“Love the speech,” he said. “Always good when I get a chance to hear it.”
“I could shorten it a bit. I could see the sacrificial lamb getting itchy about halfway through. If he’d decided to act before speaking, he might have caused others to make reckless decisions. Was the captain among the crowd I just addressed?”
“Nah. He was a little too rambunctious, so Caraveo took him down below. He’s alive, just a bit less full of blood than he was this morning.”
“Still have all his pieces?”
“Mm-hmm. He’ll get a fine scar for his trouble.”
Henriette settled on the edge of the desk and looked down at the pile. “Find anything of interest?”
“Not much we haven’t gotten from other ships,” he said. “The man who used to sit in this chair wasn’t exactly a scholar, and he didn’t keep updated records. But...” He held up a journal and tossed it into Henriette’s hands. “Trade routes and nautical charts better than we have.”
Henriette cooed as she thumbed through the yellow pages. “Spectacular.”
“Ship is called the Rebecca, by the by.”
She wrinkled her nose as if catching a bad smell. “Without fail. You give a man ownership of a thing, he immediately feminizes it. Women as possessions. What a way to see the world.” She stood and tucked the journal under her belt. She would give it to Caraveo herself. “Let me know if you find anything else worth my attention.”
He muttered some sort of assurance and she left him to his work.
Back in the sunlight, she squinted to watch the captive crew march obediently below deck. Caraveo was supervising, one hand on her sword and the other on her pistol, but she didn’t seem overly concerned about a revolt. The dead crewman was still lying where he had fallen. She would leave the body for his crewmates to dispose of properly.
She walked to the railing on the seaward side of the ship, so she could look out over the water. The ocean felt different here. Rebecca didn’t have the same personality as the Rib of Man. It was a smaller ship, heavier, and the water affected it differently. Being aboard it was like standing in a stranger’s shoes, breathing with his lungs, wearing his skin.
“Ma’am.”
The other woman had approached without a sound, and Henriette graced her with a smile. “You’re a terror on those soft feet of yours.”
Ofelia Solis tried to disguise how pleased she was at the praise. She held out a small book. “We got this off one of the crew. A woman. English, young.”
“Is she with the rest of the crew?”
“Aye. Nearly took my head off when I grabbed the book from her, but she decided it was better to lose the book and keep her head than the other way ‘round.”
“Another scrappy one, hm? This crew seems to be full of them.”
Henriette accepted the book and unwound the leather strap holding it closed. Ofelia remained where she stood since she hadn’t been dismissed. Henriette anticipated the book would be nothing more than a journal full of some random girl’s idle thoughts, written to keep her mind off the boredom of a long sea voyage. Such things might be useful in revealing new routes, new ports of call, or any number of things it might be useful to know, but she expected little. Instead, she was startled to find page after page of detailed charts.
“Well, hello...” She slowed her fingers and examined each drawing. Maps of the stars and the sea, with clearly marked distances and knots. “Ofelia, the girl you took this from, you said she’s below with the rest of the crew?”
“Aye.”
“Bring her to me.”
Ofelia vanished below decks. Henriette ran her fingers over the page and thumbed to the back, then to the front. Every entry seemed to be written by the same hand with artistic representations of islands they had presumably passed. There were also a handful of portraits that were also very well done. Henriette ignored them for the time being and focused on the star charts. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but they were extraordinary if they were accurate.
This time Ofelia didn’t bother to silence her approach. Her footsteps were echoed by that of her prisoner. Henriette waited until they stopped before she closed the book to give them her attention. The owner of the book was a slender woman with a man’s haircut, a lock of ink black hair falling across her eyes. It was easy to see why she hadn’t bothered to masquerade as a man; her lips were too full, her throat far too thin, to ever belong to a man. She might have tried passing as a lad if she wasn’t so unusually tall. She was Henriette’s height, lanky but definitely not a youth in the midst of a growth spurt. Her hands were bound in front of her with a rope so thick it made her wrists look impossibly frail.
“Do you have a name?”
The woman lifted her chin defiantly. “Not one I’ll share with you.”
Henriette smiled. “There’s no need to be rude. I merely wish to compliment you on your work.” She waved the notebook. “I assume this is how you bartered your passage on this ship. Many crews think women are bad luck at sea and refuse to have them on the boat. In my experience, women are only bad luck because men can’t be trusted to act like human beings when a woman is involved. I’m sure many of the men aboard this ship had other thoughts about how you could earn your place among them.”
“I never let a single one of them touch me.”
“There’d be no shame in it if you did. We’ve only been aboard for a matter of minutes and the crew has proven difficult to control. Sometimes the easiest way out of a tight situation is to surrender.”
“Never,” the woman insisted.
Henriette looked at the woman’s bound hands and saw the knuckles were bruised and marked with wounds both fresh and healed. She nodded slowly and opened the book again. “Then you’re obviously a good fighter in addition to having a keen eye and a talented hand. I could take this book from you, but I doubt it would do me a lick of good without someone to decipher it. One thing the Rib of Man lacks is a trustworthy sailing master. Our previous one fell afoul of a cannon ball.”
“You want to take me as your prisoner?”
“Of course not. How could you watch the sea and stars from the brig? I’m offering you a spot on my crew. You’d earn your keep by navigating, get your share of whatever we take from ships like this. Best part is, you’d be sailing with a crew well aware of the fact you’d earned your spot with your brain instead of lying on your back. Ofelia, tell her.”
Ofelia said, “Mostly women on the crew. Some men, not one of ‘em see a problem sharing the sea with us womenfolk. Captain Talmadge is fair and generous. Best captain I’ve ever sailed with.”
“The only captain you’ve ever sailed with,” Henriette acknowledged.
Ofelia grinned, showing her teeth. “Got lucky with my first, why would I risk trading down?”
“Good answer.” Henriette stepped closer to the prisoner and held out the book. “Take it. Like I said, it’s only useful to me if I have someone who can read the thing.”
The woman brought up both tied hands to take the book back. She looked like she wanted to say something, but her lips remained pressed together.
“By my reckoning, we’ll be aboard this ship until sundown.” Henriette looked at the horizon and tilted her head to the side. “Maybe just past. You have that long to decide. If you want to come with us, tell Caraveo and she’ll cut you free and bring you over with the rest of us. Or you can decide to stay. We don’t conscript people onto our ship.” She nodded to Ofelia. “Take her back below.”
She had turned back to face the sea when the prisoner spoke again. “Genevalisse.”
“What’s that?”
“My name. My friends call me Lisse.”
Henriette nodded. “You have a fine eye and a great talent, Lisse. I hope you decide to share it with someone who truly appreciates it.”
“If I agree to go with you now, do I have to go back below with the others?”
“I don’t see why you would.” She looked at Lisse again. “Are you acc
epting my offer, then?”
Lisse pursed her lips and rolled her shoulders. “I’ve never really liked captains who name their ships after women.”
Henriette’s smile was wide and genuine. She touched two fingers to the brim of her hat and sketched a salute. “I think we’ll get along fine, Genevalisse. Ofelia, cut her loose and help her pack up anything she wants to take with her. We’ll find her permanent quarters once we’re underway.”
“Of course, Captain,” Ofelia said.
“Glad to have you aboard, Sailing Master. Welcome to the Rib of Man.”
It was well after dark when her crew finished their inventory and began transferring goods to the Rib of Man. Henriette had ordered her cook to divvy up some bread from the Rebecca’s kitchen, since there was no sense in letting its people go hungry, and the remainder of their stores was packed and transferred to the Rib of Man’s galley. When Caraveo reported they were almost ready to leave, Henriette went below to speak with their captives once again. They were crammed into a single room, some men crouching against the walls while others were forced to sit on tabletops. Two of Henriette’s sailors were standing by the door with hands resting on their weapons.
“I would like to thank you all for your hospitality,” she said. “You will notice your ship is riding a little lighter than it was when the sun rose, but you’re still alive. So I would consider today a victory for us all. Oh, and your crew will be smaller as well. Genevalisse is coming with us. So hopefully one of you has the navigational skills to get back to a safe harbor. I would make that my priority rather than pursuing us. I wish you well and share your hope that we never cross paths again. Fair winds and following seas, gentlemen.”
They set sail again just after midnight. The Master Gunner kept a watch on the Rebecca for signs they intended to pursue, but no alarms were sounded and soon the victimized ship was out of sight. Henriette told Caraveo she could wait until morning to itemize what they’d taken, but the quartermaster insisted on doing it as soon as possible.
“My blood is still alive from all the excitement today. Sorting everything out will help calm me down enough to sleep.”
“And the crew will probably appreciate knowing how much they earned from this fight. Let me know the shares when you’re done. I’ll probably be awake most of the night.”
“Aye.” Caraveo started toward the hold.
“You did excellent work today, Felicitas.”
Caraveo saluted without turning around. “As did you, Captain. I was proud to be serving with you.”
Henriette grinned and continued her stroll. The moonlight was filtered through a thick and roiling wall of slate-gray fog, leaving them just enough light to sail by. Most of the crew seemed to have spent themselves aboard the Rebecca. Those who hadn’t made it back to their beds were strewn about the deck as if they were corpses. One man’s arm was flung over the rail with a bottle of rum dangling precariously from his limp fingers. She saved the bottle from certain doom and wiped the mouth of it on her blouse before taking a swig. Not the best stuff, but certainly passable. She toasted the fog for aiding their escape.
When she reached her quarters, she paused at the door. She took another drink and then held the bottle toward the shadows.
“Care for a sip?”
Lisse stepped forward into the moonlight. “How’d you know I was there?”
“A woman and the captain of a pirate ship. Being either of those things makes you wary of people lurking in the shadows. You start to get a sense for it.” She gestured with the bottle. “Go on. Consider it your first reward for signing on.”
The younger woman hesitated a moment longer, then came forward and took it from the captain. She took a big mouthful, bigger than she was used to judging by the way her eyes squeezed shut when she swallowed, and nodded her thanks.
Henriette pushed open the door of her quarters and gestured for Lisse to go in ahead of her. “I don’t suppose you were lurking here in the hopes of pinching my liquor. And I hope you’re not here to tell me you regret your decision to come with us.”
“No, not at all. From what I’ve seen so far, it seems clear I made the right choice.” Lisse entered the room cautiously and slid her gaze across the desk, to the bed. She paused when she saw the noose but kept her expression neutral. She clasped her hands behind her back and faced Henriette. “I suppose I just wanted to officially thank you for the offer to come aboard.”
“Wasn’t pity.” Henriette walked to her desk and perched on the edge of it. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You will be very useful to me. I don’t have a navigator worth a damn. That book of yours is truly remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it. If you can keep that up, you might become the most valuable member of this crew.”
It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but Lisse may have blushed at the praise. “Captain Molloy never seemed to care much about quality.”
“Molloy. The Captain of the Rebecca?”
“Yeah. Not the worst man, but...”
Henriette snorted. “People always say that like it’s a badge of honor. You don’t have to be the worst to still be plenty bad. I’ll make you a promise, Genevalisse. You keep this ship sailing straight and true, and your skills won’t ever be taken for granted. Do we have a bargain?”
Lisse said, “Sounds good to me, Captain Talmadge.” She tilted her head to look past Henriette at the window. The fog swirled against the glass. “Although you might have to wait until tomorrow night for a true accounting of my skills.”
Henriette laughed and looked at the floor. “Ah, yes, there are limits to even the most talented of us.” Her gaze swept up Lisse’s body, turned casually toward the bed, and finally drifted back to Lisse’s face. “Did Quartermaster Caraveo manage to find you a place to sleep tonight given the short notice?”
The invitation was impossible to miss, and this time Lisse definitely blushed. “She did. It’s a little space at the far end of the hold, but it’s a lateral move from what I had on the Rebecca. It’ll do nicely. For a little while, at least.”
“Good,” Henriette said. “Let me know if you ever desire something more comfortable. I’m sure we can find something for you.”
Lisse bit her bottom lip. Henriette was certain the girl was considering the offer. “Thank you. It’s nice knowing how, ah, amenable this ship can be.”
Henriette raised an eyebrow. “You have no idea. Sleep well, Lisse. Tomorrow may be your first day aboard the ship, but you’ll still be a full member of the crew. You’ll be pulling your weight one way or another. Might have to put you in the galley if this fog doesn’t lift.”
“You might rethink that once you taste my stew.”
“Maybe so. But we’ll keep you busy.”
Lisse nodded. She held out the bottle, but Henriette waved it off. “Enjoy the rest of it.” Lisse went to the door but Henriette stopped her. “Did you hear my speech about the name of this vessel?”
“Rib of Man,” Lisse said. “The origin of women. A violent birth. A weapon.”
“Mm-hmm.” She stood and closed the distance between them. She put her hand against Lisse’s torso, just below her breast, and pressed gently through her shirt. “The ribs are also protection: a shield that is always with you, protecting your most vital organ, your heart. The brain might be good for strategy and the gut is superb for warning you of danger, but the heart is what truly guides a person. That is what this ship represents.”
Lisse held eye contact as she put her hand on top of Henriette’s. “Then I would say I’ve definitely found myself on the right ship.” Her touch lingered until Henriette’s hand became warm, and then the girl smiled and stepped away. “Pleasant dreams, Captain. You’ve earned it. I don’t know exactly what the Rebecca was carrying, but I’m certain you came away with quite a treasure.”
“More treasure than I expected,” Henriette muttered once the other woman was gone. She rubbed her thumb against her fingertips, imagining she could still feel the material of Li
sse’s blouse under them, and went to her private stash to get a bottle of the best rum. It suddenly didn’t matter much what Caraveo reported about their haul. The coin and liquor and whatever other bounty they made off with would be nice, but she had a feeling the true treasure wasn’t down below.
Genevalisse was likely to prove her wealth in ways Henriette couldn’t even fathom, and she could hardly wait to begin exploring.
A Smuggler’s Pact
By Su Haddrell
* * *
From the brow of the Starling, Maeve watched her crew loot the beaten schooner. The vessel sat low in the water, its torn sails flicking listlessly. It had the air of a fighter at the end of a bout, barely able to stand, the splinters in its mast like cuts drawn across its skin.
Captain Stuart appeared by her side and she wrinkled her nose. He stank of blood and sweat and the four-day drinking binge he’d returned from just in time to take the merchant ship. They had intended to re-purpose and rename the schooner, but the battle hadn’t gone as cleanly as Stuart had planned. The Starling had sailed in close and her carronades had torn through most of the other vessel’s hull while her guns had reduced the sails to shreds. Now it would cost more to repair the damn thing than it would to just dismantle it and use it for parts. Maeve ran a hand through her mop of dark hair and then retied her bandanna.
“A worthwhile battle!” said her captain, grinning with the thrill of it. Maeve scowled.
“We could have taken them with less aggression, sir. That pretty thing would have been a useful addition to the fleet. Now all we’ve got is a crew of dead merchants, a dozen guns and whatever they got stored in the hull. Not exactly profitable.”
“Well, the men were itching for a fight,” Captain Stuart said. “Least we didn’t lose any of them and we’ll still have plenty to trade at the port with a couple of good manifests to show off to the officials. All-in-all, a good days work!” He clapped her on the back but Maeve didn’t react. The captain sighed.
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