THERE WASN'T A PART OF Eleanor that could take her eyes off the one legged creature. The way he walked was odd and stiff, throwing his weight behind each step. She sat on her knees and shook. Water sloshed across the deck, drenching her further each passing time. Her old governess was at her side, face covered with wrinkled palms that clutched a wooden cross on a beaded chain and mumbled laments.

All of the crew had been shoved in a line and told to kneel. One by one, the tall one legged creature delivered their sentence. The lower portion of his face was covered in dark scruff and hair tied back while a tricorne hat casted a shadow over his eyes. He now stopped at Lieutenant Williams knelt figure.

Lieutenant Williams face was battered from a pirate's fist, but he sat up tall in this one legged creatures presence and spoke like a man—not of a boy. "The ship is yours, sir. Just as you asked."

Eleanor peered through slits of her tangled dark lengths. The creature didn't seem satisfied, though it was hard to tell—his face had not yet changed from the stolid expression since he boarded.

"Captain to you, boy." The creature stomped his peg-like-leg onto the deck. It's sound echoed over the waves and Eleanor could see the fake piece wasn't wood, it was metal that the salt water had ate at over the years causing a surface coated in rust.

A few pirates who stood at random held variations of weapons in their palms. They snickered and grinned wide with black and missing teeth. She saw their gazes settled on her and her governess. Hands clutching her torso she tried to cover herself. The thin white soaked nightdress had little to no modesty now.

"S-sorry, Captain."

Lieutenant Williams voice faltered when the Captain crouched low and tossed his white curled wig aside and clutched a rough hand to the side of his young face. "Do you know what you did wrong, Lieutenant Williams?"

Eleanor heard the mockery in the Captain's tone at his position and so could Lieutenant Williams. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, tufts of short blonde hair wavered while searching his mind for a suitable answer. But none came. The Captain's next movement was so quick and so savage, Eleanor truly thought he was a creature—

The Captain slammed Lieutenant Williams head down onto the deck and stood. Lieutenant Williams was too slow to escape the wrath of the metal edge of the peg-leg that descended onto his temple. The Captain bared his teeth in a feral appeal and he stomped and stomped and stomped. Her governess had fainted, slumping against her and Eleanor heard a scream and didn't realize until after the horror had finished that it was her.

Salted water mixed with the mess of pieces that had once been within Lieutenant Williams head. She wanted to vomit. She could feel the bile rise in her throat and it froze there when the Captain's narrowed face snapped in her direction. His shadowed eyes were on her as he drew his sword from its sheath. He raised it high in the air, his men looked in his direction. They were like hunting hounds waiting eagerly for the command. The command to kill.

"Slit their throats, the whole lot of them and toss them to Davy Jones. Except for the women."

The men struggled to their feet, but met their fate before their backs straightened. The deck became a graveyard, filled with gurgling men who laid choking on their own blood. Eleanor climbed to her feet as two men, one tall and skinny, the other short and fat, lounged for her. Her governess still laid unconscious and fell victim to being trampled underneath boots and bodies—but not Eleanor.

She scurried to the railing and had nowhere left to go. Her eyes darted around her before fixing on a nearby spear. Without a second thought, she swept it up from the deck, shouting, "Stay back!"

Eleanor swung the weapon back and forth in desperation. Hair thick and black like the depths below flew in every direction, while the temptation to jump was evermore real. The two men lurched this way and that to avoid the sharp head. With a hefty hand she threw it at them and she climbed on top of the railing.

The wind tore at her skirt and her arms jerked with her torsos movements. Her hand gripped at the loose rigging and she looked down at the bodies strewn across the deck. A once beautiful ship was now bleached red and in the hands of pirates.

"Come down off of there poppet." The fat pirate said, his hand reached out toward her. He was missing two fingers—the last two on his right hand. "Come here."

She looked down the waters that lapped against the ship's side. It was certainly a far drop, she'd mostly likely meet her death.... She looked back to the two pirates and over their heads, their Captain was staring at her—his tricorne off, his face revealed. His skin was well worn by the sun on his days out at sea and his eyes savage as his actions.

"I too shall meet Jones," she yelled over the dying and victorious sounds of men. She released the rigging and fell backwards. 

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