*continued from Part 1*

Circus Pirates - Part 2

I awoke hours later in the bunk. I remembered where I was and groggily swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I had been dressed in a new tunic and blanket. I found my bloomers on top of a crate. I slipped them on but they were still damp, and were cold against my bruised legs and hip where James had kicked me. My long honey blond hair had dried into its natural waves. I ran my fingers through it quickly to get the flyaways out of my face. I saw a skirt laid out over a chair for me. It was an odd-looking skirt with skinny horizontal stripes of pink and white, and calico patches sprinkled liberally about.

It was bright and sunny outside, and a circle of light shone on the floor from the single porthole in the plain bunkroom. I could hear the general clamor of the ship above me, and I smelled something glorious from the other side of the door.

After slipping on the striped skirt, I opened the cabin door to reveal the ship’s galley in front of me. A large man sat in the middle of the room with all sorts of cooking equipment, cutlery, and food surrounding him. As I walked slowly closer, I realized the man took up the entire space normally provided for about three cooks. I could not see his feet over any part of the U-shaped counter where we all dined. I found out later that day that the man, who was called Cookie, lived and slept there all day and night, never moving from the galley.

“Hello!” his deep voice greeted me as he saw me walk out of the bunkroom with a look of shock on my face. “Angie! She’s awake!” he made an effort to throw his voice over his shoulder and up the small staircase to the deck. His booming voice traveled well.

As I stood, unmoving, a large plump woman came down the stairs. “Oh!” she cried and she walked up and gave me a maternal hug. “You look so frail, my dear! Cookie, give her a meal! Come, come!” she waved her arms as him frantically.

She quickly ushered me over to one of the stools perched next to the counters. She and I sat. Cookie placed a plate in front of me. There was a potato and some grey mush. It didn’t look quite appetizing, but it smelled all right. The woman let me get a few spoonfuls of the stuff before she started talking. At least it tasted good.

“My name is Angel, but you can call me Angie. Everyone calls me Angie,” she smiled.

I looked up at her. She looked more like a man to me. She had reddish shoulder-length scraggily hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in weeks. Her face was pockmarked, probably from an early childhood disease. She was large and muscular, and pretty broad-shouldered. I swore I could see hints of facial hair along her jaw line and upper lip. Nothing at all like an angel.

“And what’s your name dearie?” she asked in a high-pitched yet gruff voice.

I quickly turned my grimace into a smile. “I’m Isabella. You can call me Iza I guess.”

“Wonderful!” she said.

I didn’t know why this was so great.

“Now dearie, can you tell us why you were out in the middle of the Irish Sea, on your own, in a rowboat?” Angie asked.

I looked at her hesitantly.

“There’s no pressure, hun. If you’re uncomfortable saying so, we understand,” she said.

I looked at Cookie. He nodded in agreement with Angie.

Angie watched me eat for a little while.

I then asked, “So, you’re a pirate?”

Angie and Cookie looked at each other and laughed with loud, boisterous hacks and coughs. I turned red and stared at my nearly empty plate sheepishly. I had apparently been wrong.

“No, no, darling,” Angie finally said. “We ain’t pirates,” she said still grinning.

“Do I look like the swashbuckling type to you?” Cookie chuckled.

I finally smiled a little. “No,” Angie said again. Then, “Well... I guess in a way we are,” Angie looked to Cookie. His wide arms flapped in a shrugging gesture. “We took over this ship… and it is stolen,” Angie continued. “But we ain’t violent.”

“We?” I didn’t know to whom she was referring.

Angie grinned.

Just then, two voices called out simultaneously. “Angie! Our Capitan needs you on deck!” Boots tromped down the stairs. Over Angie’s shoulder, I saw a man. No, two! Behind Cookie stood two midgets stacked on top of each other, one sitting on the other’s shoulders. Alone they might make it to three feet tall, but together they were nearly six.

“This is Bran and Bard, our Russian midget juggling team as well as our twin human cannonballs!” Angie said cheerfully. “Bran, Bard, this is Iza.”

“Greetings!” they both said. Then the top man said, “I am Bard,” and the bottom man said, “I am Bran.”

“And don’t memorize their names by who is on top or bottom,” Angie said. “They switch places.” And as if on cue, Bard, on top, jumped off Bran’s shoulders in a somersault, and Bard leapt onto his shoulders.

“Ta-daaaaa!” they sang it as a chord. I couldn’t help but giggle a little.

“Don’t get fooled by Bard’s name either,” Cookie said. He was turned as much as he could to see them. “Bran is the real singer of the two.” I nodded.

“ANGIE!” a loud, commanding voice called from above deck atop the stairs.

Angie stood quickly. “Come child,” she said. She took my arm and started up the stairs. I squeezed between Cookie and the Twins and up the narrow staircase after her. Bard and Bran followed after me.

EDIT: Using suggestions. 3/28/08

*Part 3 is here!*