by Merry Farmer
When he was in the room, he primarily ignored her. At first, she was content with it, but as the days dragged on she became annoyed with it all.
At least she had begun to convince her guard to speak with her. He was young, about the same age as herself, she figured. He was often the one who brought in her food, and he turned a bright pink when she spoke with him. He had introduced himself as Joey the first time he had served her, and one night not long afterward she had begun to question him.
“How, Joey, did a nice boy like you come to find himself on a pirate ship?”
“I sailed on a merchant ship and our ship was taken,” he said as he slid the plate in front of her.
“Captain Ramsay captured you?” she exclaimed. “He forced you to serve him?”
“No,” he said, quickly shaking his head. “The Captain took our ship but allowed those of us who survived the option to serve under him. I took it.”
He lowered his voice and looked around furtively, though it was only the two of them in the cabin.
“It wasn’t only that I didn’t want to die — for I certainly didn’t — but I also didn’t care what master I served. At the time, anyway. Now,” he looked up at her, his gaze insistent. “I wouldn’t serve under any other.”
“Why?” she asked, intrigued. Captain Ramsay was known as the worst on the seas. Why would a man want to serve him?
“We plunder often, ’tis true,” he said, “but we are rewarded handsomely for it. We never lose a fight, not with Captain Ramsay leading us. If you cross him, you’re as good as dead, but as long as you keep to his rules, he treats you well. Something you best remember. And he and Bastian are more fair with the loot than any other I’ve ever encountered. It’s why all the men are so loyal to him. “
“I see,” she murmured, wondering if this new pirate’s loyalty stretched far enough to keeping a young woman captive. “Thank you, Joey.”
“Of course,” he said, bobbing his head, his cheeks still pink. “I should be waiting outside now.”
His words worried her some. She had hoped that throughout the sail to Portugal she could tempt him into turning against Captain Ramsay and helping her escape, but now she was unsure if that would be an option.
It was a conundrum. And one that she had very little time to figure out, for they would find themselves in port in no time at all.
Ramsay joined the helmsman, Needlenose Finley, where he stood with Bastian as the shoreline came into view. Red peaks on white buildings stretched along the shoreline, with an expanse of green behind as backdrop. Lisbon.
The three of them watched in silence as it came ever closer. This was always rather tense, pulling into port on this side of the Atlantic, for it put them in danger of being captured. So far, their ruse of disguising themselves and the ship as merchants had worked, but one never knew when the ploy might be discovered.
Bastian had already inspected the crew in their merchant clothing — not so different from their pirate wear, but the one piece of clothing they kept neat and respectable for visits such as these. They could raid a town and steal most of their supplies, true, but Ramsay preferred to steal directly from Portuguese ships, not from the people on shore who had no means of defense. He would take the stolen coin from his hold to buy what they needed. He had already distributed it among the select members of his crew who would go ashore.
“You sure you don’t want to conduct a raid?” Bastian asked, eyeing Ramsay.
“Then we would be on the run,” Ramsay said, cross that Bastian didn’t fully agree with him. “We would lose our cover. I don’t mind the odd raid, but I’d like to remain inconspicuous. We want the names of Ramsay and The Raven’s Wing to be feared, but I’d prefer it is not known who to look for.”
“Fair enough,” said Bastian with a sigh.
“Not to worry,” Ramsay said, slapping him on the shoulder. “There will be time soon enough for a good battle. Save it for Ortego.”
“That will be weeks away,” Bastian said, looking through the spyglass, eyeing the shore. “I’m not sure I can wait that long.”
“It’s a long voyage,” Ramsay said with a shrug. “One never knows what — or who — we might come across.”
“True,” Bastian replied, slightly more optimistically.
They docked at the far end of the port, their flag, of course, down, replaced with Red Ensign of Britain.
“You best be going into your cabin, Captain,” Finley said wisely. “Your face is the one known around here, and we wouldn’t be wanting anyone to recognize you.”
Into the cabin. With the woman he had been trying to avoid for the past week. But his helmsman was right. By staying out in the open, he could put them all in jeopardy. Ramsay was a proud man, but he wasn’t stupid.
“Be quick about it,” he said to Bastian, who nodded before continuing to the main deck, hollering at the men to prepare to go ashore.
Ramsay hadn’t touched foot on the shores of Europe in years now. In many of the pirate strongholds in the Caribbean, he was celebrated upon his return, though he had to be careful, for there were some who were beginning to look rather poorly upon men such as he.
He had found, however, that with certain bribes he could be fairly sure of a positive reception in most places he went.
Over here, everything was different. It was a necessary evil to stop to prepare for the weeks at sea. Healthy men worked much harder than those too ill and weak to work.
Now, for the lass. He enjoyed teasing her, but truth be told he was the one who came out worse for it. The more time he spent around her, the more he wanted to break his own rules and take the woman to his bed, no matter the consequences.
While she continually told him how despicable he was, somehow, he had the feeling that she might be more agreeable to his touch than she let on. Sometimes one couldn’t help what — or who — they wanted. But he had to hear her say it. And until then, he would leave her be. It was hard enough to spend a few hours a night hanging across the room from her in his hammock, knowing she was sleeping in a thin chemise just a few feet away.
He certainly couldn’t forget it. She snored as well as any of his men.
“Joey,” he greeted the lad who stood outside his door. Ramsay hadn’t been sure he could trust him at first, coming as he did from another ship, so he had given him the ultimate test — guarding the woman. He’d had another man, one he trusted, keeping an eye on Joey, but thus far the boy had proven loyal.
“How is the wench?” he asked, and he detected a slight bit of pink rise in Joey’s cheeks. But then, the boy’s skin was so fair that it turned red just from standing in the sun.
“She says she’s bored, Captain,” Joey said with a shrug. “But otherwise all is well. She’s ah, she’s currently in the latrine.”
Ramsay stole a look down the corridor but nodded.
“Very well.”
He was about to step into the cabin when he heard a decisive splash. He looked to Joey.
“Did you hear that?”
Joey’s eyes were as wide as could be. He nodded quickly, and they stared at one another for a quick moment before running to the quarter galley, where Ramsay’s latrine was located. Ramsay threw open the door. The balcony was empty.
He ran to the edge, looking out over the rail.
There, below him, he could see a dark head bobbing up and down in the water.
Pale arms flailed about her head as Penny turned toward shore.
“Bloody wench,” he muttered.
“Ah, Captain?” Joey said, looking chagrined, obviously blaming himself for this. “Should I go in after her?”
Ramsay looked the lad up and down. He wasn’t a particularly big man, and he was still rather soft despite spending the last few months at sea, though he was slowly growing stronger.
“How well can you swim?” he asked, and the boy hesitated, looking down over the rail.
“I can survive,” Joey admitted, “but I cannot swim overly well.”
&
nbsp; Joey’s brow furrowed as he looked out at the water.
“Ah, Captain? I think the lass is drowning.”
Ramsay took another look over the railing. Should he let her?
“You — you are going to save her, aren’t you?” Joey looked up at him with some pleading in his eyes.
It would make sense for him to let her drown. It was against their articles for a woman to be on the ship. She had knowledge that could hurt the lot of them.
Ramsay hesitated. He glanced at Joey then looked at Penelope. If he had to guess, it was her skirts that were weighing her down. He did admire the fact that despite her struggles, she never called out for help — she simply continued doing all she could to propel herself to shore. Ramsay had seen many a man overboard, however, and he knew that she would never make it.
“Damn it all,” was all he said. He reached down and pulled off his boots, first one and then the other landing in a thunk on the deck. Then he climbed on the rail, lifted his arms overhead, and executed a perfect dive down into the water far below.
Chapter 6
Penny had visualized her escape over and over during the monotony of the last six days.
This was not what it had looked like in her mind.
For one, she should be closer to shore. The stern of the ship, however, was quite far away.
Secondly, the water had been much calmer in her vision. One would think that so close to shore it would have tamed some, but of course, it was an especially windy day.
She also didn’t think it would have taken so long for her to hit the water. But the quarter galley turned out to be much higher than she had thought.
Finally, she hadn’t counted on the weight of her skirts.
She continued to churn her arms and kick her legs, just like her uncle had taught her all those years ago, but it had been far too long since she had put any of the skills into practice. Her legs were no help with all of the material that caught around them, dragging her down to toward the bottom.
Penny’s head continued to dip below the surface, but she used every ounce of strength within her to find the air again. She refused to die because of her own stupid decision. She wouldn’t give Ramsay the satisfaction.
As she looked up, trying to make out the shore once more, she came to one conclusion — her dress had to go or else she would. She tried to shrug out of one shoulder of the gown, but the wet fabric clung to her skin.
Maybe if she was able to get some of the buttons undone in the back. She took a deep breath, knowing she would have to go under for a moment to unfasten them as she wouldn’t be able to use her arms. She sank as she tried to undo the buttons, kicking her feet desperately to stay as close to the surface as possible.
She freed but one button before she fought to the surface to gasp for air and then she was dragged down once more.
Oh God, she prayed, don’t let me die this way.
What she did know was that she wouldn’t go down without a fight. She finally resurfaced, hoping that when she did the shore would have grown much closer.
Sadly, it had not. The opposite was true. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she was moving farther away. Should she try to swim back to The Raven’s Wing? What would Ramsay do if he knew she had tried to escape? She thought of the man he had keelhauled. Perhaps this was the better way to go.
The water threatened to take away all choice, however, as it enveloped her once more, pulling her down, threatening to take her into its depths forever. A sob was lodged deep in her throat as Penny despaired for all of the foolish, reckless decisions that had brought her here, to this point.
And then when she thought all hope was gone, that her short life had culminated here, something strong and taut encircled her waist, pulling her to the surface faster than she ever could have swum herself. When her head broke through, she gulped fresh, delicious air, never more grateful for the view of the sun high overhead.
Just when she thought to seek out her savior, he was gone, though Penny could still feel the pressure of a hand on her waist. There was a pull on her skirts, and then suddenly they were gone, liberating her with a lightness that caused relief to flood through her. She could swim again. She was free. She kicked her feet hard now toward shore, but then a hand wrapped around her bare ankle and pulled her back.
“Not so fast,” came the growl in her ear as the arm retightened around her waist.
Ramsay.
She was helpless as he turned on his back, holding her atop of him as he kicked his way back to the ship. Neither of them said a word until they reached The Raven’s Wing, which hadn’t been overly far away. Penny saw one of the pirates throw down a rope, which Ramsay grabbed.
“On my back,” he commanded.
“But—”
“I said on my back.” He ground out the words.
“All right,” Penny squeaked as she swam behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her bare legs around his hips. She closed her eyes for a moment, for this was certainly not how she would have pictured herself straddling a man for the first time. When he began to climb, she looked down, breathing a sigh of relief that he had cut her skirts low enough so that she wasn’t completely bare to this pirate crew who would be awaiting the finish of their climb.
When they reached the rail, Ramsay lifted her over and deposited her on the deck as though she was nothing more than a sack of potatoes.
Fortunately, the deck was fairly empty, save for a few men, including Joey. The look he gave Penny was one of such disappointment that she nearly felt ashamed. But then she reminded herself that he was a pirate — just like the rest of the men aboard this ship. She should certainly not be ashamed that she had tried to escape them.
“What in the hell did you think you were doing?” Ramsay said, his words calm and yet laced with such anger that it almost would have been better had he shouted at her.
She tried to answer him, but all she could manage was a few coughs. She had swallowed more water than she realized, for she suddenly acknowledged her bloated stomach. She managed to turn to the side before water came spewing out. Ramsay made a sound of disdain that suggested he thought he deserved her pain before he ordered one of the boys to clean it up.
He then bent, picked her up over his shoulder, and dragged her back down to his cabin.
Penny closed her eyes in defeat as she went limp, too tired to fight for the moment, though melancholic. Not her prison cell. Not again.
When they reached the cabin, Ramsay threw her on the bed before repeating his question.
“Now that half the ocean is out of your stomach, you can answer my question. What in the hell were you doing?”
Penny scrambled to her feet, as unsteady as she was. While he would still tower over her, she would not have him speaking down to her as though she were a child.
“I believe it is rather clear that I was attempting an escape,” she said, forcing herself to remain as calm as could be.
“Attempting suicide is more like it,” he said, advancing toward her now. “You would have drowned had I not jumped in after you.”
“But I didn’t.”
“You could have.”
They stood toe-to-toe now, each of them silently fuming.
“Perhaps I would prefer drowning than staying here on The Raven’s Wing,” she finally managed, and he cocked an eyebrow.
“I highly doubt that,” he said. “Despite your stupidity, you seem to be the type of woman who yearns for life.”
“Not if it means being tortured to death,” she retorted.
“I have given you the finest of comforts,” he barked. “You are in my bed, damnit.”
“It might as well be a prison,” she said, “sitting in here alone for hours, day after day. And we still have weeks to go! I stowed away on a ship because I love to sail! I want to be free, to feel the wind in my hair and the sun on my face, to smell the spray of the ocean salt and fly as free as the very raven your ship is named for. But here I am,
shuttered away in this godforsaken room alone, with nothing to occupy my time. Please, Ramsay, just let me out!”
Her throat was raw, her body shaking with fury, and cold, she realized. Despite the fact that the air temperature was quite warm, between the chilled seawater clinging to her skin from the remaining fabric, her bare legs below, and the shock at nearly drowning, she couldn’t stop trembling.
Between that and the despair at being trapped in here for weeks more, for the loss of any hope of freedom, she let out a sob of anguish.
“Stop that,” Ramsay commanded, pointing a finger at her.
Penny worked her lip between her teeth in an attempt to do as he said, but even in this, her body refused to comply with his order as her sobs threatened once more.
“There is no crying on this ship,” Ramsay said, stomping his foot on the ground, though his action was as childish as her crying in frustration was. “Do you know why, Penelope? Because we never have any women on this ship!”
“You were nearly rid of me!” she burst out at him through her tears. “You could have been, one way or another — either through my escape or through my drowning.”
The realization dawned on her. It should have long before, but she was too focused on all else that had occurred.
“You saved me,” she said, awestruck for a moment. “Why?”
It was the very question Ramsay had been asking himself ever since he had shed his boots and dived into the salty water.
Why rescue her?
Why, when there were so many others he would readily send to their deaths by a swim in the sea? He could hardly remember the last time he had saved someone’s life instead of ending it.
Ramsay wished the woman was a bit more grateful, but then, he could imagine that if someone had told him he would be spending weeks on end within a tiny cabin, he would go mad himself.
She was still waiting for an answer. She looked up at him with those blue eyes open as wide as could be, every inch of her that was exposed puckered in gooseflesh, her entire body trembling wildly.
