Lust of the Pirates

by Callista Hawkes

  “I can’t swim.” She replies, her eyes watering.

  “Then it doesn’t sound like you have a choice.” You tell her gently. “Come Miss. You have my word you’ll not be harmed.” She glances fearfully at the flames before her and the endless waves of the Caribbean Sea behind her and nods. You guide her back through the narrow gap beneath the mast and she crawls through onto the charred remains of the deck. You quickly follow her and pull her to her feet. Your men have thrown a gangplank across the gap between the vessels and you take her hand and lead her across to the Nemesis. You jump down onto the deck and help her down while your men quickly withdraw the gangplank and Sykes steers the vessel away from the remains of her burning ship.

  “Welcome aboard.” You grin. Even with her pale blue dress ripped and covered in grime and her face blackened with ash, she is quite beautiful. “Miss Abigail Waterfield I presume?” She nods, glancing around nervously at the fearsome faces of the cutthroats you call your crew. Anne Bonny pushes through them and stands with you.

  “You need have no fear here.” Anne reassures her. “Any of these scum so much as look at you funny, I’ll cut their balls off.” She glares malevolently around her, the crew shrinking back slightly.

  Continue

  “Damn it.” You reply, watching the inferno raging before you. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “A Captain’s first responsibility is to his crew.” Sykes reminds you sympathetically.

  “I know that.” You snap, turning away and trying to block out the agonised screams as you turn the ship about and head away from the burning hulk.

  “You killed her?!” Tia replies incredulously as you explain your ill-fated voyage. You have returned to Nassau and stand in her brothel, your tri-cornered hat grasped before you.

  “An unfortunate outcome.” You wince, not meeting her accusing gaze.

  “Most unfortunate.” She replies. “I thought you a reliable Captain but I see I was mistaken. You are rash and foolish.” You bristle, opening your mouth to retort, but she raises a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Our partnership is at an end.” She turns her back to you and having been abruptly dismissed, you take your leave. As you leave the brothel and hurry through the cobbled streets, you see the masts of the Nemesis stretching above the palm trees lining the fringe of the beach. The sails are all neatly hoisted and stowed beneath the yard arms. You smile to yourself: There is plenty of plunder in the West Indies without chasing after mythical Mayan treasure…

  After a disappointing month at sea, you return to Nassau to find the whole town awash with talk of Captain Vane’s triumphant return, the hold of his ship, the Ranger brimming with Mayan treasure. You curse under your breath and head briskly towards the tavern. You glance at the brothel as you pass, spotting Tia standing proudly on the veranda. She wears a fine dress and jewels glitter at her throat and wrists. She flashes you a knowing smile and you smile ruefully back, quickening your step as you hurry on to the comfort of the tavern and rum fuelled oblivion.

  THE END

  Go back a few moments and rethink your actions

  “We don’t want any harm to befall young Miss Waterfield.” You tell Sykes. “A shot across her bows should suffice.”

  “Aye Captain.” Sykes grins, instructing a gunner. The peaceful afternoon is shattered by the deafening boom of a cannon echoing across the sky. A cannonball splashes into the sea a few yards short of your quarry’s bow, sending a plume of water splashing up into the air. Moments later, their gun ports all close one after the other. They clearly have no stomach for a fight against your superior broadside. The Nemesis draws closer, your men gathering with grappling hooks, ropes, planks and cutlasses. The opposing crew stand ready, brandishing knives, cutlasses and clubs. While no doubt experienced sailors, they do not look hardened fighters like your crew. Still, you may well suffer a few casualties in taking the ship. As you draw alongside, you spot the opposing captain eyeing you warily from his own quarterdeck.

  Storm the ship

  Bargain with the Captain

  “Take ‘em!” You shout down at your crew. A cheer goes up and grappling hooks fly through the air, lines quickly pulled taut as your quarry is reeled in. Musket fire answers from the rigging and a couple of your men are snatched back.

  “Sharpshooters!” Sykes calls out, drawing his own musket and taking aim. The bullet finds its target and a man tumbles down onto the deck below with a sickening thud. More musket fire follows, the acrid smell of gunpowder in the air as the other shooters are quickly dispatched. Gangplanks have been hastily thrown across the narrow gap between the vessels and several of your men are already across and fighting with the sailors. You draw your own cutlass, briskly spanning the gap to join them, jumping down onto the deck and slicing across the chest of a sailor about to deliver the killing blow to one of your fallen men.

  “Thank you Captain!” He smiles gratefully as you help him back to his feet. Your men are savagely cutting through your opponent’s crew and you almost feel sorry for them, but this is no time for compassion. You spot their Captain, cut off and isolated on his quarterdeck. Three of your men close in on him.

  “No! He’s mine!” You shout out. They obediently back off and you face the Captain.

  “I’ll run you through, you dog!” He growls at you as you advance towards him. While of a willowy physique, he seems to have a bit more grit and determination than his crew. You recognise the traits of a veteran of the Royal Navy.

  “You’ll try.” You sneer, easily swatting away his initial swing. He follows up with a couple more blows which you deflect away. The rest of his crew seems to have been beaten and your own crew form a ring around you both, watching and cheering as you duel.

  “Tell me, how does one become such a ruthless, barbaric animal such as yourself?” The Captain asks.

  “Our good King didn’t seem to mind when we were privateers, sinking French and Spanish ships.” You reply, countering with a couple of swings of your own, the Captain blocking them. His technique is good. A worthy opponent.

  “Cutting down your own countrymen. Have you no shame?!” He continues.

  “The same countrymen who would gleefully hang me and my crew from the highest yard arms in Bristol?” You reply, blocking another couple of wild swings. “England is not my country. This ship is my country and I am its King!” With that, you lash out with a boot, knocking the Captain off balance. He flails for a moment and you have an opening to finish him.

  Knock the sword from his grasp

  Run him through

  You grasp the opportunity to finish him and drive your blade through the Captain’s chest. His eyes bulge and blood wells up in his mouth, dripping from his lips.

  “Forgive me Captain.” You smile grimly. “You were a worthy opponent, but there can be only one victor.”

  “A curse on you, pirate!” He gasps with his dying breath and lunges forward, thrusting his cutlass through your stomach and impaling you before falling at your feet. You howl in agony, dropping to your knees, clutching the hilt of the dead Captain’s blade, your hands red with your own gushing blood. The Captain lies on his back in an expanding pool of blood, his lifeless eyes seeming to gaze triumphantly back at you.

  “Captain!” You hear Anne shout out, her freckled face appearing before you, her long red hair billowing in the breeze. The sun is directly behind her giving her a halo of bright light.

  “Like a foul-mouthed Irish angel.” You smile before slumping forward and slipping into unconsciousness as you rapidly bleed out.

  THE END

  Go back a few moments and rethink your actions

  You smash the hilt of your sword into his hand, no doubt breaking several of the small bones. The Captain howls in agony, the sword dropping from his grasp and clattering onto the deck. He looks up fearfully, expecting the killing blow. Instead, you kick his sword away and lower your own.

  “You have fought honourably Captain and your crew have given a good account of themselves.
” You tell him. “No need for any further bloodshed.” His fear fades and his shoulders slump.

  “You have my surrender.” He sighs.

  A few minutes later, his remaining crew are on their knees in the middle of the main deck while your own crew hurriedly relieve them of the contents of their hold. You follow them below decks, searching for Abigail. You stalk up and down the darkened gun deck between rows of cannon, the shadows punctuated by bright beams of sunlight shining in through the wooden lattice gratings from the main deck above. The girl is nowhere to be seen. You are about to return above decks and interrogate the captain when you hear a low whimper. You grin, following the sound to a wooden crate next to one of the cannons you had taken for ammunition storage. You wrench the lid off and reach inside, grasping the arm of the cowering figure and hauling her from the crate. She shrieks in terror, struggling to free herself from you.

  “Have no fear girl, I mean you no harm.” You tell her. Something in your voice seems to sooth her and she looks up from beneath a dishevelled dark fringe, her chestnut brown eyes wide and fearful. She steps out of the crate, running her fingers through her long hair and dusting down her exquisitely tailored pale blue dress. “Miss Abigail Waterfield I presume?” You grin. She nods meekly and as she steps forward, her delicate features illuminated by one of the shafts of light, you are struck by her beauty. Tia was certainly not exaggerating. You lead her back up onto the main deck. As you step back out into the sunlight, Abigail gasps at the carnage around her, several corpses still lying on deck.

  “I’m sorry Miss Waterfield, I’ve failed you.” The Captain tells her miserably.

  “Get the last of the cargo aboard.” You tell Sykes. You turn towards the captain. “I thank you for your hospitality this day, sir.” You grin.

  “A curse on you and your ship.” He mutters darkly. You chuckle and lead Abigail across the gangplank to the Nemesis. You jump down onto the deck and help her down while your men quickly withdraw the gangplank and Sykes steers the vessel away from her ship, setting a course back towards Nassau.

  “Welcome aboard.” You grin. Abigail glances around nervously at the fearsome faces of the cutthroats you call your crew. Anne Bonny pushes through them and stands with you.

  “Don’t you worry, love.” Anne reassures her. “Any of these scum so much as look at you funny, I’ll cut their balls off.” She glares malevolently around her, the crew shrinking back slightly.

  Continue

  “There is no need for harm to come to either your ship or your men!” You shout across the narrow expanse of water between the ships. “Throw down your weapons and prepare to be boarded or by God I’ll send you all to Davy Jones.” A hush falls upon your crew, a nervous tension in the air as they brandish their cutlasses and await your orders.

  “I have your word?” The Captain shouts across at you. “You will take our cargo and leave?”

  “I swear it.” You reply solemnly.

  “Then you have our surrender.” The Captain replies, deflated.

  A few minutes later, his crew are on their knees in the middle of the main deck while your own crew hurriedly relieve them of the contents of their hold. Sykes returns from below decks and catches your eye before shaking his head.

  “Captain.” You turn to the thin, middle aged man who seems to have grown paler with each crate carried from his vessel. “One item of cargo has not been accounted for.”

  “Oh?” He replies.

  “Yes.” You reply, drawing your cutlass and brandishing it threateningly. “An item of livestock.”

  “We carry no livestock.” He replies, swallowing nervously.

  “Livestock by the name of Miss Abigail Waterfield.” You add firmly.

  “Oh I see.” He laughs nervously. “Regrettably, Miss Waterfield took a fever and passed away some three weeks since. She was buried at sea. Lovely girl. Very sad. Tragic really.”

  Accept the Captain’s explanation

  Interrogate him further

  “I see.” You sigh. Unfortunate, but these things happen. You glance at the decent haul already piled up on your deck. Still, hardly a wasted trip. You slide your cutlass back into its scabbard. “Tragic.” You echo. “Well Captain, I congratulate you on your good sense. Many of your men owe you their lives this day.” It seems of scant consolation to him as you follow your men back to the Nemesis and sail away from the ransacked vessel.

  “Tia can find some other fool to chase her Mayan ghosts.” You tell Sykes as you head back towards the Bahamas.

  “The men will be pleased to hear that sir.” Sykes replies, his relief palpable. “We’re pirates, not explorers.”

  “Yes we are.” You grin, already looking forward to the thrill of the chase as you pillage your way across the Caribbean.

  After a disappointing month at sea, you return to Nassau to find the whole town awash with talk of Captain Vane’s triumphant return, the hold of his ship, the Ranger brimming with Mayan treasure. You curse under your breath and head briskly towards the tavern. You glance at the brothel as you pass, spotting Tia standing proudly on the veranda. She wears a fine dress and jewels glitter at her throat and wrists. She flashes you a knowing smile and you smile ruefully back, quickening your step as you hurry on to the comfort of the tavern and rum fuelled oblivion.

  THE END

  Go back a few moments and rethink your actions

  “And your log will back up such a tragedy I’m sure?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes at him.

  “Ah, er… Not quite…” The Captain stutters. “I thought under the circumstances… not being a crew member as such…” You hold up a hand, silencing him and turn your attention to his crew. You walk among them for a few minutes, studying each in turn. Some glaring defiantly back at you, others averting their gaze, while some stare at the deck, defeated and humiliated. You spot one figure, the brim of his hat pulled down low. A blanket wrapped around his shoulders. You walk slowly along the lines until you reach him. You snatch away the hat and blanket, long dark hair tumbling down from inside the hat and an exquisitely tailored pale blue dress revealed beneath the blanket. Wide chestnut brown eyes gaze fearfully up at you, her delicate features quite beautiful.

  “Miss Abigail Waterfield I presume?” You grin, pulling her to her feet.

  “Unhand me you dog.” She spits, slapping you across the face. Your men roar with laughter as you grasp her other hand, your cheek stinging from the impact.

  “Charming.” You chuckle, pulling her hands behind her back and binding her wrists with a short length of rope. “Get the last of the cargo aboard.” You tell Sykes, pushing her towards him. You turn towards the captain. “I should run you through for your deception.” You tell him darkly. “But you have generally co-operated,” You lash out, punching him hard in the face. The Captain reels away with blood gushing from his nose, “So I’ll let you off with a warning.” You follow the rest of your men back aboard the Nemesis and sail briskly away, setting a course back towards Nassau.

  As you leave the ship in your wake, Sykes behind the wheel, you turn your attention back to Abigail.

  “Welcome aboard!” You grin. She stiffens, her earlier bravado punctured now she is alone before you. With her arms tied behind her back, her chest is thrust forward and you notice several of the crew leering at her. She glances fearfully about her, all too conscious of their lustful gaze. Anne Bonny pushes through them and stands with you.

  “You need have no fear here.” Anne reassures her. “Any of these scum so much as look at you funny, I’ll cut their balls off.” She glares malevolently around her, the crew shrinking back slightly.

  “And that’s just the start of it.” You add, scowling at them. You turn back to Abigail, your expression softening. “Now miss, unless you’re an exceptionally strong swimmer, I don’t think I need to restrain you do I? Give me your word that you will not try any mischief and I’ll untie your wrists.”

  “You have my word.” She replies meekly. Anne draws a knife and cuts
the ropes free, Abigail massaging her tender wrists.

  Continue

  “This is purely a business arrangement.” You tell Abigail. “As soon as your father pays the ransom, we will reunite you and you can go on with your life.”

  “Having a woman aboard is bad luck.” Sykes tells you darkly from behind the wheel.

  “Not from where I’m standing.” You grin, your gaze drawn to her corset enhanced cleavage.

  “In any case, what the fuck am I?” Anne snarls at Sykes. The crew offers a few lewd suggestions that don’t improve her disposition.

  “Consider yourself my guest.” You tell Abigail. She stares sullenly back at you. “You will sleep in my cabin and in my bed.” You tell her, suppressing a smile at the lewd comments murmured from the crew. “I, of course, will make alternative arrangements.” Even in these surroundings, she seems to hold herself with elegance and poise that speaks of a privileged upbringing. She is of average height with a slender body, though with a gentle swell through the hips. Her breasts are generous and yet firm. Her face is quite beautiful, her delicate features framed with lustrous long black hair.

  “Come Miss,” Anne tells her gently, “Let me show you to your quarters.”

  Over the next day or so, Abigail seems to relax a little, perhaps trusting in that both Anne and yourself would be there to protect her from the rest of the crew. You watch from behind the wheel as she walks along the main deck towards you with the air of a lady taking a morning stroll in the park. She holds a small parasol over her shoulder, protecting herself from the hot sun. Your initial puzzlement as to where she found a parasol on this ship is swiftly forgotten as you are distracted by the youthful bounce of her breasts as she climbs the steps to join you on the quarterdeck.