Pirate Chronicles

“I’m romantic enough, thank you very much.”

Madeleine watched as Charles moved to the side. He had to be about her brother’s age, maybe older. However, unlike her brother, Second Lieutenant Miller was gentle and soft spoken. In his dashing uniform, he looked like a hero from a novel and Madeleine felt rather uneasy in her stomach. She again wanted to fix her hair, a silly thought considering. Instead, she busied herself with securing the blanket around her torn dress as she looked at the rest of him from the corner of her eye – more than Josephine would ever have allowed her to do. He was tall and thin but very handsome with nice eyes.
“Thanks, Charles,” Nicholas said gratefully and then took on a very serious expression. “Tavin, I think we better see if any of those pirates decided to linger around.”
“Good idea, Nicholas.” Tavin nodded and unsheathed her sword. Beside him, Tom began powdering twin pistols. “I doubt they were fool enough to stay but might as well do a sweep of the area.”

The other men agreed and as Madeleine began to follow them in their quest, Nicholas barred her way. It was times like this that Madeleine realized just how imposing her brother was.
“You should stay here.”

Nicholas knew he was responsible for his little sister while their father was, well…what? Dead? No, he wouldn’t think that way.
“What?” Madeleine shrieked in alarm. “What if they come back after you leave?”           The thought of being left behind was so amazingly appalling that she didn’t think he would follow through with it.

“They probably won’t,” Charles spoke softly.

She had the impression that was an order.
“Charles is right, Madeleine,” Nicholas reaffirmed. “Stay here until we come back for you, in fact…”

Behind Madeleine, in the small pantry she wedged herself in, were large wooden barrels used for storing grain on ships. If pirates really were looting the mansion, they wouldn’t waste their time on grain barrels, not when the house was full of gold and silver.
“Get inside one of these.” He motioned towards one of the empty barrels.
“You must be mad,” Madeleine exclaimed in alarm. “I cannot fit in there.”

That wasn’t how she imagined everything happening. However, she was overruled and with the assistance of three overbearing young men, they pushed, poked and prodded Madeleine inside. Before the group hammered on the wooden lid, Charles handed her the cast iron frying pan.
“Here, for good luck.” They shared a quick smile before Madeleine was thrown into complete darkness.

When Nicholas hammered on the lid, Madeleine finally empathized with salted fish, or even a corpse. That definitely wasn’t a pleasant thought although she doubted they put dead bodies in barrels.
A cold, tingling sensation crawled over Madeleine’s arms. It was as though she was being nailed into her own coffin and alive to hear the wood creak into place. Despite the heat, she was deathly numb. Perhaps it was the wood or maybe just the pantry, but when the sound of their footsteps softened beyond her ability to hear, everything felt very wrong.

Splinters inside the barrels brushed against her skin like tiny bugs moving slowly across her flesh. No, do not think of bugs, but she realized in horror they didn’t even check the barrel before she got in. Madeleine recalled a memory of her mother handing her a basket of peas.
“I don’t want to shell peas, Mama.”
It was a lovely spring afternoon, only slightly nippy whenever the sea breeze blew in, but that didn’t matter. Summer was on its way. The winter had been difficult. Frost nearly wiped out all the vegetables and fruit, but the peas survived, wretched things..

Mumbling about unfair treatment, since Nicholas had not been asked to shell anything, Madeleine took the horrid basket and dug her fingers into the bright green pods. Whenever her mother’s back was turned, she would savor the taste of the sweet pea inside. Somehow, her mother caught on and wouldn’t take her eyes off Madeleine and so the desire to not be caught made the reward of the sweet pea increase in value.

Like a patient thief, she waited, acting as if nothing in the world was more important than completing her task. When a noise from within the house made her mother turn her head or a servant scurried by with a message for the mistress, Madeleine popped the pea and gasped as something slimy moved on her tongue. Gagging, she spit into her hand and found a plump white worm twisting from side to side. To imagine she almost ate that…that…thing.
“I told you not to eat them.” Her mother laughed maliciously, looking at her daughter. “Boiling kills those little bugs.”

Without hesitation, Annabelle flicked the little monster off her daughter’s hand. Now, Madeleine not only loathed bugs, but also peas.
Madeleine could laugh about it, although she wondered if any such bugs lurked underneath her. Shifting her weight, she stomped the bottom of the barrel, just in case. When she again heard footsteps, she ceased her extermination and pressed her ear to the wood.

Muffled voices – if only she could hear what it was they were saying. Perhaps it was Nicholas talking to her mother or— Madeleine gasped, bracing herself inside the barrel as she was lifted into the air.