1- Ophelia
I live in a town surrounded almost entirely by water. An outcrop of land that forms a bay on one side and open, salty seas on the other. With thunderous waves that berate the rocky shoreline and a horizon teeming with pirates, the water here is a thing to fear. So my ancestors built a fortress of stone to encapsulate the town and train the king’s very best naval officers. Fishermen in dinghies and men on naval ships are all that are permitted to voyage onto open waters.
As a woman, it is unthinkable to board a ship here. Perhaps in some warmer climate, where the water is softer and clear and edges up onto sandy beaches, but here the prow of a ship is the first shot of war. Each wail of the tide a foreboding battle cry.
Luckily tonight, the sky is open and starry and the waters of Herrin's Bay are calm. It is the weather alone that convinced Frederick to lend me his clothes. Despite his being nearly five years my junior, his clothes hang a bit loosely over my bony frame.
“Stop fidgeting with your coat, Ophelia,” Frederick warns me. “You’ll give yourself away.” I quickly tuck a fallen strand of red hair back under my hat and pull my shoulders back, mimicking my brother’s posture.
“You must relax,” he laughs at me. “What has you so nervous this time?” Frederick rolls on the balls of his feet, a childish habit I did my best to break him of.
“I’ve not been on a boat in ages, Freddy.” I scowl at him. “Not since I was a girl. Dressing as a boy to join a fencing class or something is pretty far from dressing as a boy to risk my life.” I nod as masculinely as I can at a passing longshoreman, who ignores me.
“You are hardly risking your life, Phee,” he says jokingly, though his expression becomes solemn. “I appreciate you coming with me. The last thing I want to do is spend my fifteenth birthday away from the person who practically raised me.”
Tonight holds a melancholy weight. Fifteen means Frederick is leaving behind his childhood. Tomorrow, he leaves us to pursue his higher education. Tonight should be celebrated among family.
“Father will join us when we dock again,” I assure him. “He would not miss this.”
“I wish Mother was here.” He mutters softly.
I wish she was here too.
“What? Is your cross-dressing sister not enough for you?” I elbow him in the side and he laughs, shoving me with his shoulder.
“You always were more like a brother to me,” he jokes and I elbow him harder.
A large swell in the water suddenly disrupts the boat and I tense, grabbing the railing in front of us. Frederick pats my white-knuckled hand gently. “Come, we should almost be in position for the fireworks.” I follow him to the helm and watch the festivities go on on the main deck. Men dance and slam mugs of ale together, the sound of flutes and pipes filling the brisk air.
As the marquess’ son, Frederick’s fifteenth birthday is a public celebration. He will leave Herrin's Bay a boy and come back ready to lead and protect our livelihoods. Gazing towards the shoreline, I can see the fires lit along the coast as the town dances. They are the only light bleeding into the darkness. Even the moon is dark tonight and the stars too distant to reflect off the rippling water.
“To Frederick Sullivan Warwick the Third!” A cheer arises from the crowd, and all hands raise with ale sloshing. The men’s voices ring together in a tenor throng as the first fireworks are set alight. The men silence, listening to the hiss of the wicks and the whistle as the cylinders shoot off. And then they erupt into a spray of greens and reds and blues, inviting the men’s cheers out again.
Frederick’s eyes gleam with delight at the blinding display. One of the men stumbles up the stairs and hands us each a mug of ale, though the man’s breath smells of something stronger. A good night to break into the whiskey, I suppose.
“Happy birthday, Freddy!” I shout at my beloved little brother, banging my cup against his.
“Thanks, Phee.” He takes a hearty gulp of his drink and wipes his mouth on his sleeve, another habit I’d tried to break him of. I readily ignore the slight infraction and take my own gulp, but another swell of the water hits the boat and I end up pouring half my drink over my coat. I mutter a curse and Frederick smiles amusedly.
“So lady-like.”
I prepare to retort when something thuds the boat. My eyes shoot up to meet Frederick’s and his are widened with the same surprise. The more sober men below grow quiet and peer into the darkness around us.
Silence.
I glance back towards shore, but most of the fires there seem to be blocked by something. It’s moving, obscuring one fire and revealing another as it glides slowly past. A faint silhouette draws out the shape of sails as another thud resonates through the boat. A plank of wood hitting the railing of our starboard side and resting there, and then another and another.
The cold feeling of dread washes over me.
Pirates.
“Pirates!” I shout from the helm. Most of the men seem bewildered and drunk. “Shit. Pirates! We’re under attack!” I scream out again, leaning far over the rail of the helm. The meaning of my words slowly grips them and they stumble into defense positions.
“At arms men!” The captain orders, emerging hastily from his cabin. He opens his mouth to give another command when a shot rings out from the darkness and the captain suddenly tumbles down the curved stairs to the main deck, a bleeding hole in his forehead. The men shout in horror, but their cries are overpowered by the roar of the men stampeding across the boards toward them.
I look at Frederick, who stood only a foot away from the captain, and see the panic set in. He is frozen. Without a thought, I grab his wrist and jerk him towards the captain’s cabin forcing him through the door. I deadbolt it behind us and begin to pace frantically.
“What do I do? What do I do?” I mutter to myself tapping my lip violently with my thumbnail. A scream and a crash echo through the door, feeding my fear. The cacophony of blades clanging and guns firing fogs my brain and I can’t think straight.
“Weapons,” I sputter, drawing Frederick’s attention to me. “We need a weapon.” I rush to the captain’s desk and frantically pull out drawers. “There has to be something here!” I yank all his papers out, which scatter around the floor, and find a dagger underneath. Frederick jumps to the wall where a saber hangs on display and yanks it down.
I would have preferred a gun, but a blade is better than nothing.
A heavy bang shakes the wooden door, making me jump. I look around desperately for an escape, but the windows lead only to freezing, black water and there is no other door besides the one being splintered by a hammering of fists.
“Warwick!” A deep, growling voice calls. “You can only hide for so long.” A leaden thud cracks the wood followed by the scurrying of boot-clad feet away from the door. The low voice barks a few commands but all I hear is “He’s mine.” Another hit and the door begins to splinter, allowing me a peak of the brutish man behind it.
“Quick, Freddy,” I wave him towards me and pull us against the wall beside the door where the pirate can’t see us. “As soon as this door opens, I am going to stab him and you run. Get to the lifeboat,” I instruct in a rushed whisper. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“What?” he hisses. “I can’t do that. I can’t leave you!”
“Shh!” I flap my hand tensely in front of his mouth. “You don’t have a choice. I will be right behind you, I promise.” Finally, Frederick gives one terse nod in agreement. I wait a moment, until I am sure of the pattern of the bangs. Just as one bang ends I pull the deadlock out, so when the next bang arrives, the door flies open and the pirate stumbles in ever so slightly. Without a flicker of hesitation I rush him, burying my dagger into his abdomen. The man curls in and growls in pain.
“Run!” I cry over my shoulder. “Run, Freddy! Run!” He dashes out and I whirl around to follow him, but the man recovers too quickly and knocks me to the ground. I groan as my shoulder slams against the door frame.
“You bloody knave.” He looms over me, tugging the dagger from his side and hurling it against the wall. His frigid blue eyes simmer. “You’ll pay with your life for that one, boy.” He pulls a gun from his coat and takes aim, pulling the hammer back until it clicks. His finger hovers over the trigger and his smile grows as he watches the hopelessness overcome me. But then the smile fades as a lingering shout cascades into the room followed by Frederick, waving the saber like a madman.
The pirate is distracted for only a second, but it is enough time for me to grab a fallen book and whip it at the brute, jump to my feet and barrel out of the office with Frederick on my tail. I hear the gun go off but I do not dare turn around.
We race around men in combat and over the fallen, our shoes painted with blood and occasionally slipping over the smoothed wood. On the port side, the two lifeboats still hang securely. No one has attempted an escape.
Maybe the effort would be futile.
“Get in!” I shout at Frederick, fumbling with the knots that secure our get-away. The pirate is fast-approaching, his face red with fury, his eyes burning with hatred. Frederick slips on a puddle of blood, falling flat on the ground.
One knot loosens and the boat tilts precariously towards the sea. “Freddy!” I cry for him as he fumbles back to his feet, but a gunshot makes him freeze again and I see the blood seep through the white coat at his shoulder.
The pirate is a single step behind him.
Frederick lunges forward and shoves me overboard before swinging the saber and cutting the last rope holding the lifeboat. I plunge into the black water, the cold shocking the air from my lungs.
Instinct drives me to the surface and I gasp for air once I reach it. The lifeboat begins to drift quickly away from me.
I can hardly maintain the recollection for how to swim, but my legs kick with the distant memory of my childhood, pushing me towards safety. My hands catch a rope drifting back from the boat and I am able to pull it back to me and hoist myself in.
Frederick is not in it.
I turn back to the boat and see that horrid man holding the limp body of my brother up by the collar. A fire has erupted behind them, casting the sea in an orange, rippled glow. The man’s eyes bore into mine and I think I see a glimmer of surprise in them. I pull my hair away from my face and realize that’s what has shocked him. My hat was lost to the sea and it is clear now that I am a woman.
I place the oars and begin heaving the dinghy away from the burning ship. In the light of the inferno, I see him smirk at me, but he does not give chase.
He simply turns away, throwing my brother’s body over his shoulder, shouting orders at his crew before walking out of my line of sight.
Minutes later, the ship explodes, sending pieces of bodies and flaming wood into the sky to rain down on me and the waves. The fins of sharks begin to disrupt the surface as they pull limbs into the depths with them.
In the distance, I can see a disruption of the starry night as black sails glide by, but apart from that, the ship is invisible in the dark night.
A ghost ship, as far as the town’s fishermen are concerned. Silent and formidable.
The Phantom.
The captain is a demon in his own right. A plague on the seas. Captain Bardot.
And he has my brother.
