by Koko Brown
Relatively calm, the sea buffeted the ship’s hull with four foot waves causing it to bob up and down like a child’s qiāoqiāobǎn. As she climbed the stairs leading to the quarterdeck, a breeze ruffled her hair, relaxing her.
“How now my fair, Pao?” Lèsè called out.
A smile curled her young helm’s lips but she didn't take her eyes off the open sea. Only sixteen, the young girl manned the rudder with the upmost gravitas.
“I’m hoping the old woman calms down, mistress! She’s been feisty all morning.”
Bracing herself, Lèsè placed her hand on the railings and watched the foam cresting the main deck. She secretly prayed to the goddesses they were in front of a storm not heading into one. The sea was a treacherous bitch with violently swinging moods. One minute she could be smooth and clear as glass, the next dark and chaotic with the ability to swallow boats whole.
To her helm’s woman, Lèsè presented a different face. “This is child’s play,” she rounded. “It will make a woman out of you yet.”
“Maybe not this time, mistress. We’re only a day from shore.”
Lèsè eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Blessed with tailwinds?”
“Shi! The best we’ve had the entire voyage. It’s like the goddess want us to be home.”
Lèsè was of mutual mindset. More than three weeks at sea, they were running low on rations before coming across the British ship. The village they’d raided to replenish their supplies had been poorer than they’d expected due to a recent drought. Now with extra mouths to feed, she surmised they only had two or three days before things became dire.
Per her usual protocol, Lèsè collected her report of the day's conditions. Later, she would log them in her journal. Not every pilot kept one but she found them invaluable. Tracking the seasons helped her avoid unfavorable weather and keep note of shipping patterns, making her and her crew more efficient. Instead of wandering aimlessly when the routes were dry, they concentrated their efforts on marauding and pillaging villages for staples. Madame Singh didn't care where the take came from as long as it kept flowing into her coffers.
Once Pao finished her report, Lèsè relieved the girl of any kind of pressure a conversation would entail. Outside of maritime interests, Lèsè didn’t believe the girl had any other interests. There were times she wondered if Pao slept with a rudder when ashore.
“May I have a word with you, mistress?" Min-Ru sidled up to her and planted her feet. Her young protégé affected a serious expression. Lèsè wasn’t fooled. She’d noted the hesitation in the younger woman’s tone and her slanting gaze.
Her lack of confidence continued to bind Lèsè hands. Her second–in–command desperately wanted her own ship, but in good conscience she couldn’t entrust the lives of an entire crew in the hands of a woman she couldn’t trust to remain level-headed in a dangerous situation.
“Spit it out, Min.”
“The crew. They’re…talking.”
Lèsè snorted. “They’re always talking.”
“They’re wondering what you plan to do about the Englander.”
“It’s Brit,” Lèsè corrected, while somehow managing to keep her voice calm. This was her ship. She didn’t have to explain her actions or motivations to anyone.
Unaware of Lèsè’s change in demeanor, Min-Ru continued, “The crew have concerns—”
“Fuck their concerns,” Lèsè retorted, her tone turning cold. “This is my ship. As mistress if my actions have no bearing on the well-being of the crew, it’s none of their business what I do in my cabin and with whom.”
Undeterred by the explanation, Min-Ru pressed, “They are only being mindful of the codes, mistress.”
Goosebumps ran down Lèsè’s arms and she realized she needed to shut this down before it grew legs.
“I have done nothing to violate the codes.”
“Haung says he hears laughter and—”
Lèsè cut her off sharply, “For fucks sake, you’ve wasted enough of my time. If you have no more questions….”
In good spirits–thanks to the very person they were discussing–Lèsè turned her attention to the horizon instead of boxing her ears.
Of course, Min-Ru decided to take advantage of her unusual charity. “After we make port,” she continued, “will he also be transported to Madame Shih in Guangzhou?”
A pinprick of anger. “Did our manner of business change?”
“Then he will be ransomed along with the rest?”
“Yes.” Should I punch her in the throat now or later?
“And if no ransom is collected?”
Hands balled into fists, Lèsè had an unnerving feeling where this was going. Still, she entertained the other woman’s curiosity, “If Mr. Flynn’s company doesn’t pay the ransom, will he will be sold into slavery. And if he is do you plan to place a claim?”
“You know how I feel about slavery,” Lèsè ground out.
“What If I bid for him?”
A knife pulling, throwing punches kind of possessiveness rose up inside her fairly blinding in its intensity. Before she could talk herself out of it, she fisted Min’s blouse. With a smile not quite reaching her eyes, she avowed, “It will be hard to make a bid when you’re stuck on a boat in the China Sea.”
Min’s eyes widened. “A-a-another boat.”
Lèsè savored the other woman’s fear like a plate of spicy dumplings and nurtured it. “Jiang Chow’s no longer dry docked. He plans to shove off soon and he’s in desperate need of more bodies.”
And that was exactly how the merciless pirate viewed his crew. As disposable flesh to man his ship with little compensation while he reaped all the reward.
Smiling sweetly, Lèsè cocked her head. “You look a little pale.”
“I don’t want to sail for Jiang Chow,” Min implored, giving an adamant shake of her head. “He’s a monster.”
“Are you certain? I can put in a good word.” Her words held an unmistakable threat. “He’d love to have someone challenge and question him at every turn.”
“Duì bù qǐ…I’m sorry! I sail for no one but you, mistress” Min’s gaze skipped to the fist planted in her chest. “If you release me, I can go prove it to you. I’ll keep myself busy until we dock.”
“You do that,” Lèsè advised before letting her go.
Not willing to squander her good luck, Min hustled out of sight.
Too bad their conversation didn’t go with her second–in–command instead of implanting itself in her brain. Now her plans to deliver Flynn to Madame Shih, collect her reward then prepare for her next mission left a hollow ache in her chest.
Lèsè avoided her cabin until well after sunset. In the interim, she threw her back into more than just commanding the ship. She wanted to be so tired, the moment her head hit the pillow she’d fall into a blissful sleep. Putting her bos’n on a brief sabbatical, she took over their daily routine. She inspected the dinghies. Untied then retied most every knot aboard ship. Even applied pin and needle to a damaged sail.
Dead on her feet, she slogged to her cabin. She entered and with barely a good night to Flynn, she found her bed and collapsed.
TWELVE
Her skin prickled with heat. Yes! Just a little higher. Lèsè chomped down on her lower lip as his tongue pressed against her hot button. Giving her the most intimate of kisses, he stroked gently, circling the most secret of spots before capturing it in his mouth. He worked unhurriedly, stopping occasionally to nip her right thigh then the left.
Lèsè clawed at the feather mattress. With very little effort, Flynn wove an inescapable sensual web.
“Get up, mistress!”
Why in diyu would she want to get up? The dream was getting good.
“You must get up!”
Groaning, Lèsè rolled onto her stomach. Her tactic didn’t work. The hand kept jogging her shoulder.
“Pao’s gone. She’s been swept overboard.”
Lèsè’s eyes snapped open. “What did you say?”
A
shadow moved behind her. “If you touch me again, I’ll cut that hand off,” she warned, pushing back on her hands. Instead of coming up on her knees, she tumbled through the air and landed on the floor at the foot of the bed. Liu managed to stay put with the help of the bedpost. His white knuckle grip barely keeping him in place when the ship rolled again.
“Give me your hand.” Lèsè glared at Flynn’s outstretched hand. He’d braced himself against the table–one of the only two pieces of furniture permanently nailed down.
Gritting her teeth, Lèsè pushed herself from the floor and into his waiting arms.
“How long?”
“About an hour.”
Lèsè’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I tried…he tried.” He nodded to Liu cowering next to the bed. “You worked yourself dead.”i
All because of him, she thought ruefully. “How many are dead or injured?”
“I only know of Pao,” Liu stuttered. “She was swept overboard.”
Lèsè stilled, the blood in her veins chilling. “Who’s piloting us?”
Eyes wild with despair, Liu started rocking back and forth.
Patience not one of her virtues, Lèsè snapped, “Liu! Who’s steering the ship? Did anyone drop anchor?”
The muscle-bound baby shook his head. “I-I-I don’t know,” he blubbered. “Haung maybe Min-Ru.”
“The blind leading the hapless,” she hissed, disentangling herself. In the next instance, she grabbed onto the table when the ship lurched again. While she waited for the vessel to stop pitching, her gaze flew to the wall. Most of the weapons had been removed to prevent a temptation but the chest remained. Inside she would find rope.
She took a step and Flynn latched onto her wrist. “Let me go! You don’t seem to grasp the danger—”
“You are you not locking me up and leaving me here to die. Allow me to help.”
Glancing up, she cast him a searching look. “It’s your funeral.”
“I gladly face death if it’s by my own folly.”
If she had dreams, he would be at the center of them all, Lèsè reflected. His words. His actions. His very being. Rattled her to the very core.
“We’ll need rope,” he said, snapping to first.
“In the chest.”
Possessed of better sea legs than her, he paced over and lifted the lid. He pulled out four bundles and held them up. “You,” he said pointing to Liu. “Snap to. You’re going to help me tie a guiding rope. Get up!” he barked when the other man didn’t move.
Christian looked to her. “How long has the pathetic soul been sailing?”
“He told me all his life.”
“Not even,” Flynn concluded. Lèsè had to agree. Her man rose from floor white as a ghost.
“Come on man don’t piss on yourself,” Christian admonished. He quickly unraveled the rope and tied it around the man’s waist. “You’re going to be our anchor. All you have to do is sit here and wait the storm out. Can you do that?”
“Shi, shi.”
With the rope trailing behind him, Flynn stomped to the cabin door. Lèsè hurried after him only catching up to him at the top of the stairs.
“Bollocks,” he murmured, bracing himself in the doorframe. “I would be surprised if you had any crew left.”
Lèsè ducked under his arm. A quarter moon highlighted Mother Nature’s vindictive assault--eight to ten foot walls of sheer water buffeting both sides of the ship.
“Well at least someone had the sense to leave the sails alone.” Flynn shouted over the howling wind. “We’ll need to lash the rudder—”
“—and make sure no one’s dropped anchor,” she added.
Blue eyes flashing, he peered down at her. “I know this is not the place but hearing you take charge is making me harder than a brick.”
Lèsè rolled her eyes. “Focus, Flynn.”
“Grant me a boon,” he said, motioning for her to turn around. “If all else fails, and we have to lie ahull, we ride out the storm in each other’s arms?”
“What will we do with Liu?” She held up her arms while he wrapped the rope around her waist like he’d done with Liu. He did the same with the last rope then looped it through hers connecting them.
“We can put him in the middle.” He pulled on the rope, securing the knot. “Promise me we’ll ride out the storm in bed.”
Chuckling, she turned around to face him. Their gazes met and her smile faded. A flicker of what appeared to be hope colored her expression. They were facing sure death by the hand of Mother Nature and his life depended on crawling in bed with her? Whatever she saw in his expression must have comforted her because she gave him a slow smile and nodded, “We survive this, Mr. Flynn. We can do whatever you want.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she faced the onslaught.
“I won’t let you go,” Flynn said at her ear.
Finding that oddly reassuring, she edged onto the deck.
“Wait.” Teeth flashing white, he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her close. “This might be the last time,” he whispered before sealing his mouth over hers.
The kiss was a brief meeting of lips, over and done with before she could protest but the affect was still the same. He wanted to survive see another day.
“Take my hand,” he yelled. “I’ll swing you around and be your anchor so you can reach the stairs and vice versa.”
It was a heart-stopping moment as they fought their way topside under the onslaught of gale winds and towering walls of sea water. More than once she relied on his strength to keep her on her feet. And as the winds screeched in her ear, she realized this wasn’t some ordinary storm. They’d encountered a monsoon.
“We should secure the rudder first,” she shouted, removing her heaviest rope from her shoulder.
With his hands planted on his hips, they slogged over to the rudder. Six feet long and exactly three inches thick, the long cedar beam resembled a large needle. A couple of years back, she’d commissioned the ship’s carpenter to punch a hole through the tiller so that a rope could be threaded through it to secure it.
She nodded to two metal rings bolted to the deck. “Once we harness the helm, we’ll need to attach it to those rings there.”
Lèsè hauled the rudder toward her, directing the ship’s bow into the waves. Finding a sweet spot, she moved to secure its position, threading the rope through the tiller to Flynn. Slowly, with Herculean effort, they wound their ends through the brass brackets, re-looped them through the rudder then finished it off with a securing knot.
One down, one more to go.
Relieved, Lèsè leaned against the rudder. Christian’s hands slid next to hers. Her gaze stole over his soaked jacket, the rope around his waist, the rise and fall of his shoulders, his wet hair clinging to his face. She blinked at him through sheets of rain. He’d sacrificed much. All for the promise of getting her in bed. She almost felt sorry for him. He hadn’t for bargain. The least she could is make sure they made it out of this alive.
“The anchor,” she shouted, her voice muted by the caterwauling storm. “Someone dropped it.”
He waved his hand. “Ready when you are. I’m in no rush.”
The corners of her mouth twitched. On the brink of life or death, and he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. On wobbly legs, Lèsè shoved away from the tiller. Slurping in a deep breath, she steadied herself. Mooring the helm and fighting the storm took more out of her than expected. So much so, she eyed the distance with dread.
Under normal conditions, she could reach the railing in four paces. Those steps now looked like a trek through the Wuling Mountains. Arms akimbo for balance, she slogged to the railing. Beneath her, the boat pitched and bucked. Gusts of wind blustered around her. She stopped several times hoping her stillness would help her keep her footing. What she wouldn’t give to be neck deep in a steamy, hot bath. Scratch that! What she wouldn’t give to be in bed with Flynn. Damn, code!
A couple more steps. Throwing ca
ution aside, she lunged forward, hoping to close the dangerous distance now rather than later. She pulled out her knife. There was no way either of them could retrieve the anchor in this weather. Besides she really didn’t need it. There was a second ballast located near the stern.
The ship hurled up then slammed back down. Caught by surprise, Lèsè lost her footing. Feet scrambling for traction, she slid forward. Only stopping when she slammed into the rail. Heart pounding, she stole a peek over the edge. Her mouth went dry. The sea churned like a black abyss.
“Pao,” she whispered. She’d known the young girl ever since she was eleven. Stolen from her village, she’d been dumped on her by another captain. After discovering an odd, fish-shaped birthmark on her arm, the superstitious fool kicked her off his ship, quite literally, right into the bay. Thankfully, she’d been in port and witnessed the entire thing.
Unconcerned with the girl’s markings, she’d added her to her crew, apprenticing the frightened child to her then master rigger. A quick learner, Pao moved on to apprenticing with the master gunner and pilot. When given the choice of jobs aboard ship, the girl had chosen the latter, saying it made her feel like being the captain. Of good judgement and extremely intelligent, Pao had been at the top of her list to take over one of the boats she’d planned on purchasing to start her own fleet.
“Blasted woman you’re going to get us both killed. If you want to daydream, do it later when we’re in bed.” Flynn pried her knife from her cold, wet fingers. With the flip of his wrist, he sliced the anchor rope.
“Now about that b—”
He reached for her hand at the same moment the ship keeled starboard. Pitching them sideways. She grabbed for the guard rail. Her fingers gored the slippery surface but didn’t hold. The side of the ship was coming up too fast.
No, no, no! I will not die this way. Gritting her teeth, she grappled for her knife.
“Flynn!” she charged when she came up empty handed. But it was too late. A wall of water exploded skyward. Time stalled. Seconds ticking away between lighting the fuse and waiting for the detonation.
The wave broke, knocking her off her feet. Lèsè clawed at the deck to no avail. She kept tumbling toward the side and face first into the raging sea. The salt stung her eyes. Her lungs burned from the sudden rush of water. Her throat constricted. The echo of churning waves echoed in her ears. Her vision darkened. Sucked in, she prayed to any god who would listen for a quick death.
