The Noble Pirates (6 page)

With the pirates back in control of the Bahamas, Vane proceeded to terrorize the seas, wreaking havoc on commerce to the islands. He was especially cruel to those he deemed disloyal to the pirates: the merchant-smugglers who had “kissed arse” the moment they’d seen the British flag. England, who had been Vane’s quartermaster at the time, tried talking him out of his cruel treatment of their prey, but found himself overruled by the crew on most occasions.

I wrapped my arms tightly around my waist, captivated by England’s story. “What kind of… treatment are we talking about here?” I asked, morbidly curious.

“Nothing the likes of ye should ever know about, lass,” England replied, his jaw clenched. This was clearly a point of contention for him.

“Tell me,” I insisted. “I may have a weak stomach, but I’m not weak. I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”

He looked at me then, his upper lip curled over his teeth in a snarl. “Ye want to know? Ye want to hear about how the poor sons of bitches were tied to the bowsprit with burning matches in their eyelids? How if they didn’t reveal the location of hidden booty, they got their eyeballs burned out and then shot in the face?”

I winced, tightening my arms around myself. “I’ve heard worse,” I said meekly. This Vane guy sounded like a load of fun. The life of the party. I had never been less enthused to meet anyone in my life. Then I looked sharply at England. “Why are you siding with him, a man like this? You’re not brutal.”

He looked back at me, surprised and amused. “Am I not?”

I was adamant. “No, you’re not. If a brutal man finds a strange, raving woman floating in the sea, he has his way with her, passes her on to the crew, and then dumps her off somewhere or kills her. He does not protect her at the risk of his own safety. Am I right?”

England was silent for a moment as we walked, taking our time. He seemed to be enjoying my company, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying his. He was easy to talk to, and had a streak of goodness that couldn’t be denied, pirate or no pirate. “Sabrina,” he said, uttering my name for the first time, “I’m on the account. A pirate. I’m no hero – I’m an outlaw, a thief. I have my reasons, and they have little to do with enjoying mayhem, to be sure, but…” He sighed. “I must deal with those who do.”

I watched my shoes peek out from under my skirts as I walked. “What are your reasons?”

He stopped, turning to look at me. “What do ye know about the politics of the world in 1718? Do ye learn about these things in 2011?” I could see traces of skepticism in his eyes – he didn’t truly believe I was from a different era, but since he couldn’t make sense of me otherwise, he was going with it.

I winced. “Well… We’re supposed to learn about these things… And at one time I knew enough to pass a test, but… I can’t say that I know about 1718 politics.”

So England summarized it for me, telling me about James Stuart, the heir to the throne who was denied on account of his being Catholic; the German prince, George I who took his place because he was Protestant, even though he spoke very little English; and the Stuart attempts at religious tolerance.

I scratched my head, embarrassed by my lack of knowledge on the subject. What I wouldn’t have given to be able to Google the terms “Jacobite” and “James Stuart.” I needed me some Wikipedia. “So,” I said, “your reasons for being a pirate are political?”

The fire returned to his eyes as he replied, “That’s only part of it. It’s an entire system that needs changing. There’s a good reason why poor seamen and escaped slaves turn to piracy. It’s because under the pirate flag, we are all equals, and any man can achieve a captain’s status with cleverness and skill. Not to mention riches and – most importantly – freedom.” He caught the surprise in my expression and smiled. “Aye, lass. We’re not all of us merely cutthroats and drunks, despite what ye hear.”

“So… you’re for… democracy?” I asked.

He tilted his head. “I know not how you use the word, but I believe in equality and freedom.”

I smiled. “Even for blacks and women?”

He grinned back. “Are ye trying to get me used for musket practice, lass?”

We continued to walk as I bit my lip, deep in thought. Edward England was something of an enlightened man. Without thinking, I blurted out what I did know about history, what had impacted me enough to make me want to go to law school: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

England looked at me, that expression – the one I still had a hard time placing – on his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Aye, that’s the gist of it.”

I felt a stab of sadness at the realization that Edward England would probably be long dead before Thomas Jefferson would conceive of the words in 1776. Fifty-some odd years from now. I’d be dead too, if I didn’t get out of here. Out of here – 1718. If it were true, if I truly had somehow time traveled during the storm, via some time portal in the sea, what were the consequences of my being here? How much of the future should I reveal to England? Could I change history by revealing too much? Too little? I felt the now-familiar panic rising, and I shut my eyes, forcing myself to focus on the moment. I could think about all these things later. Right now, I had to think about meeting Charles Vane, not to mention other possibly unsavory characters. Once again in control, I asked, “Does Vane believe the same things you do?”

He shrugged. “I doubt Charlie Vane’s thoughts go far past his own self-preservation. But he’s been chosen as a leader by the men here, and I’ve no choice but to follow.”

“You’d never consider accepting the King’s pardon?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nay. A pirate I am, and a pirate I will be for the rest of my days.”

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me
… I couldn’t help but smile. I had no idea where that was from or what the rest of the words were, but I was fairly certain they said something about plundering and looting, and villains and scoundrels… ‘Yo ho’ indeed. The song had clearly not considered pirates such as England, the political and social dissidents.

Chapter Seven

  Far too quickly, we found ourselves standing beneath a canvas tarpaulin, surrounded by extravagantly-dressed men who were sitting on stools around tables and casks, drinking and smoking. Women, their faces painted and powdered with a heavy hand, pranced between the men, refilling mugs and cups and goblets, swinging their hips as they walked. Funny, how I knew I was in a pub without being told. Some things, apparently, do not change with time. The raw smell of unwashed bodies wafted at me with the breeze, and I found that, slowly, I was becoming used to it. While it still had the potential to knock me senseless, I had stopped gagging every time I smelled it.

  One man in particular seemed to be the focal point, as all bodies were partially turned toward him. He, like many of the others, was adorned with every imaginable luxurious cloth and embellishment: a scarlet broadcloth coat, a cravat of silver lace, a flowered velvet sash, fine black hose and shiny buckled shoes. Everywhere I looked, I saw Persian silk ruffles and taffeta and gold buttons… It was as though they had all these gentlemen’s clothes, but no real occasion to wear them. All dressed up with nowhere to go. For a second I felt, again, as though I were on a movie set, as though this was just one big game. That feeling quickly dissipated as the men began to turn and look at us, their eyes curious and – when looking at me – rapacious. I knew to be afraid of that look. Nothing like hanging out with eighteenth century prostitutes to make a woman feel gorgeous, let me tell you. If a pirate here decided he wanted me, there was no one but England to stop him. The pirates were the law in Nassau – for now, at least. England’s esteem among his peers, and then his own skill and strength as a fighter, were the only two things I had going for me.

The man at the center of all the attention wore a large cocked hat with a feather plume on top of his wig, and he sat back leisurely, leaning against a cask, swinging a fine gold watch on a chain from his forefinger. He looked up at England from across the outdoor pub and nodded acknowledgment at him, smiling slightly. Then his dark eyes shifted to me and stayed there as he continued to swing his delicately engraved pocket watch. Kat suddenly materialized next to him, wrapping an arm across his chest and nuzzling his ear, but he brushed her away, his eyes never leaving me. I looked at England, but if he felt anger or betrayal, he showed none of it.

Charles Vane caught the watch in the palm of his hand and signaled to England. England put his hand on the small of my back, encouraging me forward with him. Oh, no. I wasn’t ready for this. What would I say? How was I supposed to behave? I looked to England, panicked, and heard him mumble under his breath, “Let me do the talking, lass. Just sit and look yer pretty self.”

All eyes were on us as we sat with Vane and his companions. Vane smiled at me, saying, “Well, Edward, what have we here? Lovely, simply lovely.” A London dialect, and I knew enough to guess he wasn’t ‘upper class.’

England’s hand moved up to my shoulder, then to the nape of my neck. “Sabrina. We found her afloat, and she has no memory of what happened to her.” He shrugged and smiled, as if that explained everything. The absurdity of the situation struck me – here I was, an Ivy League educated attorney, barely a year shy of making partner, and I was being treated like a piece of meat, like a prostitute from the London gutters who couldn’t speak for herself. I felt the rage surge through my veins, the hot blood boiling. England must have sensed it too, because he gently but firmly pressed at my skin. It was just enough to startle me from my fury.

Vane was still smiling, but his eyes went cold. “That’s not what I hear,” he said. “I hear she’s a mad one, saying she’s from the future and dancing in the rain.”

England laughed. “And who would have told ye that?” He looked meaningfully at Kat, who was pretending to chat with the other women. “Ye’re not taking the word of a faithless baggage, are ye, Charlie?”

Vane grinned wolfishly, the shadow of a goatee darkening the skin around his mouth. I could see the cunning ruthlessness in that hawkish face. He relaxed a bit, leaning back against the cask once more and setting that damn watch swinging again. “No, Eddie, course not. And if you fancy her – “

“Aye,” England said loudly, firmly, his fingers tight on the back of my neck. “That I do.”

Vane’s eyes flickered from me to England, assessing us carefully. “What is she, then? For all the world, she looks to have exotic blood in her.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but England was quicker, his fingers pressing again. “Possibly. I think she may have fallen from a trader bound for Jamestown. It matters little, in the end, since she’s happy here, with me.” Again, that possessive tone. I suddenly felt the need to show some sort of affection to England, to play my part, so I leaned toward him, smiling, and wrapped my arms around one of his. I felt him shudder slightly. “And now, we must discuss more pertinent matters,” he continued. “What of Blackbeard?”

Blackbeard! I knew that name. He was a famous pirate. As I was trying to remember what it was I knew about Blackbeard – which, incidentally, was nothing – Vane growled, “Fuck Blackbeard! He’s in bed with the governor of North Carolina. He’s made his choice, and he’s not coming back. He knows Nassau is doomed.” Vane took a swig from his mug, the dark liquid trickling down his chin, which he wiped with the back of his hand.

England took a deep breath and nodded, removing his hand from my neck. He examined his knuckles absently. “Then we’re ready to fly?”

Vane nodded slowly, clearly put out by the situation. He looked like he was getting quite drunk, and his eyelids drooped slightly. “That son of a whore Rogers will be here in a fortnight, I wager. That’ll give us a bit more time to load the cannons onto the
Ranger
and make sure we’re ready for the voyage to Brazil.”

I blinked. Brazil?

“We’ll not leave without a fight, damn both Woodes Rogers and King George to bloody hell!” We looked up at the slurring speaker, a rosy-cheeked man in bright, flashy clothes, his arm around a giggling woman, a bottle in his hand. He looked a lot like a guy I dated in college, a lacrosse player who spent all of his free time playing video games and all of our dates talking about how he wanted to be a fighter pilot. A real winner, as you can imagine. With the devil-may-care attitude and flower-print shirt, this pirate would have been right at home on a booze cruise in 2011. Until, of course, he killed someone.

I leaned toward England and whispered, “Who’s that?”

England replied, “Calico Jack Rackam.” He watched as my face lit with recognition. Calico Jack! Another name I’d heard before. This place was a veritable who’s who of piracy. A smile slowly spread across England’s face as he mumbled, “Made it into the history books, did he? Hmph. I wonder why?”

Calico Jack swayed a bit as his eyes tried to focus on me, and I observed that he wasn’t a bad looking guy. As I was assessing Jack Rackam and he stood trying to assess me, England pushed a bowl of zesty-smelling food before me. “Eat,” he ordered, his voice low, his breath on my ear. “I’ve watched ye bring up every blessed thing ye’ve eaten in the past couple days. Ye need to eat and keep it down.”

I smiled at him and murmured, “Thanks, Dad.” I then inspected the bowl in front of me: it looked like a bowl of salad toppings. I recognized pieces of meat (probably turtle), fish, and crab; they were garnished with hearts of palm, hard-boiled eggs, and a variety of pickled shrubbery. I smelled garlic and spice and wine, and despite my reluctance, my stomach growled loudly. I glanced around furtively for utensils and noticed that everyone else was using their hands. Fine then. I dug in, scooping up the strange mix with my fingers and slopping it into my mouth. Oh shit, that was spicy.