only worsened his life. The frequent beatings and the workload were cruel. His body was lean from the work, and his mind was closed from the abuse. Emotion was something he’d given up along with any future he could stand to see ahead of him. All he had now was this one chance. If the master of the residence saw him leave, it would be the noose for him.
After his things were stowed inside the bag, he sat back on the bed and waited again. He studied the moon outside his one lone window hoping it would give him an idea as to how much time passed, then heard the door across from his creak open then shut with very little sound. Then came a creaking in the floor that Drusilla always seemed to hit.
“And she’s off like clockwork.” He said quietly to himself, then began his count.
All who worked in the house knew of the quiet affair being had between the master and the chamber maid. Such things were not uncommon. Inwardly William wondered if that was why many of the aristocratic couples kept separate sleeping quarters. Not all of course, but a great number.
“68, one thousand. 69, one thousand. 70, one thousand.” He mumbled to himself until he reached one hundred. Then he opened his door slowly and stepped out into the hall. There was complete silence on all sides and so he went, easily missing the floorboard the chamber maid seemed to intentionally hit and made his way out of the house and off the yards towards the pier.
~~`~~
Xander came down the plank of The Watcher with practiced ease. Oz on the other hand was still a little wobbly coming down the incline and nearly fell off the side when the more experienced man stepped from it to the well formed pier they were landed at for now.
The closely clipped auburn haired man was quite a bit shorter than the companion leading the way. His eyes were stoic on most occasions, but he had a humor that gave him a personality unmatched by most. You just had to look for it. The companion, Xander, waited for Oz to catch up and they headed into the town looking for the nearest pub. They were searching for two things, relaxation, and some new bodies to help man The Watcher.
Xander himself had only been onboard for two years. Oz was even more green. He’d only earned 3 months of service among the crew but had already made a name for himself. When the captain had first picked the broad brunette to look for anyone willing to serve, he was surprised. The explanation was given to him though. He could see people. This was a needed talent, and one Xander had proved himself with several times since. He was the one that discovered Oz quite by accident, but Xander had recognized the look in his eyes, one that said that he was in need of escape, adventure, freedom.
Now the two young men passed the sleeping shops and residences towards the seedier part of town. There next to the blacksmith’s was the one and only pub that would accept them. Even dressed in clean clothing and newly washed they both looked the part of who they were.
“How many did the captain want?” Oz asked the taller man beside him as they entered the loud boisterous crowd inside.
“No more than three. At least one though.” Xander answered and pointed to some empty spaces at one of the tables off in the corner.
Oz nodded and followed and both settled in ordering a pint and keeping their eyes on the people celebrating for whatever reason they could conjure.
~~`~~
Buffy smoothed out her skirts carefully and made sure her hair was neatly pulled up while standing before the door to a home she knew rather well now. A few loose tendrils hung down to frame her face and her parasol hung closed by her bent elbow. She lifted her gloved hand and lightly rapped on the door while keeping an eye out for trouble in the night around her.
“Who is it?” She heard the familiar voice ask.
“Why should I tell you?” She answered with a smile.
The door swung open and there stood Rupert Giles. He grinned from ear to ear at her. “Buffy. Oh how good to see you. Please,” He said and stepped aside. “Come in.”
She did so, and he gently shut the door behind her before embracing her. “I had thought something happened to you. You should have been here nearly a month ago. And I hear the military has been quite brutal as of late.”
She stepped back when he finally loosened his hold on her. “I am sorry to have worried you. We had to stay a bit longer than expected, and than hit a storm after breaking dock, quite troublesome, but no need for worry. You taught me well.”
“So it seems.” He nodded and offered her a seat at the table. “I could make tea.” He offered.
“Unfortunately I can’t stay too long.” She said with evident sadness. “We’ve heard about a shipment leaving London soon. If we’re going to intrude on their little trip, we have to leave by morning.”
Rupert nodded knowingly. “And the crew, how are they coming?”
“You were right about Xander when we first started letting the others of the crew go. He’s put quite a well rounded bunch together. All with their own, let’s call them… talents?”
“Yes I saw good things would come from that lad the day I spotted him outside that carpenter’s shop. I’m pleased he is working out.” He sighed to himself. “And it was time. My crew was ready for retirement.”
She agreed with another nod. “Two more good men and I think we will be well set. One if he’s able to carry the load from the start.”
He nodded with approval.
She shifted her feet before asking him. “Have you found what I need to prove my place?”
“Oh, yes of course.” He said, suddenly remembering something andturned away from her. He strode to a set of drawers against the wall, and quickly retrieved some papers from the top drawer. “I’m afraid It’s not enough yet, but I do believe I have been able to gather nearly everything I can.” He handed her the pages. “IT seems I will need to inquire about your grandfather.”
Buffy looked up at that statement. “Papa? Whatever for?”
“I’m afraid I can not say, but I believe with the contacts I’ve made I am on the right path.” He watched her as she nodded, her good mood now replaced with the grim determination that had been her constant companion for the last several years.
The chimes in the gold encrusted glass clock ticked off the hour of midnight and Buffy again saddened. “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go.” She handed him the precious bits of parchment.
“So soon my dear?”
“Like I said, we have to be ready before dawn.” Buffy simply stated as she stood.
Giles walked her the few steps to the door before turning. “Do promise you will continue these visits.”
“Of course.” She studied the solemn look in his eyes. They never lied to her. “You still think I‘m mad about it all, don’t you?”
He knew she was still upset. There was a short list of grievances he’d made in his mind. Wrongs he’d made. Most involved the young woman in front of him. He decided which ones to refer to, taking off the spectacles he was now doomed to wear for the rest of his life and sighed. “I’m not as old as many, but I have had enough years to have tallied up many regrets. I should have taken you home. At the very least to a family member.”
“You are my family. The Watcher was my home. I don’t regret it. If you’d taken me home, he would have just shipped me off again. If you’d taken me to my aunt’s, I wouldn’t even want to guess what kind of life I’d have. Hank didn’t even care for his sister. He thought she was poor and uneducated. From what I remember, she was difficult sometimes, held standards of ladies to be precise. I would have never seen anything, gone anywhere, and would now most likely have a husband and several children rather I wanted them or not.” She stopped and gave him a familiar stare. “I don‘t want that yet, maybe I never will. I live on a ship full of men and they are family. I don‘t have to marry some crabby snobbish bore so I can survive. I survive just fine.”
Giles was quite proud of the strong woman before him. He was also concerned that she was ignoring an important part of her life. “And of your father?”
She shrugged. “My father thinks I’m dead. He didn‘t want me around, and only kept from sending me off earlier because my mother couldn’t stand the idea. When she died, anything that was ever good about my father died with her, and there wasn’t much to start with.”
“Still-“ Giles started.
“No more about this, ok? You‘ve always trusted me, why won’t you believe me when I say I am better for it? Better for having become your child?”
She tried to make him understand and a smile came to her face when she remembered a speech he had given her, and to all the men on board. “The labor of love these days. In business there is always bloodshed. Some hide from it in their large houses and grand estates. I have seen it first hand, and can ward it off. If a life can be spared, it is. If it cannot, well, this is how it works, rather a pirate or military, even the simple citizens. We do what we must to survive.” She smiled before turning away from him and opening the door herself.
She still grinned when she added something just for the old pirate now living the simple life. “And if we are lucky we retire in peace, with someone out there looking forward to the next visit.”
She stepped outside and gave the old man a quick wink. “Goodbye Ripper.” And she headed down the street lit by torches along the walls of several of the brick homes.
“Till next time, Slayer.” He said to himself before closing the door.
squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!