In The Arms Of My Pirate

Tears of the Sea

Lafitte drew his sword and leveled it at Charles' neck. Slowly, Charles nodded.

He wrapped his other arm behind Octavia's knees and lifted her. He gritted his teeth as his stitches reopened, but his anguish, combined with the rum, drove out all thoughts of pain.

Glaring defiantly at the pirates who snickered or shouted crude comments, he carried Octavia down to the brig.

Bloody Benny locked the door behind them. "You're a fool, Atwell," Benny growled.

"I will relish repaying every blow you gave her," Charles said, not looking up as he laid Octavia, stomach down, on the mat of straw. "You will suffer, drop for drop."

"You'll come to see it my way soon, I'm sure," Bloody Benny said. His voice sounded odd, not so whiny as it usually did, and his accent wasn't as thick.

But Charles ignored the oddity.

Slowly, he peeled the bloody shirt away from her skin to examine her wounds.

***

Octavia drifted in and out of consciousness, the world spinning around her.

At first, she didn't feel the blood trickling over the skin, not until it started to cool over her ribs.

Something warm splashed against her shoulder, and she blinked, forcing herself to wake.

Her cheek lay pressed against stale, musty straw, which was riddled with rat droppings. Across the small space, the heavy wooden bars of the brig stared back at her.

A choking sob made her twist her head as best as she could.

Charles knelt over her, using his own shirt to wash her wounds with cool water.

Tears trickled down his cheeks, dripping off his chin and splattering on her back.

"Charles?" she mumbled. Her hand twitched, but she lacked the strength to reach for him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, closing his eyes against the sight of her bloody back.

Octavia wanted to comfort him,
but instead, she succumbed to the darkness, and her eyes drifted closed.

***

For hours, Charles cleaned Octavia's wounds with rum and applied an ointment that Dr. Green brought him. The ship ship rocked gently beneath him as they set sail, but he ignored it. Nothing else mattered anymore. Not his pride. Not his desire to drown his sorrows.

He applied the last glob of ointment to a gash over her spine and sat back on his heels. He stared at the wounds. Would it do any good?

"Here," Dr. Green said, holding rolls of bandages through the bars, "wrap her with these."

Charles eyed them wearily. They must have been the only strips of bandages on either of the two ships that weren't already blood-stained from previous use.

Silently, Charles took them. He carefully lifted Octavia into a sitting position and leaned her against his shoulder, then wrapped the gauze around her torso.

Thankfully, the front of her shirt had not been ripped, so she maintained at least some of her modesty. Charles wondered if it would be a comfort to her. Was there even any comfort available after what she had just lived through?

"Lafitte has ordered you to rejoin him above deck," Dr. Green said, leaning his back to the wooden bars to give Octavia what meager privacy he could.

"I'm not leaving her." Charles laid her on her stomach again. He brushed sweat-soaked strands of hair from her pale face.