Jillian Chantal

This week’s word prompt for Tuesday Tales is stone. I am still working on my pirate story set in the 1700s. I am almost done with it but am still sharing as I go along. This week, the heroine is in a jail cell in Port Royal, Jamaica after shooting a pirate who tried to shoot her first.

Be sure to check out the other tales here. 

“Good evening, Miss Vane. I’m Captain Cornwall.” A huge man entered the cell followed by two other men. “These are the witnesses and stenographers who will be taking down what happens here.”

Knowing I must look a mess due to my circumstances and being caught in the deluge earlier, I did my best to smooth my hair, remembering I had dirt on my hands from the wall explorations earlier. It was a good thing it was dark in here.

My neck and back ached. The stone floor was hard and I wished I had a soft mattress with a thick coverlet. I sobbed as it crossed my mind that I may never have those things again.

To my shock, Captain Cornwell handed me a square of linen. “I have some questions to ask and want you to know I’ve already spoken to the man you shot.”

“And you’ll be comparing our stories?” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as weak and shaky as it seemed to me.

“That’s partly right. I’ll also be seeing where they differ. As I’m sure you know, people will try to make their side of things sound better than what the accuser may say.” He indicated a large boulder-like structure near the far wall. “Let’s move over there since the top is flat and we can sit more comfortably.”

He held his hand out to assist me to my feet. While I allowed him to help me up, I wasn’t going to give him my trust as quickly as I gave him my hand. I might be naïve in some ways but in others, I wasn’t.

Once we were seated, the two clerks leaned against the walls and looked like they were settled in and ready to take their notes. I wished I would’ve been given the chance to have someone on my side to be there making sure these two were taking down things as they were truly being said.

“Why don’t we start with you telling me what happened and then I can ask my questions,” the captain said.

“May I start with something that happened before today?”

He nodded. “Wherever you want to begin.”

“A few days ago, when I came to Port Royal, I was at the cemetery and saw that man who came into my room tonight. He stood there and stared at me. Later that same night, I noticed him staring up at me as I looked out the window from my room in the inn. He also confronted me and my friend about my claim to be Captain Charles Vane’s daughter. He didn’t like that at all.”

“And when was the next time you saw him?”

“When he came barging into the room I rented at Rosie’s.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I’d just returned from Nathaniel’s—sorry I don’t know his last name—plantation. Mr. Mountbank took me there to speak to Nathaniel about Captain Vane.” I rubbed my cheek. “When I returned to my room, I was tired and without cleaning myself up, I took off my stockings and footwear. Once I loosened my stays, I reclined on the bed and closed my eyes.

When I heard the door open, I initially thought it was my traveling companion, Benedict but as soon as I inhaled, I realized it wasn’t.”

“Inhaled?” he asked with what I thought was a laugh at the end.

Not allowing myself to hope he believed me, I said, “Yes. The man reeked. Benedict would never allow himself to be in such a state.” I shook my head as the memory of what came next.