Fred Came Back

Chapter Four

Bar rar rar?....Bar tar rar.

These were the derisive thoughts that plagued Darcy's fragile mind as she paced back and forth inside the ship cabin. Nightfall had settled outside the port window, and a cool breeze flew in from the open seas.

"Stupid Frederick," She grumbled with dejection coating her voice, "ever the arrogant reprobate without a shred of humility."

Resentment boiled to the surface of her mind at the very thought of him. The blasted man couldn't even be grateful that she had brazenly broke him out of prison! His freedom was all due thanks to her!

Well, bugger it all. It didn't really matter so long as she kept him bound to her will until she could formulate her own getaway plan. All she truly needed him for was his facade. He happened to play it exceptionally well. A little too well.

Loud shouts and roaring laughter invaded the solitude of her cabin, prompting a scowl to etch across her face.

"What the fuckity fucking fuck-" She turned her head flippantly, casting irritated eyes onto the cabin door where another thunderous throng of shouts occurred. What the devil was going on out there? Hoisting up her cornflower blue dress skirts, she made her way to the door, swinging it open wide with an accidental bang!

Fortunately, not a single man below deck took notice of her dramatic entrance, for every bodied male had their back turned, huddled in a wide circle while they shouted out bets, curses and encouragements. Darcy frowned, inching only a foot closer out of sheer curiosity to see why all the commotion was happening.

Craning her neck, she stood on her tiptoes through her slippers, attempting to peer through the cluster of bodies.

"Oh, it's just Fred." She mumbled, feeling deflated as she gazed at the game he was deeply vested in with another portly man. What kind of card game were they playing anyway? It seemed incredibly advanced.

The other man suddenly shoved himself off the barrel he was sitting on as he shouted down at Frederick, "Aye, give me a bloody five, or else I'll gut yer scrawny guts where ye sit, blondie!"

The beautiful man never even bothered to lift his eyes to the portly oaf, instead remaining uncommonly relaxed in his lounging stance with one boot rested on his knee, his eyes scanning his cards avidly.

"Go fish," he drawled, lifting one card to shuffle it back into the hand with the others. "Now then, Rupert," his blue eyes flicked up in a heartbeat towards the other man still standing as his chin subtly lifted in challenge, "hand over your queen."

The man- Darcy now assumed was Rupert- went ghostly pale before he snapped his head down to stare at his card, then back up at Frederick, "But we ain't got none left in the ocean! You draw me last fish and you win again! Avast me bloomin' sails!" He cried out in outrage.

Frederick smiled darkly, leaning forward as he added, "and your last five farthings."

Rupert's face puckered purple in anger as he scowled down at his card, unwilling to hand it over. Every man surrounding them had fallen silent in anticipation. Even Darcy realized she was holding her breath through the thick tension of the lower deck.

A low fart broke the silence as a quiet voice piped up, "Ethcuthe me."

"I ain't giving you me last coin, ya stinkin' gent! I'll slice yer throat open before ye get your soft clean hands on me gold!" Rupert bellowed, nearly knocking over the barrel between them.

Having seen enough, Darcy rolled her eyes and stomped away, muttering underneath her breath, "Frederick is a fool. Playing dumb card games." Vanishing from the room, she sequestered back inside the comfort of her cabin.