Darkest Waters
Prologue
By Josie Eleuthera
Disclaimer: PotC doesn't belong to me, never has, never will. I just like playing with the boys, ya know? Like little girls and their Barbies. But these Barbies are kinda male-ish and so much more fun!!
Warnings: Nothing much but the onset of confusion and the preview of angst.
Notes: This was written for the Slasher of the Caribbean ML. Be happy! This is the first ML that I've been a part of that I didn't lurk. Also, the only cross posting for this is on my own ML, so . . . whatever.
Scenario: Trust me, this is scenario based, and I'll post which ones later, but for now, it would ruin the story!!
Summary: ((I hate calling these summaries. They're more like teasers)) A young man is forced to cope with a new life when he awakes on a ship at sea with no memory of his past.
Dark Days ahead
The young man groaned as his head attempted to match beat with a bass drum as he came to. He could taste salt and blood in his mouth, an interesting combination, and it made whatever he had last eaten want to rise again. The hard wood beneath whatever he laid on was wet, and smelled of seaweed. He came to the realization that he was on a ship at sea somewhere. It also explained why the world around him seemed to be tilting lazily.
'A ship.' he thought. 'But why?'
He couldn't seem to make his brain focus on how he had come to be there, or on anything prior to his waking up. It was just one big black blur, intersperse with random, unworded shouts, and faces he thought he might have know. But there were no names, no answers in his mind, and he decided to open his eyes.
He was lying on the wooden planking of the hold of a ship. Around him were a large amount of people, in various degrees of panic and shock. All were fettered in irons, some were crying, some were comforting. Most were women. The man tried to sit up, but found that his headache increased as he did so, and collapsed back onto the floor. Instantly, there was a woman by his side, wearing the soaked tatters of a simple dress and bonnet. She laid a cool wet rag across his forehead, easing the raging beat in his head.
"There, there," she murmured. "Easy does it. You've been out a while. We's was wonderin' if you'd eva wake up."
"Where-" was all he managed to gasp out.
"We're on the slave ship Marauder. Though were ya be from before that, well, I don't rightly know. You were brought on board with those two fellas, neither of which has woken up yet."
The man looked over to where she pointed. There were two men there, both older then he, and both sporting a large amount of injuries. One lay there unconscious, the other's lips were blue, his eyes slightly open, but glazed.
"The one, we don't think he'll be wakin' up again. My name's Mary. I was on my way to work as a servant at Port Townsende when the Marauder attacked. I don't know where the rest of the people on my ship be. What about you? Where be ye from?" The man attempted to sit up once more, this time succeeding. He handed Mary back her rag. Looking down at his hands, he saw that he was bound as the others were. The shock that others seemed to be feeling was beginning to set in, and he just stared at her for a bit before answering. "Both my name and where I was from before are unknown to me. I was hoping that one of them could tell me." he pointed at the unconscious man. "But he's not awake. Which leaves me with precious few options."
"Well, if ya don't be knowin yer name, then we'll just have to give ya one fer now. How about John? Tis a common enough name in England. As for a last name, well, ya got rough hands and a golden look to ya, which makes me think ye were a sailor before. So how about John Saylor, with a 'y'?"
The newly christened John Saylor nodded. "It'll do till this wears off and I get my memory back. I must have been hit over the head."
Mary and John sat in silence for about 2 hours, occasionally going and comforting a crying woman or child. It wasn't that he were being antisocial, but that John just didn't know what to say. How do you strike up a conversation with someone when you wake up alone and to the loss of everything, even their own identity on a slave ship? Especially when they help rename you? So he sat it out, and waited for the one guy Mary said he was brought in with to wake up. He'd have some answers for John.
A cry from above brought silence to the hold. "Land ho!! Port Jameson ahead!!" The ship flew into a flurry of action. Some rough looking men came below and began to separate the prisoners, pulling John from Mary and the unconscious man. John struggled, biting out some colorful curses, but was subdued when one of the slavers hit him on the back of the head once more. The last thing he saw before his vision returne]d to black was the image of Mary, and the resignation in her eyes.