Observing her mistress, Violette could see the pain in her eyes. She had known Scarlett to be one very tough woman and this was certainly the first time she was seeing her looking so defenseless in the face of adversity. Scarlett always had a way out of situations as such but it was obvious that this one was above her limits and subjugation. Although, the younger woman had tried to talk her off sending the baby to die in the streets but her mind was made up. She had said that the baby would only bring them bad luck, hence the cruel fate that awaits her. Violette had gazed severally upon the baby, she was rather too cute and innocent to bring them such woes, but then, what did she know? It was best she remained silent over these decisions. An idea suddenly sprang up her head, a way to give the baby a fighting chance.
"How about we give her a name?" she asked.
Scarlett had never thought about this, what was the point of giving name to a baby that most definitely would not make it through the night. She looked at Violette and could not see any foul play hints about her person. She decided to oblige her request and asked the younger woman to fetch her ink and paper. As soon as it was brought, Scarlett looked at her baby and a name flashed across her mind. She decided to give it to the baby. She scribbled upon the paper the name…
'JEAN SPARROW.'
Seeing the name, Violette's eyes lit up but she was not going to say anything. Scarlett looked at her and noted her bewilderment and explained to her that perhaps naming her after the greatest pirate would give the baby just as much fighting chance there would be for survival. Violette nodded slowly as she hoped that sincerely, that was the case and not something much deeper.
They went into the night after that, bearing the basket. Farther into the depths of Tortuga they went until they were certain that they were far away from their harlem. The basket was left around the street corner and Scarlett put the piece of paper bearing her name into the basket, hopefully, some good person would happen upon her and take her into their care. As soon as their mission was done, both women turned away from the baby and walked briskly away from the area.
***** ***** *****
Not again with the cats and their mewing. This would make it the umpteenth time she had to chase the crazy disturbing scavengers from her spot because their inconsistent mewling would always force her from her state of drunken sleepiness.
Thus, the previous week, Marina had taken it upon herself to dispatch them, to think that they would be back so soon with voices much stronger than before.
But wait, this did not sound anymore like them, it was more like, a baby?
Marina quickly opened her eyes and looked to where it was that the insistent crying was coming from. A little crowd of children stood there around a basket from whence the crying was coming from, she was at loss on whether or not to look upon it or turn away. The baby's crying was growing weaker and weaker; Marina remembered something rather too painful and bitter. Was it not five years ago that she was sent away from where she was working at the harlem for being with child. She had struggled to survive in the cruel streets of the port of Tortuga and finally delivered her baby, a girl. Four days later after its birth, the child had taken ill and before she could get to the doctor's, her child was dead already. Of course, after that, she dared not return to the harlem as her nemesis, Scarlett had suddenly taken over.
She had to live off scrapes from the area and the few pennies she was making from dishwashing every evening at the inn.
Her motherly instinct which might have been thought to be all but forlorn came to play when a child screamed that the baby was shutting its eyes weakly. Marina rushed over to it, breaking through the crowd of children as she looked into the basket. It was a baby quite alright and opening the cloth that was used to wrap the child, she could tell that it was a new born baby and female too. What kind of cruel woman was this who would abandon her little one to the inclement weather and dangers of preying animals within hours of her birth. There was a piece of paper by the child that was wet with sweat or whatever, Marina quickly took a look, it read words which she took in immediately to be the baby's name.
Marina quickly gathered the child into her arms, "Hello there, Jean," She said to her. "You shall not die, but live."
Next, Marina would run all the way to the outskirts of the city where the wee old nursemaid lived. She knocked the door frantically over and over again.
"By the sea monster, if that be you, Jonathan, I shall slay you!" The old lady bellowed angrily as she started unlocking the door.
"Clementine, I need your help." Marina said as soon as she opened the door with a stern look on her face.
"Marina, it's you. I thought it was that drunk fella with the herpes," She stopped as she noticed the little bundle Marina held close to her bosom. "What have you there now?"
"A foundling, she's dying!" Marina said.
"Inside, quickly." Clementine said and Marina entered.
The old lady took a look at the little one and could tell she was both worn out from crying as she was cold and hungry. There were some warm clothes she had in her archives from the past and water heating in the fireplace. Clementine had no milk and would proceed to bath the young one and put the warmer clothes on her.
"You need to feed her." Clementine said to her as they stared down at the yawning baby.
"I have no milk." Marina said.
"Find a substitute. And be quick about it." Clementine urged.
Marina thought about it and decided to make a plea. "How about you look after her and I would go find milk?"
Clementine chuckled.
"No. You cannot leave her with me. I would not risk having a baby abandoned under my care."
No matter her plea, the old lady maintained she had done her optimal best as a human, the rest was up to Marina. Eventually, Marina left with the child. She needed to find milk for the suckling and then think of a way to get her into capable hands. She did manage to feed the infant and soon enough, she was cooing in her arms. Marina needed to find her a home as she was not sure she was ready to mother her or cater for her needs. She did not even have a roof of any sorts over her head, not to mention a place of abode.
Aye, she did try her best to find a home for the little Jean but by and by, it was futile. This became the sole reason she had to take in the child. It was not easy in the beginning for each and every other day she would keep being anxious on whether or not the little one would see the break of light. Days became weeks and weeks rolled into months, and months, you sure know it became years.
Jean was now a little girl so full of life at six. Marina in order to protect her clothed her in boy's adornment so as to keep her safe from the scavenging pirates and pedophiles of the streets. The little girl did her best to be obedient to her mother and would beat up anyone who would stand up to her among her peers, especially the boys. Luckily also, the name Jean was French and was unisex, so no one really suspected that she was a girl. They all saw her as a pretty boy that would someday grow into a heartbreaker and ruin the world of females. Although, the majority knew that she was not the biological child to Marina, but then, in Tortuga, no one really cared about such trivialities as bastards. If that be the case, then two third the entire population would wind up as bastards. No one really cared about it.
Unfortunately, Jean was on her way to another phase of her life that would have a great role to play in that which she would eventually become. Marina had made home for them in the wrecked ruins of a big boat, a home she had taken her time to rearrange for a little bit of comfort. But then, winter this year was not showing any more mercy to the inhabitants of the wreck as Marina had taken ill. Seriously ill I must say to the extent of coughing up blood. She had been doing her best to keep it hidden from the little one, but then, she could no longer go out and hoped that the little they had in store would be enough till she gets better.
Little Jean had no idea that her guardian was gradually fading away, or as she thought, her mother. She knew she was ill but it was not the first time, so she was sure that the woman would bounce back on her feet. From time to time, she would go out to play, returning only in the evening to their home. Her mother was not getting any better and by a month, she could no longer get up to make food for either of them and worse still, they had run out of supplies. The doctor himself had grown weary of them as Marina no longer had anything to offer, so the drunken doctor no longer cared about them. It fell upon the shoulders of the little one to begin to think of ways in her childish brain to feed.
It was around this time that Jean began to learn the art of pickpocketing from those other children she hung out with and even worse, she learnt to tell lies. They would steal bread, coins and anything of value for the street so-called lords, who in turn would give them whatever it was that crossed their mind to. Before one could say Jack Robinson, the little one had become very skillful. Whenever she was asked by her mother on how she came about the little meals she got, Jean would tell her the same story that she got it from some kind hearted people from where she sat as a beggar. Of course, it pained Marina that her adopted daughter had become a beggar, always looking too dirty and muddy, but there was nothing she could do to help as she herself had become handicapped. She went with the flow and hoped to become better.