The Princess and the Pirate, Ch 14: The Hungering

Never in her life had Fioretta hungered like she was hungering now. She hungered for food, for now she lived on the scraps of the pirates and had to share with Lauren and Mirabelle. She hungered for her parents, whom she missed so desperately it gnawed at her worse than her hunger. She hungered for her freedom, of which she had absolutely none in the ten foot by ten foot cage she shared. She hungered to solve the mysteries that surrounded her family with the discovery of her long, lost brother, whom she had not seen for a month-since he locked the iron door with a resigned sigh and a resounding clank.

She hungered for comforts and something more to do than to walk circles in the cage for exercise with the others or to read the little book she had managed to keep with her in the miserly light that clawed its way in through the cracks in the outside wall. She hungered for cleanliness-they received barely enough water rations to quench their thirst. She starved for news of what was happening on the island-for none of the prisoners received even the table leavings on that score as the pirate who brought them their meager rations no longer had a tongue. If Fioretta had not been so strong in the virtues of patience and positive outlook, she-and the others-would have given in to depression long ago.

Hope of ever escaping had dwindled down to a match-sized flicker when, in their first week of incarceration, a few silent pirates had been assigned to clean out the seemingly empty cells and brought out only the bones of several prisoners who had expired. Fioretta had chosen not to focus on those facts. She kept redirecting her mind-and everyone else's-on brainstorming ways to contact Captain Matthew. She had to let him know about his lineage and see exactly where he stood. Would he be willing to listen to the truth?

It was rather difficult to talk to the men in their party. Though they resided in the adjacent cell, thick, stone walls separated them, and the only way out was through the iron door of each cage. Still they had managed to make sure everyone was, at least, safely inside the same prison rather than some being singled out for tortures unknown.

The pirate who had been so gleeful on learning of Fioretta's identity had been as strangely absent as Captain Matthew. Fioretta pondered it all during the long waking hours that held no light.
One day, all the prisoners stood very still, listening to the wild shouting and running noises that permeated all the way to their cells. For three days, the bedraggled captives stood straining their ears throughout the days trying to glean some idea of what was going on with the pirates. All they heard were scrapings, crashes, muffled-beyond-recognition clamor, and, at night, an eerie, doomed silence that hung all about them like so much Spanish moss on trees.

On the fourth day, nothing but stillness reached their ears until midday when an entourage of pirates came to see them along with Captain Matthew. He ordered all the cell doors to be opened. He made eye contact with nary a single soul. Then the captives were all clamped in irons, chained together, and made to follow him like a monstrous, many-eyed snake. All the pirates maintained their silence and gave any talkative prisoners a sharp rap on the head. Fioretta breathed in the crisp, warm air that blew across her face, refreshing her like a tonic. She allowed her face to feel the radiant beams of the sun as the chains dragged her along.

They walked out of the compound, through the surrounding jungle, around the winding streets that made up the little pirate town, and to the wharf where Captain Matthew's ship stood waiting. Fioretta savored the feel of every step she took and appreciated the variation as she went from concrete to grass to dirt to sand to cobblestone to wood.

Captain Matthew and the other crew members stood watching all the prisoners come aboard the ship. His stone-like face told Fioretta nothing-he stared through her and the other captives as if they were only ghostly images of themselves rather than people. That flicker of hope sputtered and went almost completely out as they were lead down into the belly of the ship where they were kept chained and were locked away, once again, from the light of day. Fioretta felt sick as the ship drew away from its moorings and out onto the open sea.