Love of the Sea
 

This story is dedicated to Laura and was written for her as I was fortunate to draw her name for the J7Faction Secret Santa gift exchange. At her request the story is being shared here on my site.

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I stood on the quarterdeck over the captain’s cabin looking down at my first mate. He’d just come aboard the main deck with four new sailors. "I take it your mission was a success, Mister Bernard?"

"That is was, Cap’n. Four new deckhands to replace those we lost more’n a month ago."

We’d put into Port Royal only hours before but I was eager to set sail. Being in port this long made me twitchy and it wasn’t just because my crew and I were wanted for acts of piracy. The sea called to me as it had done since I was a child and the Storm Chaser allowed me to answer. My father had left the ship to me, but it was so much more than a keel and a mast and a hold. The Storm Chaser was freedom.

Nothing and no one had ever lured me from the sea. She was my only love. All these things contributed to my first mate recruiting the crewmembers in my stead. Looking on those scallywags now made me question that decision. Two wore dirty, ragged clothing with gaping rents that revealed hairy, unwashed bodies. The third new crewman had an obviously fake eye and was missing most of his yellowed teeth. The last buccaneer was tall, reed thin and looked like he’d blow away in a strong wind. He also wore a large brimmed hat pulled low. Even in the bright Caribbean sun his features were obscured and only a few strands of blonde hair were visible. It was not uncommon for pirates to crave anonymity so I chose to ignore it.

"Have you explained the code to our new sailors, Mister Bernard?"

"Aye. Showed ‘em where it was posted too, Cap’n Read."

Every man shall obey civil Command; the Captain shall have one full share and a half in all Prizes; the Master, Carpenter, Boatswain and Gunner shall have one Share and quarter.

If any man shall offer to run away, or keep any Secret from the Company, he shall be marroon'd with one Bottle of Powder, one Bottle of Water, one small Arm and shot.

If any Many shall steel any Thing in the Company, or game, to the Value of a Piece of Eight, he shall be marroon'd or shot.

If at any Time we should meet another Marrooner (that is Pyrate) that Man that shall sign his Articles without the Consent of our Company, shall suffer such Punishment as the Captain and Company shall think fit.

That Man that shall strike another whilst these Articles are in force, shall receive Mose's Law (that is 40 stripes lacking one) on the bare Back.

That Man that shall snap his Arms, or smoak Tobacco in the Hold, without a cap to his Pipe, or carry a Candle lighted without a Lanthorn, shall suffer the same Punishment as in the former Article.

That Man that shall not keep his Arms clean, fit for an Engagement, or neglect his Business, shall be cut off from his Share, and suffer such other Punishment as the Captain and the Company shall think fit.

If any Man shall lose a Joint in time of an Engagement he shall have 400 pieces of Eight; if a limb 800.

If at any time you meet with a prudent Woman, that Man that offers to meddle with her, without her Consent, shall suffer present Death.

"You there," I shouted, pointing to the man with one eye. "What was your last assignment?"

"Crow’s nest, Cap’n," he bellowed proudly.

My teeth clicked together hard enough to crack walnuts and for long moments it was a struggle not to laugh. I wanted to ask how he managed to be an effective lookout with no depth perception but I didn’t. It wouldn’t be appropriate for Captain Mary Read, terror of the Spanish Main, to show interest in a crewman’s personal life.

"Get ‘em to work, Dewey, and then shove off. I want to be in Portobelo in six days."

I dimly heard his response as I turned to take the steps down to the captain’s cabin. Attacking the Spanish treasure fleet as they traveled back to Cadiz was a favorite pastime. My crew had profited tidily at their expense though most of their treasures had been squandered at various taverns almost as soon as they were received. The life of a pirate was one giant bore of months at sea. That boredom was periodically interspersed with short bursts of excitement as vessels were boarded and pillaged. It was no wonder the crew spent their shares as soon as their feet hit dry land.

I did not fall into the same category. I had been educated in England until it became clear I would suffocate in such confined structure. My father recognized that and freed me of that personal prison. Still I remembered my education and knew I could not remain a pirate captain forever. There would always be someone out there ready to make their reputation by killing me. I was planning for that contingency.

I thought of the future often, usually while looking at the stars from the quarterdeck. Sometimes I thought I’d been displaced in time and really belonged in the far distant future. In that time ships wouldn’t merely float on the seas. They would sail between the stars. Until then I had to plan for now. Any booty I took that was not traded for food or put into Storm Chaser’s upkeep was carefully hidden away. Not even Dewey knew where I hid my treasures. He was my first mate, but he was still a pirate.

I closed and locked the door to my cabin. There were only six days, assuming we kept fair weather, before we would attack the Spanish vessels again and I needed a new strategy. Storm Chaser was smaller and more maneuverable than their heavy galleons but the Spanish were getting accustomed to my tactics. Paralyzing them with fear simply by hoisting the Jolly Roger was sure not to work this time.

******

"So you really think they have potential? Sometimes I question your standards, Dewey."

The first mate grunted in response while simultaneously shoveling more food into his mouth. Unlike most crews we didn’t subsist on hard tack. I had always insisted a well-fed crew was a happy crew and I kept a fulltime cook onboard. Dewey had been with me for years but still ate like someone was going to take it from him and substitute the long-lasting biscuits.

"Come on, Cap’n. They’re not so bad and they’re all pulling their weight."

"You didn’t put that one-eyed jack in the crow’s nest?"

"His name is Jimmy and no, ‘course not. Got him scrubbin’ decks ‘til he’s needed."

"That’s a relief. What’d you do with the tall, skinny one?"

Dewey chewed some more before he answered with food in his mouth. "Stretch is in the crow’s nest. That extra height should make ‘im a better lookout than most."

Spittle sprayed across the table as he spoke and I felt my appetite desert me. Dinner with the first mate the night before an attack was traditional but I didn’t have to like it.

"Stretch? That’s original. Does he ever take that hat off?" In five days I’d never seen the young man without it.

Dewey shrugged in response. He sopped the last bit of gravy from his plate with a chunk of bread and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. I sat back and sipped from my ale so I wouldn’t have to see his cheeks bulge with the effort to chew. After a moment he swallowed audibly and cleared his throat before asking, "Is the plan ready?"

"It is. I’ll go over it with everyone in the morning so it’s fresh in their minds. Pirates aren’t noted for having the best memories."

"Hah! Too true!"

Dewey sat back, belched loudly and downed half his tankard. I scowled my disapproval and felt the first stirrings of slow, simmering anger. He could act how he wanted with the crew but I expected a measure of respect be extended to the captain.

"I think it’s time we call it a night." I stood but subtlety wasn’t something he understood well.

"Somethin’ wrong, Cap’n?

"Not at all. I think it’s time we both got a good night’s sleep. I don’t want any mistakes tomorrow or someone reverting to the previous ways we’ve attacked because they can’t think straight. The Spaniards aren’t stupid and I’m sure they’ll be ready for anything we’ve tried before."

He finally stood up, his body remembering to stand when I did even if his brain wasn’t fully engaged. "If we didn’t attack them so often we wouldn’t have to worry about that."

His comment came close to insubordination and was something I couldn’t ignore. "Are you questioning the way I do things, Mister Bernard?"

When angry I never raised my voice. If anything my tone lowered to almost a growl. That tone from me was usually enough to make others tremble with fear because a lashing would soon follow if amends were not made to my liking. Dewey was no exception.

He stumbled back a half step, almost tripping over a chair leg. "N…no, Cap’n. I’m quite satisfied. Couldn’t imagine a better cap’n to serve under. I didn’t mean nothin’!"

My face felt like it had been carved from granite. I didn’t want to let this go. I’d already been putting up with his disgusting lack of manners and this latest insult had pushed me too far. I wanted to see him tied to the foremast and lashed until he lost consciousness.

"Please, Cap’n! I should’ve thought before I spoke."

"Yes," I agreed icily. "You should have."

"It won’t happen again!"

Dewey was holding so tightly to the edge of the table that his fingertips had gone white. A bead of nervous perspiration tracked down his cheek. I let him stew with fear for several long seconds before I finally responded in a low, deadly voice. "No, it won’t. Have the crew assembled on the main deck at first light, Mister Bernard."

"Aye, Cap’n!"

"Was there something more?" I asked when he continued to gape stupidly at me.

"No, Cap’n!"

"Then why are you still here?"

"Oh! Sorry, Cap’n. Leavin’ now!"

Dewey backed hastily toward the exit, obviously worried about turning his back to me. He practically fell through the doorway, closed the door so hard it bounced open, the closed it again much more carefully.

I was seething in anger but smart enough to know my ire was partially fueled by nervous anticipation of the coming day. I let go of my anger with difficulty, drawing several deep breaths and releasing them slowly until I was in full control once more. A walk on deck under the stars was usually enough to help clear my head to focus on a coming attack and I decided it was the right thing to do after the encounter with my first mate. I grabbed my cutlass and slid it through my sash before I walked out onto the quarterdeck and turned aft. Regardless of what generated my ire I realized Dewey had crossed an invisible line. If he were guilty of any further transgressions, even a minor one, he would have to be disciplined. If I didn’t my crew would lose respect for me and I would risk mutiny.

The quarterdeck on the ship was mine; it was my territory where I could go to get away from the crew without actually stepping onto land. At night my crew even extended me the courtesy of having the stern for my traditional pacing. The skeleton crew swarmed over the remainder of the vessel ensuring Storm Chaser was ship-shape for the upcoming skirmish. I could hardly see the sailor high overhead in the crow’s nest and as I looked up the stars caught my eye. They were especially clear and bright. My attention was so captured that at first I didn’t realize I was not alone. It was the humming that gave it away. There below me at the rail of the stern stood a tall, lean figure. Even in the gloom I knew who the sailor was that had invaded my private space. The hat gave it away.

The buccaneer leaned with both forearms against the gunwale and stared without moving down into the water. The sea rushed against the hull, but the voice was clear and pure and unmistakably female. I’d never looked at her before, never really looked at any of the new hands, but now I wondered how her gender could have been missed. The moon was full and almost directly overhead. It clearly illuminated the feminine curves beneath the billowed white shirt. How could the crew who slept cheek by jowl in the forecastle each night be unaware? There was no question the rest of the crew didn’t know. Having a woman on board was considered the height of bad luck unless that woman was the captain.

Her voice was soft and lilting and I was captivated by it to the point where I actually forgot about my first love. The sea took second place against the siren song I was listening to until the young woman also realized she wasn’t alone.

She turned with a start, shrinking instinctively back against the rail into a fighting stance. When she identified her unexpected visitor as the captain of the Storm Chaser she immediately lowered her face until she was once again obscured in shadow. Slowly and quietly I descended the mast step onto the deck. She seemed to pull away even more until she appeared an apparition, but I had not seen her move. My eyes narrowed as I thought of what to say.

This woman was clearly a master of disguise to have hidden so well among the crew for six days. She moved with grace, but not like a dancer. Her movements were dangerous, sinuous. Should she choose to dispatch me I would be hard pressed to defend myself and I was no slouch in a physical contest. I knew I would have to take care in approaching this situation.

I strolled up beside her and rested my forearms against the rail as she had done earlier. From all appearances the sea mesmerized me and I let my gaze rest there, watching the swells for as far as possible in the night. Eventually she joined me, resuming her earlier position though I could sense the tension in the whip-thin frame.

"A little unusual for a lady to be impersonating a pirate."

"Who says I’m a lady?" Her voice was soft and held a trace of humor. It actually made me smile and glance askance at her, but still I could see little of her features.

"Don’t tell me you’ve come aboard to make your fortune? Obviously you’ve done well concealing your gender, but you can’t expect that to go on indefinitely."

One lean shoulder raised negligently in an offhand shrug. "Maybe I wanted to sail under the famous Captain Mary Read."

"And maybe you’re a liar. Tell me why I shouldn’t put you off the ship at the first opportunity."

"Because you like me."

"Like you? I don’t even know you!" I exclaimed in disbelief. Her audacity was incredible, but secretly I had to admit she was right. There was something about her that I found fascinating. Her scent was clean and sweet and I felt the first stirrings of desire.

"Not yet, but you want to."

I took a frustrated breath and decided to try a different track. "If I admit that will you tell me why you’re aboard my ship?"

She was briefly quiet, thoughtful in her response and I appreciated her even more. "I’m here to represent the King of England."

"You cannot possibly be serious." For the second time in thirty minutes my voice had dropped to its lowest register.

She lifted her face to look at me and the moon illuminated her features softly. Even in the darkness I could see she was beautiful and I felt the air leave my lungs. The color of her eyes was less substance and more shadow, but the fire that burned in them drew me in and threatened immolation if I didn’t look away. It was too late. I was already lost.

"May we retire to your cabin so that we may speak freely?"

"There’s no one else here," I pointed out, realizing how well educated she was.

"One can never be too careful."

That was a sentiment I couldn’t argue with and I was dying to know what she really looked like with that hat off. Something told me she wouldn’t come out of her disguise at that moment even had I threatened her with hanging.

"Follow me."