Dual Tide

Preface.

London 1782.

HMS Horticulture. Under Captain Mannard. 28 guns and 112 souls; sailing with pride to new lands.

The mismatched crew of gentlemen, privateers, mariners and soldiers vied for a position on the main deck of HMS Horticulture. Captain Mannard stood regal on the quarterdeck, his grizzled, grey-bearded Commander and boatswains surrounding him. The greying captain tucked his bicorn hat under his arm and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentleman,” he began spluttering poshly. “With pride, we sail for the Terra Australis. Our mission is to categorise and log as many new species in the name of science and trial as much of our cargo of modern agricultural material and methods as we possibly can,” he chortled blandly. Only from amongst the gentry, did he receive any kind of gratification.

Towards the bow of the ship lolling over barrels and leaning against masts were the privateers. Before them the botanists, agriculturists, soldiers and colonists were wrapped up in Captain Mannard’s uninspired drivel. Flanked by mariners, he was clumsily attempting to incite some ideals of adventure into the expedition.

Redbeard, a mere privateer; stared out towards the river Thames. The lumpy flow of greasy water slurped and sloshed under a sky smeared with skidding rain clouds. “Hmph,” Was all he said scratching at his jawline, upon which grew a thicket of curled ginger hair, two finger widths in length all over. Turning back from the gloomy sights of the docks of London, Redbeard’s clear, blue and lucid eyes met those of nearby crew mates. His gaze passed over the faces of three nearby scoundrels and his sharp ears picked up their conversation. The woman was saying to two seedy looking crew mates, “I say we jump off and get our own letters,” she said with a smirk on her face and a breathy laugh that made Redbeard cringe. Likewise, her two companions shrunk back at the idea, shooting sidewards glances towards Mannard and his stern looking officers. Redbeard sidled up to their barrel and took an elbow. “It’s not Mannard you should worry about,” Redbeard drawled, fingering the barrel’s lip. The three privateers whipped their heads around like slighted meerkats.

“What are you talking about?” The dusky woman snapped, her two cronies shrinking even further into themselves. “Commander Greymane of course. Have you ever seen a man break someones neck with one hand?” Redbeard chuckled. His chuckle escalated to laughter, and the cronies, perturbed, bled away into the rest of the crew. The woman glared first at her former conspirators and then at Redbeard. “How would you know anything about Greymane?” she snarled, with no real malice. Her gaze was withering, as a privateer, in the tidy white shirt and Brown coat they all wore, scampered up to Redbeard. “Boatswain?” he panted. “Yes, yes, prepare to cast off,” Redbeard waved dismissively, turning back to the woman. She blanched, looking Redbeard up and down. “What? An unassuming, bandy legged, scruffy little man? A Boatswain?” and she pouted, tilting her demure nose skyward. Redbeard just looked her up and down smilingly. She was not unattractive to him. Luxuriously shiny, dark straight hair framed an inquiring oval face. Her pointed chin and moulded cheeks almost bore her the look of a French court floozy, but under that elegant and expressive brow, two eyes of piercing obsidian burnt with an untamed wanderlust.

Just her proximity to him was enough to give him a boon. Her wildness excited Redbeard, despite her gaze of disdain. “I suppose you’re going to give me the lash?” the brooding woman huffed. “I’m no quartermaster woman. I should give you the lash merely for that bland company you’ve been keeping,”he said, thumbing towards the crowd that had absorbed the couple of mutineers. “I’m interested in what you’re saying though,” Redbeard explained, leaning down on the barrel with relaxed assurance. She arched an eyebrow and appraised this roguish officer. He was not vast, as were many fighting men at sea, but he was sure and his surety lent him strength and grace. The dishevelled boatswain traced a calloused finger around a hole in the barrel, both pointer fingers were stained with pistol smoke. Ambidextrous, she thought and a fleeting smile passed over her shell pink lips. A ridiculous red beard of wiry copper hairs, curling at all angles softened his harshly furrowed brow and sad eyes. He raised those sad blue wells from his scratching at the barrel and looked straight into her eyes. Despite being as soft and blue as faded corn flowers, those eyes made her shiver from their gaze. She could speak no more, and she could not meet that gaze, despite their brief association.

“Well… I think you’re just the person I’ve been looking for,” she mumbled, staring at pointy toed boots that shuffled on the deck of the ’Horticulture.’ Redbeard looked to the black leather and up to where the boots met her hose well above the knee. He examined the hilt of her sword as it grazed her thigh. Then he looked up to be met with a furrowed brow and stormy gaze. “What do they call you?” Redbeard asked unperturbed. “Blackheart. They have always called me by that name!” The dusky swashbuckler huffed with derision.’ Iceheart’ Redbeard jested to himself, with a barely concealed guffaw. “Redbeard,” he offered cautiously, extending a calloused hand. “Of course you are,” And she rolled her eyes.As her hand slipped into his, he could feel her pulse racing, and a cool sweat coated her palm. Redbeard’s heart quickened and he almost panted with exertion. Her touch was explosive. Both sailors warmed with a smile and drew themselves up. “I’ve been keeping my eye on a ship,” Blackheart offered. “I’m going to be a captain,” She added with a gleam in her dark eyes. Redbeard believed her, such was her conviction in the telling of it.

***

The pair of eclectic sailors, coats whipping in the wind, stood dockside, staring up at the black hulled frigate. At a glance, one could say she’d seen better days. The rigging was a mismatch of rope, canvases had obviously been patched, some portholes were cracked and black paint peeled back in great sluffs. “The hull sits high and even,” Blackheart pointed out to her colleague. “Aye, structurally she looks sleek, stiff and weatherly,” Redbeard smiled nodding. At this, Blackheart beamed a smile at him. “I knew you’d like her!” Blackheart continued. “I do,” Redbeard mused. He was barely a sailor and did not ordinarily dwell on the sleek lines of a ship, but this dark bird that looked like she’d skim along the ocean at speed excited him.

Blackheart ran her hand over the oak planks of the ship. She continued beaming at her shipmate Redbeard. He flashed a dumb grin, not knowing exactly what she had in mind and it prickled his skin. She leapt lithely up on deck and he hauled himself after her. “Captain Blackheart?” Redbeard chuckled teasingly leaping the ships rail with practised ease. Blackheart merely turned and looked reverently at this intimation, nodding with satisfaction at Redbeard’s apparent seamanship. “Well, old George is really handing out the letters of marque these days, to anyone that can sail or fight,” Blackheart explained, rubbing at some invisible or imagined stain on the step of the quarterdeck. “He’s practically at odds with everyone, the French, the Spaniards, the Dutch…” she continued rubbing, turning to look at Redbeard, who nodded sagely, a wry smile turning the corners of his lips as he absentmindedly toyed with the hilt of his sword. “And pirates…” he said distractedly. Blackhearts visage snapped up to meet his waking gaze and their eyes met as they rarely did. Excitement flowed between and within them in that look. “A means to an end,” She answered his unspoken question.

The dusky privateer spun on her heels and ran her hand along a rail, she strode several paces seemingly deep in thought; mouth pursed tightly, finger tapping her smooth cheek. “Now all we need is a crew to sail her!” she exclaimed suddenly, adventure awakening inside. Redbeard watched her lean curves under the long coat and tempered his mouth with ships jargon. “A quartermaster would be a good start,” he said warily. In one fluid movement, the beautiful woman spun and pointed a delicate pistol finger directly at him. Redbeard’s heart rose in his chest. That same barrel chest he puffed outwards as a gale wind whipped his blue coat about him dramatically. A laughing Blackheart leapt up to the quarterdeck. Redbeard followed at a trot and watched as his Captain tugged at the wheel. “You can fight, you can sail, you’re commanding and you barely annoy me,” She punctuated his promotion, calling hoarsely over the winds. “Barely?” Redbeard whined in bewilderment, but pursed his lips quickly considering her barrage of compliments.

“This fine vessel’s name?” he instead asked her as a distraction. While her eyes lit up, a darkness passed behind them. A mischief unlike he had ever seen in a woman before. Her smile was impish as she glanced out to the choppy waters. “Capricious,” Part One.

Balearic Sea 1788.

Dread ship ’Capricious.’ Under Captain Blackheart. 30 guns and 150 souls; sailing for mischief.

Captain Blackheart rested a hand upon the wheel. One would expect that a captain by such a name would be impressively large of stature and broad of shoulder. A bristling black beard on a terribly ferocious face. This particular Captain Blackheart however, was demure of stature. An elegant hand stained with pistol smoke draped the ship’s wheel. Long, straight, dark hair waved in the wind with spirited abandon. Ferocity was not her herald, but mischief certainly was. Ebony eyes flecked with gold and tinted with mystery sparkled wickedly, soft lips curled back exposing a glistening grin that uttered devilish trouble to all who knew it… or crossed it. Subtle strength rippled through her body as she tugged the wheel of the dread ship ’Capricious.’

“Quartermaster! To the helm!” she bellowed with impressive might and ferocity. Within the minute, a husky bearded fellow clambered up the stair to the ship’s helm. “Captain?” he exclaimed breathlessly. The fellow was only barely taller than her, a tanned complexion and a fit of dark hair bred a scruffy look. He was not sculpted in muscle, but certainly possessed a strength earned by hard labour and a ship’s life. His blue eyes, a weapon unto themselves, pierced deeply into her own dark ones. Their gaze was unavoidable. “We’re gaining fast on the enemy, prepare the men for battle,” Blackheart offered administratively, subtly letting her eyes linger in his. Rather than shrink from her commands, the quartermaster merely tossed his head back nonchalantly. “Orders for our gunners?” he huffed. In response, Blackheart was more amused than angered. “Two full broadsides, double rum rations to the team that destroys their mast,” Blackheart grunted as the quartermaster scratched at his short gingery red beard, for which he was aptly named ’Redbeard.’ “Captain, we’ll barely have time to reload for a full broadside, it will have to be a second pass. Might I suggest one broadside, with the top deck firing grapeshot to thin their numbers and the bottom deck on solid shot, directly at their gun deck,” And when he muttered the final sentence, he looked up to see Blackheart, both frowning and pouting. “Captain?” he sighed. “Do what you want then!” she iterated, fuming darkly. Around them pirates scampered about the deck and clambered up and down rigging like circus performers. For the ’Capricious’ crew may have been an untidy lot, but their abilities as a unit-both at arms and on the sea- was almost unmatched by any other pirate crew… almost.Looking slightly defeated, Redbeard entered the hatch and skirted towards their own gun decks.

He issued the gunnery orders and among many of that fierce crew was a man that looked upwards to the quarterdeck, where the vicious Blackheart stood guiding the ‘Capricious’ to certain danger. “Oh yes men, she is feeling very fierce indeed!” Redbeard intoned. Some faces drained of colour, for all knew that Blackheart sought the enemies blood quickly. “We’ll be boarding after that single salvo. So be ready, you’ll not have to fear my wrath- but Blackheart will skin you alive if you’re not grappling their rail with two guns and a blade,” Redbeard continued. “The Captain’s offered double rum for the team to knock out the main mast, but I’ll be offering triple if we come out alive,” And as the words left his lips the pirates cheered and raced into position, hauling cannons into place and stuffing them full of their deadly ammunition.

Blackheart’s eyes had remained transfixed upon her target. They had skulked out of harbour early one morning as her own Dread ship skulked in. She and Redbeard had recognised the ship immediately and set the course to her tail. It was then that the enemy in realisation struck his colours and ran. A fight was inevitable, as the ’Capricious’ was a superior ship on the open sea, but the outcome of a pitched battle? Blackheart was unsure.

Their quarry was a privateer under Prussian colours. Where the Dutchman came from, no-one was sure; what was certain however was that he had not stopped terrorising the coasts of Europe since he had been given his letters of marque from King George. The Captain of this frigate had plundered French, Spanish and Dutch ships, all of whom were at war with Great Britain. While many privateers engaged their targets, with the courtesies becoming a gentleman at war. This particular privateer however, had taken it upon himself to murder entire crews and had sunk dozens of frigates caught by way of ambush.

Blackheart’s ways were those of robbery yes, but also of mercy. The ’Capricious’ was known to sail swiftly by the dead of night or in deep fog to board wealthy merchant vessels and depart with silver and gold, without a shot fired. Rarely had her crew had to show aggression, though at times they fended off privateers and pirates alike, which had seasoned them in the ways of ocean warfare.

The north wind blew, whipping her salty hair into her face and the long coat billowed, flapping loudly in the gale. The mischievous captain was already armed for the occasion, her two pistols were in the brace crossing her chest and her rapier was at her side. Inch by inch she spurred the ’Capricious’ onwards, until the enemy’s first cannon shot erupted and splashed harmlessly ahead of them. Fear did not cross her face, only a wicked grin, and the flash of trouble in her eyes burned even more intensely. “Fourteen knots!” came boatswain Baldwin’s growl and he offered a wild smile, hanging off the chains and swinging the lead. Baldwin was the first recruit Blackheart and Redbeard had signed up and the burly American made a skilled officer proficient in sounding and other navigational duties. An expert sailor and fierce fighter, the rumours were that Baldwin had been an officer for the United States army in the American Revolutionary war. The crew spoke of a battle in which Colonel Baldwin had engaged several thousand of the enemy advancing over rugged terrain, upon which he led his own force of a few hundred irregulars to retake a bridge and repel the enemy. Baldwin’s advance was repelled, but reinforcements from the main force tipped the balance and the bridge was retaken.

The tidy and handsome boatswain had never spoken of this event openly, but it was one of the many stories about his past life that pointed to his character.

“We’re gaining on them!” Blackheart howled with glee and the ships hands around her leapt alive, preparing grapples! muskets and swords.Redbeard emerged from the hatch carrying more rifles. Blackheart’s lustrous eyes bore into his back, as he turned; the flash of blue from his own eyes rattled her. They had met many years ago, when he had been working for his majesty’s service on HMS Horticulture, a research vessel. She had found him amiable enough, though a bit of a loner, with the occasional cloudy mood. It wasn’t until they had their first privateer letters of marque for French and Spanish ships that they realised how well they worked together. She liked his ability to push her to action and he somehow tolerated her endless vexation of him. For a year, they chased ships laden with silver and gold, but it was all handed over to the authorities, under their letters of marque.

That’s when Blackheart saw her… the ’Capricious.’ A ship as full of whimsy, wanderlust and red hot passion, akin to herself. A ship as dangerous as her darkest moods and as beautiful as her brightest smiles. Redbeard of course leapt at her brilliant idea and settled quickly into quartermaster’s position. Once out of port and with a small but growing crew of pirates, her flag unfurled; a red heart on a field of sable, or the inverse of that design, for a sign that no quarter would be asked nor given. Months passed and their crew and reputation had grown mighty and fearsome (tales for another time). Now they chased their quarry into deeper seas.

Blackheart shook herself free of the daydream and snatched her eyes away from Redbeard, yet with a lusty magnetism, they snapped back towards him, just in time to see him flash a bold grin her way as he loaded his pistols. Unusually this flushed her and she smiled sheepishly in return.

Another cobalt blue puff of smoke plumed from the rear of the enemy’s ship. This time, the shot splashed mere yards from the bow of the ’Capricious.’ This severed Blackheart’s dream of a shirtless Redbeard and she refocused on the task at hand. Sailing straight and fast to shatter the foes decking and loot her cargo!

***

It was long minutes later when the ’Capricious’ began to draw alongside the enemy. Pistol shots rang and musket fire strafed their decks, as the foe fought against the pirates imminent boarding. Several of her pirates went down to fire, but it was time to let fly. “Flag!” she bellowed with a hearty laugh and the black flag, skeleton, rose and rum was lowered, then replaced with the single bloody rose. This meant Blackheart and her crew meant murder and no quarter would be given.

Blackheart was about to bellow the order to fire, when a horrendous boom erupted from the enemy ship. They had fired their artillery first. Splinters of timber flew in all directions, as did more of her sailors. With gritted teeth and a sweat breaking upon her brow, Blackheart issued the order. “ALL GUNS!” she roared and in return her own ship made a devastating salvo of grapeshot and cannonball. The enemy ship rocked to the side under the sheer magnitude of the ’Capricious’’ explosive dominance.

The smoke began to clear and the sight revealed was that of two severely damaged ships, floating side by side. An eerie silence permeated both of them. Then, with a thunderous crack, the enemy’s mast splintered at the base, teetered, then crashed to the deck, leaving the ship helpless.

From rail side, Redbeard leapt up with a roar that would put a quiver in even the bravest sailors hearts, and he leapt with no regard for his life, over the enemy’s rail and towards the fallen mast. A dozen of the most fearsome pirates followed him, including Baldwin the incredibly foolhardy boatswain. They disappeared from view amidst the wreckage, and the sound of combat began.

Blackheart’s very heart leapt into her throat. She scampered down to the deck and vaulted onto the enemy ship, drawing her sword. Three dozen of her crewmen followed her with glee, knowing that adventure always awaited in the wake of their bold captain. Through the privateers, she made her way to the last sighting of Redbeard. The spray of blood delighted her, as she dreamt of the gold awaiting in the cargo.

Redbeard had pressed immediately towards the helm; the most likely place their captain would be. The resistance was fierce, but he and the dedicated few who joined, made swift and bloody progress. Until, from behind the fallen mast arose six privateers and their muskets rang with a series of sharp cracks. The remainder of his men fell away, dead or mortally wounded. Redbeard raised his pistol and sword and with a grimace, prepared to charge into certain death.

Two of the enemy’s fell to pistol shot before his very eyes. Redbeard glanced behind him, regardless of the fact that the privateers in their orange surcoats were drawing swords. Blackheart, his captain, emerged from the wreckage, her long barrelled pistol raised high. Such a fearsome sight was she that the remaining four combatants blanched.

Redbeard stared at her, his mouth agape; for the first time he could see the sheer savagery of her beauty. Her mouth was curled back in a gleeful smile at having dispatched the privateers so soundly and she snorted with laughter. Her hair rose in the salty wind like the dark smoke of a black powder explosion. Her skin, though smudged with smoke and smeared in blood, shone like silk. Her eyes of mahogany were filled with power and confidence and bore right into his, never shifting her gaze from him, she lithely brushed past Redbeard and he shivered.

“What are you waiting for you fool?” she cursed plunging herself aggressively, sword point first, into the remaining privateers. Redbeard broke from his reverie, chuckling at her casual assertiveness. The quartermaster spun on his heel, both pistols drawn, and strolled boldly by her side, firing with heady bloodlust and assurance, an assurance he always had by his captain’s side. Such a force were they that the enemy ship fell in mere minutes and the remainder of the crew of the ’Capricious’ let up a victory cheer.

***

’Capricious’ rocked rhythmically over the ocean. To some of the sailors, it was like being rocked to sleep by their mothers. To Blackheart, while she found it calming, it also gave her a sense of togetherness and motivation. The fearsome captain perused the list of takings from the privateers and glanced towards the chests of Spanish payroll stacked in the corner of her quarters. It was a large sum indeed and would send her and the crew well on their way to being amongst the wealthiest of pirates.

The privateer’s ship was stripped of her colours and quickly repaired to a sailable state. The new ship was dubbed, ’Rougess’. Blackheart split her crew and ordered them to the nearest port to restock and seek reinforcements. Now, with two ships under her command, Captain Blackheart felt the flushes of success as her own ship and the newly captured and repaired one, made preparations to sail for port.

Something, however, didn’t quite add up. The privateer’s captain, whose name she had learned was De Frustrerende, was said to have been killed in battle and later found lifeless on the surgeon’s table. But as the pieces shuffled in her mind, a suspicion crept in—what if it wasn’t De Frustrerende who lay dead under the surgeon’s knife? The conclusion was emerging from the haze when Blackheart was interrupted. Four sharp knocks on the door heralded Redbeard and shattered her chain of thought, a pang of annoyance rose in her, but was quickly quelled by a barely stifled giggle. “Yes?” She snapped as churlishly as she could muster as the bandy legged quartermaster entered her cabin. “Captain, I’m here on behalf of the crew whose general consensus it appears, is to make for port as soon as possible,” Blackheart looked up from the inventories and surveyed her second in command. He had washed from top to toe and combed his unruly facial hair, he wore a handsome powder blue jacket and looked mildly uncomfortable… a nervous tension passed between them. Blackheart could not hold eye contact with the rugged pirate and he shuffled awkwardly.

“The men…”he continued. A glower crossed her face, given this often heralded a black mood! Redbeard winced accordingly. Blackheart’s eyes, deep wells of coal and gold, snapped to his own silvery blue ones. “No! We’re right on the tail of their fleet, we can take two more ships yet!” she huffed punctuating with a pout. “It’s not possible my captain; we’ve already split the crew to accompany your new ship ’Rougess’ to port for repairs. And Baldwin is hanging by a thread of breath, he needs a surgeon,” And as the words left his mouth, a look of shock ambushed her face. “Their surgeon… did you learn his name?” she snapped at the bewildered Redbeard. “Argh, um… no, he died on the table under his assistant,” Redbeard explained. Blackheart ’s mouth snapped shut and her hauntingly brooding eyes calculated the recent chain of events. “Well that means that De Frustrerende is on my ’Rougess’,” Blackheart howled with chagrin. Redbeard looked confused, almost frightened, as Blackheart roared in anger. “Their captain! Disguised as their surgeon! Is on my ship! Are you going to do something?” she continued with her fearful assault. “All hands?” she growled throatily like a panther, her eyes filled with storm clouds and her gaze was vehement. “All hands!!!” Redbeard quavered, staring at Blackheart, who heaved with anger. The flash of lightning in her eyes prompted swift response. “ALL HANDS!!!” he bellowed like a devil and spun racing, removing his handsome jacket mid stride. He dropped it, leaving it to crumple in the passageway. Blackheart watched after the dishevelled quartermaster still simmering, but noticing the jacket, her lips pursed into a proud smile and she stroked her luxurious hair.

***

It was no problem for Blackheart to trace ’Rougess’ back to port and as she docked, the ’Capricious’ (under an Italian flag as disguise) the evidence of her crew could be seen. The trails of tools and timber surrounding the ’Rougess’ had meant that her men had immediately leapt to work on further repairs. Blackheart breathed deep of the city air. It was the first time in over six months that the scents of port life had invaded her nostrils. The ubiquitous reek of sewerage and rotten fish ever present; compounded by animal manure and the burned oil of lamps and lanterns. While the conglomerate of fetid odours made her head spin with memories of life on the land… it was the other scents that fired her imagination. Merchants carried goods past the gangplank; gingers and bunches of peppers, cardamom, bananas, coffee… their pungent bitter waft enlivened her very spirit. Blackheart’s eyes dilated peering at the colourful silks and candles being haggled on land, where the wealthy ladies (or rather their maidservants) procured liliums, arums and all manner of exotic flowers.

A squeal of unabashed joy and a not so delicate scamper to the gangplank, perplexed more than a few of her loyal henchmen, as they made about unloading and restocking the ship. “Remember men; tavern at eight!” she grinned throatily and her grin was returned with gusto, many an eye sparkled after the captain, as she went to press pass Redbeard on the gangplank, her eyes fixated on one rare bunch of spices or another.

“Hold Captain!” he swore, swinging his shoulder to block her slim frame. While no sound emerged from her gaped mouth, a frown was quickly making a statement. “Its too dangerous! We have to be careful,” He chided her, knowing to ignore the frown and the pout. “Stand down quartermaster, we have too much work to do,” She grumbled, understanding completely that he read her like a book in these matters and played her own tempers against her. “At least arm yourself!” he retorted hotly, glancing at a passing barrel of grapes. “Would you ever turn to farming?” he mused in a daydream, as the fruits danced past, filled with unrealised wine. “No,” she sang curtly, slipping his grasp on the plank and spinning to display the knife and pistol under her coat. Redbeard both wilted and fumed under her frivolity. Blackheart consoled him by poking her little pink tongue out and skipping away.

“Capricious little beast,” He swore under his breath.

It was little consolation to his hurt ego and the quartermaster, now quite gruff, gifted himself the notion that he would settle important matters with her that night.

***

Atop the cliffs, overlooking the harbour sat the large hacienda style tavern. It was brightly lit with lamps, candles and a large fire. From within, jaunty flamenco music played, weaving a spell of excitement and setting the tone for adventure. Well then, she’ll be in a fine festive mood tonight, Redbeard thought to himself. Glancing briefly at a bedding of rich red roses, he reached out and grazed one with the tips of his fingers. It gave like the most supple silk, with a subtle sweet scent that flirted with his nostrils. He pinched a stem, as if to pluck one and jolted back, recalling the fifty or more pirates marching up the cobbled road behind him.

The rugged quartermaster dismissed all thoughts of romance, setting his face in a grimace of authority he lead the way into the pub. The huge portico allowed the burly members of Blackhearts dreaded ship to enter four abreast. Redbeard, the master gunner and the boatswains, marvelled at the magnitude of the establishment, while from behind, many more pirates jostled for a better view. The vast taproom could hold three hundred or more sailors at capacity, a balcony stretched the entire perimeter of the building and like the spokes of a wheel, a myriad of private rooms were built one after the other. The vaulted ceiling added to the immensity of the structure, with enough space to hang a dozen rustic chandeliers each fitted with oil lights.

The smells of Spanish food wafted through the taproom and dusky skinned maids, with curly onyx hair, swayed by with plates mounded with paella and pastries, tapas of olive and tomato dried in sea air, spiced potatoes, prawns and roast lamb. Others swirled past with trays of ice cold beer in small tankards. Each beautiful Spaniard that danced by, enchanted an entire ship full of pirates, all trying to press their way into the throng and impress one of these mysterious maidens.

Some pirates leered lasciviously, while others with more worldly experience, doted on the exotic women in foreign languages, while displaying jewels and pearls to win their affections. As Redbeard boldly paced in, he pressed past each gorgeous woman as if she were a ghost or a devilish sea siren to be avoided at all cost. Instead, he peered left and right in search of the meanest sea siren of them all.

While the band continued to play, guitars jangling and bells ringing a majority of the patrons turned to see the commotion in the doorway. Redbeard took a step to the side and hurriedly started shoving his crew into the taproom, both admonishing and encouraging them. “Get a beer you lout!”

“Stop gawking land lubber!”

“Here’s a piece of eight you festering barnacle,” And little by little the crew of the ’Capricious’ made their way in. Glancing around,Redbeard surveyed the scene. Apart from tavern workers, dancers and some of the bolder traders and gentry, the tavern was a pirate haunt. A crew of sleazy French pirates glared with the most disdain, some enormous African pirates were making merry and a bunch of Englishmen were settling ships matters with their fists.

Redbeard pressed further into the crowded tavern, searching earnestly for his captain. He heard her huffing and snorting with laughter before seeing her, and parted two burly Spanish traders to find her. At the very back of the tavern, farthest from the doorway and at the biggest table, she lounged. Feet up, flagon of red wine clutched lazily in her fingers and surrounded by a half dozen other pirate captains. Each one was a head taller than he, built of solid muscle, fierce and handsome.

Of course, Blackheart was looking resplendent in her long coat, polished boots and black tights, her silk shirt’s plunged neckline displayed her lustrous milk-coffee skin. Around her graceful and sleek neck hung a silver necklace, hanging off which was a large pearl. Her smile was wide and easy and she laughed as she and the other captains bantered. A glow permeated her cheeks and face, as her head tipped back with a giggle after each witty retort. Her teeth shone and her glossy lashes fluttered.

Redbeard, simmering with jealousy, watched on snorting like an angry bull. Each captain vied for her attention like a sycophantic cabin boy. The quartermaster reached into his coat to check his pistol and pawed slightly at the pommel of his sabre. Shaking out his frightful ginger beard, he offered one last snort of aggression before approaching the table. “Captain!” he offered with mock surprise. The table turned to him and the other captains glared, particularly the swarthy Frenchman closest to Blackheart. “Redbeard, I’m on important business here,” Blackheart said drolly and this elicited several chuckles. The Frenchman puffed himself up and stood over Redbeard. Easily over six feet in height and broad in the shoulders, the French captain was a behemoth. His hands were as big as oars and his fingers were dripping in gold rings, his shirt was open at the front displaying not only muscle, but also body hair and a shining gold chain. His extremely handsome face with a strong chiselled jaw was marked in three places by battle scars, which rather than detract from, actually enhanced the man’s natural beauty.

Redbeard looked up and huffed at the Frenchman dismissively. Without breaking eye contact with the enormous pirate lord he said to Blackheart, “We must present the articles for the ’Capricious’ and pay the men!” he pressed, all the while meeting the cyclonic fury of the French Captain’s hot stare. Blackheart growled impatiently. “Fine! Pardon me Noir Jean, a Captain’s duties… you know..,” Blackheart grumbled punctuating the sentence with solid swigs from the flagon. Redbeard ushered his captain to their crew’s table, never letting his eyes leave Noir Jean L’énorme.

Redbeard gave his troublesome captain a slight push towards the chair at the centre of the table. She spun scowling at him briefly, but the roll of his eyes proved his invulnerability to this tactic. In fact, it was not often that Redbeard domineered, usually just when he was jealous of something. I’d best give you something to be jealous of then, hadn’t I? she thought smiling like a Cheshire cat peering from her peripheral to peruse the rugged and stormy quartermaster.

“Right men!” Blackheart proclaimed with a clap.Her crew crowding the tables, turned at her distinctive voice and manner. She took another gulp from the flagon before having it wrested from her fingertips by Redbeard. Another slight. Blackheart reached into her silk shirt and the slender pirate queen produced a parchment. “Our articles for the ’Capricious.’ Most of you have been sailing with me for a year,” She began holding the document aloft. “And Redbeard!” shouted one-eyed Willy. There were excited grunts and nods of agreement. “Oh yes, him too,” Blackheart chaffed. A glance and she saw Redbeard’s temper rolling from a storm into a hurricane, internally he was churning fiercely, full of thunder and hailstones. Not as sure of herself, Blackheart continued.“We have been sailing together for a year so our articles for ship life are going to be thus!” and the dusky swashbuckler unfurled the parchment.

I.The Captain is to have two full shares, the Quartermaster one share and one half, the Master gunner and Boatswains one share and one quarter. All other crew divided equally.

II.Every man has a vote in affairs of moment; has equal title to the fresh provisions, or strong liquors, at any time seized, and may use them at pleasure, unless a scarcity (not an uncommon thing among them) makes it necessary, for the good of all, to vote a retrenchment.

III.All romance to be left on land, no stowaways in disguise and no harassing of prudent women. A crew member found in breach of these laws will be punished by death or marooning.

IV.Every man must keep their pistols and sword clean and fit for service.

V.To desert the ship or their quarters in battle is punishable by death or marooning.

VI.Loss of limb, joint or eye during engagement may be compensated with eight hundred pieces out of common coffers. The afflicted sailor may remain aboard as long as he thinks fit.

VII.All other breaches of common ship code to be punishable at Captain’s or Quartermaster’s discretion.

With each article read, the crew roused swigging deeply and cheering. As Blackheart delivered the code, Redbeard passed through the crowd distributing the takings from De Frustrerend’s ship. As the crew began to disperse after the reading the article and the distribution of the payroll had been finalised, the French crew began pressing in around them. The music seemed to be rising to a crescendo and gradually changed to a flamenco. Noir Jean L’énorme pushed through both crews and grasped Blackheart’s dainty hand. He flipped his intricately decorated cocked hat onto her head and she spun into his arms and began dancing with him. All around the French pirates cheered their captain’s boldness and jeered at the vanishing crew of the ’Capricious.’

As Blackheart twirled and pressed against Noir Jean, the sledging from the French crew intensified. Redbeard shoved himself free from the press and leapt atop the table. The French mutterings of enslaving the crew of the ’Capricious’ and the thought ofNoir Jean taking Blackheart as his slave wife, rang in his ears. “Men of the Capricious, let’s show these French dogs how real men fight!” He bellowed and launched himself at Noir Jean. The taproom exploded with action as the pirates of the ’Capricious’ flew to arms and the French, already spoiling for a fight, grabbed their weaponry.

Redbeard tackled the enormous Jean around the neck and Blackheart was thrown free. At first she was smiling as chaos erupted around her, but that smile vanished like mist upon the realisation that both men were intent on murder. The husky quartermaster and the huge French captain got to their feet as their men engaged around them. Quick as a swooping hawk, Redbeard reached for his pistol! drew it and aimed for Noir Jean’s heart. Noir Jean stood armed with a bottle of spirits and as Redbeard pulled the trigger of his pistol, Noir Jean was struck holding the alcohol.

The pistol cracked, a ball of flame erupted and an unquenchable fire started to take the place. Patting his flaming coat out, Redbeard simply offered a strong kick to the confused Frenchman and he toppled backwards crushing a French pirate and shattering a table. Redbeard offered an incredulous stare at Blackheart, who met his scrutiny with bafflement. Both then smiled broadly at each other and each grabbed a shipmate by the collar and made for the exit, as the smoke and flames rose higher.

***

One hundred mostly half some fully drunk pirates ran, winding their way through the cobbled streets towards the seafront. Several were carrying flagons, others juggled platters of tavern food all wrested during the confusion of the melee with the French. Even two of the striking serving girls had made it along for the adventure, looking beautifully confused and enigmatically excited all at once. The stark reminder of the brawl lit up the skies and the cliff faces behind them in a sparking blaze of orange flame?

The grinning Blackheart skirted the corner onto the docks, followed closely by the still surly Redbeard. Her mouth turned from relish to chagrin and she emitted a frustrated groan of anger. “My Capricious!” she wailed dropping dramatically to her knees covering her face and peering between her hands. “De Frustrerende!” she screamed in a rage, one that jolted even her most fearless followers; Redbeard included. “The Rougess, is she sailable?” Redbeard barked at a boatswain, who after a look left and right wore a clip to the head. “Donald? Has that mast been replaced?” Redbeard in turn barked in the direction of the Master Gunner. “Yessir,” Donald replied with a slur, taking a draught from his flagon. “Set sail men, grab what provisions ye can and get that craft in the open water!” Redbeard boomed bringing his sudden authority to bear on the situation. Blackheart sustained her position on the ground sobbing erratically, the hurt was genuine and it shook her shoulders and quivered her body. A sharp pain caught in Redbeard’s throat as he scooped up his limp captain. She was light and fit perfectly into the crooks of his arms. As the crew dashed across the harbour towards the ’Rougess,’ town watch bells rang to a fever pitch and Redbeard strode swiftly after them, gently cradling Blackheart. “I know what it means to you, I’ll get that ship back,” The rugged quartermaster swore holding her closer to him as he tread the gangplank onto the deck of the ’Rougess.’

Dread ship ’Rougess.’ Under Quartermaster Redbeard. Twelve guns and 100 souls; sailing for respite.

***

Musket fire rang through the early morning. The steel grey of first light illuminated the stark black pall of smoke over Valencia. The ’Rougess’ limped out to sea, under the watch of the boatswains. By the helm, Redbeard knelt over the gently sobbing Blackheart. He had never seen her like this before, had never seen her heart fractured into a thousand tiny pieces. “Baldwin, bring rum,” Redbeard urged the American boatswain, the huge strapping lad obliged quickly, looking not without pity at his dishevelled captain. “Sir,” He handed over the flagon and watched on as Redbeard tipped the bottle up over Blackheart’s lips. “It’s West Indies Rum sir,” The vast boatswain offered with a clumsy grin.The first dribble spilled over her lips but the second and third were weakly slurped and the fourth resulted in a gulp. Redbeard smiled, it would have spelled trouble had she not been able to drink. He himself took a swig and with a sharp sniff passed the bottle up to Baldwin, who then relished the sharpness of the West Indies liquor passing through his teeth.

Two more gulps and Blackheart was on her feet leaning on the wheel with superficial guidance from Redbeard. Baldwin and Donald, both with flagons, swayed side to side and had begun to sing the ship’s song. This in turn brought the majority of the crew onto the deck to see what the commotion was and soon a couple of barrels of grog were opened on deck. A wry smile crossed Blackheart’s face as she surveyed the scallywags and vagabonds under her command. “First we retrieve our ’Capricious.’ Then we sail on to silver and gold!” she declared grandiosely. A rousing cheer went up and the sloshing of grog began in earnest. Redbeard watched on from the rear of the quarterdeck. All things considered, we’ve made it out relatively unscathed, he mused with a small but sincere smile, and he watched Blackheart take command of her new ship.

***

Redbeard awoke with a splitting headache… the water was cool in his boots and the sand velvety between his fingers. The quartermaster bolted upright, nearly splitting his head on the tiny sea cave entrance. Panic set in and he floundered in the dim light feeling around him for answers, a trunk, a musket and a duffle bag…. A body, slim, long coat… too cool to the touch. The panic exploded into full a blown anxiety attack. His heart palpitated and his brain leapt to thousands of conclusions as time slowed. He looped his arms around Blackheart and with his own heart beating out of his chest pushed his way out of the sea cave. The main beach was thirty yards away and despite years at sea, Redbeard was not a strong swimmer. He propped the slight woman on his knotted shoulders and propelled himself forwards with his bandy legs. The chill sea water stung his eyes and threatened to fill his lungs with each bob, but after one eternal minute he hauled himself, with her over his shoulders, up onto the beach. He had no idea how long she had been resting with her head under the water and Redbeard hurriedly flopped her into his arms, grasped her around the stomach and pulled her towards him. She expelled a great amount of seawater, but an even greater amount of rum. “Stupid girl!” he bellowed, completely forgetting his own inebriated state. Redbeard lay her down on the sand and gave her a delicate press to the stomach first. A cough and another splutter of rum and brine signalled success. “Don’t you dare!” he continued to berate the near dead woman. “You brought me into this and you’re going to see it through!” he added with a choked whimper, laying his hands on her chest and administering three firm presses, which he followed with an awkward blow of air into her lungs as he’d seen a French surgeon do once. Pressing his ear up to her mouth he was rewarded with a sharp intake of air. Pulling back the dishevelled sailor, he witnessed the fluttering of long, salt sticky lashes. The mist surrounding the pair pooled in his eyes and he wiped it away uselessly, everything was salt and water. He rolled the shallowly breathing woman over to her side, her eyes fluttering at him in the condensation, ethereal, ebony and piercing. This forced another whimper as he had to leave her.

We’re both as good as dead if I don’t retrieve that trunk! Redbeard screamed at himself inwardly looking torn between the sea cave, the rising tide and his captain, the sea lapped at her boots and he raced over and dragged her a few yards inland. “Redbeard…” she said weakly. “I’ll only be a few minutes, I must keep the powder and wadding dry!” the cunning quartermaster explained, before steeling himself for the ocean. He raced into the choppy waters and pressed into its grim depths, spluttering the whole way. A great breath of air into big lungs and he ducked into the cave, feeling from memory he pressed the duffel bag between his legs and shouldered the musket. The trunk eluded him and panic set in again, rainbow colours spiralled before his eyes and he snorted in a gulp of sea water. Pain wracked his chest, just as his fingers closed vicelike on a handle of the trunk. After a feat of strength and sheer will, Redbeard dragged the trunk out after him and with a kick, he surfaced and roared for air. His bristly beard and shaggy hair plastered his face and head. The exhausted quartermaster near floated the distance to shore, which was forgiving with the duffel bag and trunk as floatation. The rain proper started and as he staggered up on the beach once more, he genuinely measured the need to collapse against the need to save both their lives.

Something surged in him as he saw his captain shift and cough, he set himself to trot up the beach to her, duffel and musket on his back, trunk on his shoulder. Redbeard leant down and plucked Blackheart up under his left arm, then doubled his pace towards the tree line. From some unknown source, he drew great strength and unmeasurable stamina, and made his way over hundreds of yards of rough terrain carrying a near impossible load. He set her down in the saddle of two hills, amidst the shelter of some small twisted olive trees. He opened the duffel and the blankets were not just dry, but warm, so he swaddled her in them. Redbeard pressed a finger to Blackheart’s cheek and found her warmth had returned. “Are we still in Spain?” she murmured. “Hush woman. Rest, let me work in peace,” “I’m your captain!” she mumbled deliriously with a frown and cloudy look. To which Redbeard’s reply was to simply tuck the blankets up higher, with a cooing hush.

Redbeard hurriedly swept desiccated timber under the dry side of the duffel and propped the trunk in a low hanging branch of an olive tree. The rain had now set in and while not heavy, was steady. The first task he set himself was fire and so began working the kindling and sticks into a punk.

***

Over an hour later, soaked to the bone and with chapped hands! Redbeard slid a large chunk of driftwood into the burgeoning fire. Now self-sustaining, he turned his attention to the next tasks to ensure survival. Shelter leapt to the forefront of his mind and he scanned the landscape. There was an abundance of fieldstone for a small structure, but first a temporary roof was best. The quartermaster knelt and drew his captain closer to the fire, she shuddered with cold, but relaxed quickly by its glowing warmth. A curt nod and Redbeard drew his sabre, he had passed some rushes in a brackish pool navigating the terrain earlier in the afternoon. Bundled and propped in the trees they would serve as a suitable cover until he could construct the cottage first thing in the morning.

For the next few hours the sailor worked tirelessly cutting and bundling every last reed and tying them with strips of his shirt. Bare chested and heaving in the rain and cold, he intermittently scoured the beach for driftwood, which was piled by the fire to dry. It was when he stacked wood that he checked Blackheart’s breath with an ear. She would often mutter one curse or another against him, but it was cathartic to feel her sweet exhale.

In the gloom of the evening, he retired to the makeshift shelter. Redbeard fed the fire and again turned Blackheart. This time she roused slightly, muttering with more confusion. “There is no danger my captain. I am near and the night is safe,” He assured her, dripping water from the canteen to her lips. There was enough water for a few days, but fresh supplies were vital. After several deep slurps of water, she clung to his arm with a wistful dreamy smile on her face. It pained Redbeard to extract himself from her grasp, but survival was paramount.

The shaggy fellow lifted the trunk from the branches and inspected its contents, plenty of shot, powder and wadding for the Brown Bess. Enough cheese, pickle, preserved eggs and salted beef for a week. A compass and a Bible.Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. He mused turning the manuscript over in his hands. He looked to Blackheart! then took an oath that they both would leave this desolate place alive. May my yes be yes and my no be no. He prayed briefly.

Redbeard lifted his long coat from the branches above the fire. Despite the fact that it was thoroughly infused with wood smoke, it was warm and dry. He huddled under it and received the first comfort of the exhausting day. He looked to Blackheart, whose face was soft by the firelight, the only consolation in all of this mess was that they lived and they were together.

He watched over his captain and their small camp for as long as he dared. The morning would be soon and a proper shelter would have to be built and potable water sourced. Blackheart stirred ever so slightly and Redbeard was lulled to sleep by her murmur…

“Redbeard… where are you?”

***

The morning saw Redbeard set quickly to work. Sad dreams had kept him fitfully wakeful throughout the night, yet he rose at daybreak with energy to spare. He quickly smoothed a patch of earth with a suitable piece of flat fieldstone and began laying foundational stones. The stacking was quick and easy as the sailor’s hands moved swiftly throughout the morning. Stopping only briefly to chew a small amount of dried beef, the hours were solidly filled with construction. By midday he was half way through the tiny round stone cottage. Redbeard had made provision for a fireplace, but this had depleted the stone in the area significantly.

A foray saw the quartermaster return with many armloads of freshly quarried stone, cornerstones, bridging stones, building stones and chink stones, and as the pile grew Blackheart roused. “What’s going on?” she grumbled in a lucid moment. Redbeard quickly grew attentive to this and took time to rest. “We’re marooned,” Redbeard explained simply, crouching on his haunches by her. Blackheart jolted upright, wide awake. “What? Why?” she croaked, meaning to scream, but the words were caught in her throat like tuna in a cast net. “I’m not entirely certain, last I remember I had you on my shoulders and we were chasing one eyed Willy with a leg of ham,” He began glumly but a large grin soon invaded his face. Blackheart turned to him wide eyed and near incredulous and they both laughed.

He settled her again under the thatch roof balanced in the trees, convincing her to rest, and resumed erecting the cottage. It was nigh on dusk, overcast and thankfully dry, as he applied the previously harvested bundles of reeds to the roof of the structure. Despite her protestations, Redbeard insisted on carrying Blackheart the few yards into the cottage and transferred the fire accordingly. He stowed the limited gear they had at their disposal and settled himself by the doorway. The cottage was roundish and had only a few square yards flooring. It was squat and neither could stand in it, but the stonework was decent and the thatch tight.

“Where did you learn all of this?” she queried as he rationed out food by the fading twilight. “My father is a farmer. We built all of our walls and structures in drywall,” He proceeded looking to her questioning face. It was sombre, but the warmth of her eyes, as always, infiltrated his heart and stilled his inner turmoils. Blackheart missed the relieved smile that brushed his lips and her inquiry continued. “I was under the impression that you were from the gentry…”

“My mother’s dream perhaps, that’s why I was on Her Majesties Horticulture when you and I met. Mother expected me to get close to the men of learning and possibly gain a mentor,” He trailed off wistfully. “I was no sailor then but something about the sea stole my heart,” He added by way of explaining their current circumstances. “The sea?” she chided with a devilish smile that could disarm a kingdom. Even in the glow of the hearth, the ruddy farmer’s son blushed deeply, almost unable to meet her probing gaze. Blackheart merely fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously and her dark eyes bore into the poor man, like smouldering hot musket shot.

Her slinky shoulders wriggled under the blanket and she sat upright, accepting the mess plate of stark rations. The blanket fell away to expose her naked arms; at some point she had shed her coat and remained only in her vest. Redbeard swallowed hard, tracing the artistry of her perfectly tanned skin glowing in the firelight. The impish woman tenderly chewed her food, feigning a glance at the fire, knowing full well that her quartermaster was drinking in her form with a highly appraising eye. “Tomorrow I’ll source water,” To quench these embers you fuel in me. Redbeard said mechanically changing the subject and thinking the latter, while rolling to his side and peering out the door, towards the distant ocean and clearing skies. Blackheart’s head snapped around and her glare was telling of her frustration at him. Still he peered, genuinely lost in his thoughts. Would he think salacious thoughts of me? No, it is not in his nature… or perhaps he might, just of me. Blackheart allowed herself a moment to bask selfishly in what could possibly be going on in that scruffy bearded head.

“Certainly, I’ll scout for provisions and try to get a better overview of the island. I’ll take the Brown Bess in case I see some quarry,” She busied her mouth with planning. “I should think that you require more rest,” He turned casually, but the stone like certainty behind his eyes arrested her objection before she could utter it. “Um, well… perhaps I’ll be up to it in the morning,” And she gave a wry and awkward smile. The tables had turned, as his steely eyes unveiled her insecurities. Blackheart squirmed as she realised that for the first time, he had collapsed her well-armed defences. From the moment they had met, he had known her intimately, yet she had warded him off, more for his sake than hers. This instant however, she had removed her mask and they both knew it. The silence, save for the breakers of the ocean and the crackle of driftwood, prevailed. He smiled warmly in the moment and she melted inside, coming completely unstuck under his charming and honest gaze.

He settled to rest as the day caught up with him, letting the intensity between them gently subside. They both turned with secret smiles. “Goodnight captain,” The quartermaster noted. “Goodnight Robert,” and she called him by name, with the tiniest catch in her voice. Redbeard trembled under his coat, the grin spread across his face and his heart filled with the warmest affections.

***

The days melded into weeks. Awkward silences hung in the air after their first night in the cottage and no more was said, other than their planning for survival, rescue or escape. Despite avoidant looks, forced smiles and muted conversations; the pair worked flawlessly as a team. Blackheart came across breadfruit, had expertly shot a goat and also shot two plump cormorants on the wing, which roasted beautifully. Redbeard likewise, had set snares for a steady supply of quail, discovered a well still brimming with clean water and had picked and transplanted wild rosemary around the cottage. The shipmates did not just survive in an unforgiving landscape and once dire situation, they flourished.

On days when hunting or foraging were not required, Blackheart whiled her time away atop the highest hill, staring longingly out to sea. One such day, she caught sight of Redbeard’s expanding mane bobbing up the worn path to the summit. He mounted the hill and they smiled genuinely at each other for the first time in over a month. “Hello,” He said simply and she patted one of the flat rocks, meaning for him to sit. He hovered over one and with a pained groan descended. She moved easily in the sunlight and a sheen cascaded over her. The sea captain closed her eyes and breathed the fine, blue, salty, sky. “There are worse ends,” She whispered, but in the clear still air, he heard her. “There have been longer maroonings too captain, all is not lost,” He countered. At this her eyes fluttered open. Men. She groaned. “You are truly imposs…” she trailed off eyes squinting. Redbeard spun so quickly he almost slid down the hillside. Blackheart squealed with excitement… a ship was nearing the island. Redbeard plucked up the nearby musket and fired a shot into the air. He was halfway through tearing open another cartridge with his teeth, when a shot was heard from the ship. Redbeard propped the rifle against a boulder and the duo looked at each other, they embraced and swung around in celebration, laughing with joy.

***

Gwyneth Gunnerson’s hair was like silver fire, cropped short ready for battle. Her mouth was sweet, but few knew the acid her tongue contained. Her eyes held a fierceness, not unlike an icy sea crashing against jagged cliff faces; enough to dash a man to pieces instantly. The savage captain hefted her long handled axe nonchalantly, coolly looking over the bedraggled pair. “Welcome aboard ’Duncan.’” She sang with a sudden smile and a laugh that would soften even the hardest of hearts. “We’re restocking here and then setting sail for Porto,” She added, extending a handshake of welcome. “If you’d kindly take us that far, we’d be able to secure one payment or another port side,” Redbeard said wearily. Gwyneth just offered another sweet smile and a loaded squeak of agreement. “You wouldn’t happen to have heard of a ship called, The Capricious?” Blackheart huffed with a hop onto the deck. Gwyneth spun to assess her with a wicked smile. “You’re Blackheart!” she squealed with an even bigger grin. “Yes, but how do you…”

“You’re the talk of Spain right now! Private quarters with me immediately, so much to discuss,” And the ruthless Scandinavian captain turned, pawing at Blackhearts hand. “My quartermaster always accompanies me in matters of business,” Blackheart explained hurriedly glancing back at the blanching Redbeard. Gwyneth looked jilted and there was a flash of chastised anger or frustration behind her eyes. Blackheart’s heart leapt into her throat and her breath quickened with adrenaline. The air was still as the vicious Gwyneth stood calculating. “Fine,” Gwyneth relented unwillingly and Blackheart exhaled explosively. The two followed Gwyneth to the captain’s quarters and there in secret, they discussed pirate matters.

***

It was only a few short days of good sailing to Porto. Blackheart and Redbeard were glad to be quartered with the boatswains after their ordeal on the deserted island. Gwyneth treated them well, but they had to earn their keep with regular ship duties. Blackheart and Gwyneth kept close company discussing ’The Capricious’ and the conundrum of De Frustrerende. That left Redbeard to regale the crew of the ’Duncan.’ With repeated tales of the battle with the French crew resulting in a towering inferno that lit up all of Spain, the heated taking of the ’Rougess’, how one eyed William came to have only one eye and his favourite tale of how he and Blackheart established the ’Capricious.’

The grizzled crew of ’Duncan’ appreciated the extra company and the embellishments Redbeard openly made, with each re-telling the story, which to Redbeard’s way of thinking, was a boon as if they didn’t like his tales, they may indeed skin him alive. Each warrior was not necessarily chosen for his boatmanship, but rather his size and skill at arms. They were however a fine crew and worked well together, possibly due to the fact that every last one of them had a secret terror of Gwyneth and upheld her fury and ability to command. It was only once, between the deserted island and Porto that ’Duncan’ saw action. A British galleon, loaded with payroll and subsequentlya hundred cannons and his majesty’s marines. As the little pirate frigate wheeled in the bay to engage the British galleon, Redbeard looked to Blackheart, clearly chaffing over the orders to attack the ship. His impish little captain chewed her lip, eyeing her quartermaster with a glimmer in her eye. This look took the edge off his anxiety and sharpened him for action, as he helped the monstrous boatswains equip the slavering crew. That same bloodthirsty pack of brutal pirates already boasted of victory and the spending of the booty. Blackheart and Redbeard nervously joined the roaring crew, swinging from the side rails as ’Duncan’ skimmed the water towards the galleon. The pirate frigates sailing was masterful, despite the roar of the warriors and the swift and sudden retaliation of the British warship. Plumes of sea water shot upwards around the ’Duncan’ as Gwyneth wove around cannon shot with deadly efficiency. Despite the frigate’s size and inadequate firepower, Gwyneth inched the ship closer, frustrating the galleon’s attempts to injure the gliding timber bird.

“She’ll put us on our beams!” Blackheart squealed in a mix of pleasure and terror. Redbeard chuckled behind his beard as his wild captain clearly savoured the adventure. Blackheart pressed in between two of Gwyneth’s giants to get a better view of the action. One growled, as the lithe buccaneer put her foot on the rail. Redbeard rumbled his own growl at the ferocious fellow; the quartermaster’s blue eyes bulging and flaring. The hulk turned his head to stare down the quartermaster, whose beard bristled in rage. Redbeard glared at the fellow as if staring down a thousand ships in gleamy weather and behind his eyes Gwyneth’s behemoth second guessed himself, dropping to the deck to allow Redbeard to step on the rail beside his captain. Such a sight was the quartermaster of ’Capricious’ that the crew of ’Duncan’ made ample room for him.

Blackheart smirked at her bristling second in command, as he hoisted himself up to the rail to be beside her. “Shall we?” Redbeard rumbled drolly drawing his sword. The ’Duncan’ drew up alongside the galleon and another volley of cannon shot was exchanged. ’Duncan’ was wounded this time and through the raining down of shattered timber, blood and seawater, the captain and quartermaster never broke eye contact. Redbeard’s berserk blue eyes met Blackheart’s flippantly dark and mysteriously veiled look. For torturously short seconds, their worlds stopped; the captain and quartermaster stared unblinkingly and each unknowingly dreamed of the other. “We shall,” Blackheart smiled sweetly as the first of the grapples arced overhead to draw the ships together.

The fighting was quick, bloody and brutal. Both Redbeard and Blackheart were among the first over the barricades feinting and roaring at the enemy, then the skirmish escalated into fully fledged battle. For two long minutes, the shipmates fought side by side against mariners and British crewmen before they became separated. A powder keg exploded between them and as each combatant leapt for cover the smoke and rapid reinforcement of British mariners separated them. The fighting continued, bloody and merciless, for torturously long minutes. Finally, the crew of the galleon admitted defeat and Gwyneth was triumphant in her victory. As Redbeard scoured the deck with anxious heartache, he finally found his captain. Both had earned the respect of several of Gwyneth’s barbarian pirates, for both were trailed by small numbers of the greedy and oafish men under the Scandinavian captains command.

The scruffy quartermaster merely had to glance sheepishly towards his dusky captain for her to register his discomfort at leading such brutes. “Come now men, get about your orders!” Blackheart barked at the giants. They meekly obeyed having seen her bloodthirsty chagrin for dismantling mariners. The crew mates of the ’Capricious’ brushed shoulders in the carnage. Redbeard watched as the hulking warriors began stripping every vestige of wealth or military might from the galleon.Puts our lot to shame. He thought. A mutinous crew of ruffian misfits. But as he imagined each face in that crew and the speed to which they could sail, he smiled wistfully. It was that crew of misfits that had made ’The Capricious’ one of the deadliest ships on the open ocean.

After the engagement and the sinking of the galleon, the ’Duncan’ fled from the bay, which now was spotted with longboats and life rafts crammed with survivors of the encounter.

The sailing from that place was smooth, sunny and unhampered and very soon, a shout arose from the crows nest and a booming, ’Land-ho!’ prevailed in the ragged winds, shearing the air above Portuguese waters.

***

Once tied off; the gangplank was lowered and Gwyneth was the first to alight, without so much as a goodbye to her new-found friends. There waited a footman and carriage. Straining to hear the conversation, Blackheart could just make out the following. “Your estate awaits,” The older man intoned to her and Gwyneth stepped into the carriage and vanished as suddenly as she had appeared. “Now that’s a successful pirate!” Blackheart noted in admiration. Redbeard scoffed. “She’d probably ransom her own mother for a few thousand pieces,” he muttered. Sniggers erupted behind them from the fierce crew of the ’Duncan,’ which was telling to say the least. “Hmmm,” Blackheart mulled setting her soft boot heel onto the gangplank. “I have a feeling that we’re on our way Redbeard…” and she turned looking at him over her shoulder and gave him a bright smile.

***