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smackenzieAnd Doren, to Maggie's great surprise, brought a cat.
“Her name is Dawn,” Doren said. The cat was small and orange and curled in the crook of Doren's arm.
“That is a silly name,” commented Ellim, walking past. She gestured to the cat. “Am I allowed to cook her if she becomes too much of a pest?” Doren looked shocked. “What if we are too long at sea and start to starve?”
“You will not cook the cat,” Maggie told her. She turned to Doren. “Where did you get it and why did you bring it on board?”
“It is a she, for one thing, and for another, I thought she could mouse. Perhaps keep the cows company. Or keep the crew company. She is small, she won't take up much space.”
“What will she eat?”
“Mice!”
“Do we have that many mice on board?”
“Yes,” Ellim said. She had evidently stayed to discuss the cat. “I have - “
“Do not tell me we have eaten mice.”
“Then I will not tell you that.”
Maggie knew she should not be surprised, but she had not wanted to know what exactly Ellim had been feeding them.
“Do you not have things to do?” Maggie demanded of her, and Ellim took the hint and walked off. “If I tell you that you cannot keep the cat,” she asked Doren, “will you get rid of it?”
“No.”
“You could have smuggled it on board and I would not have known.”
“I know. I thought you might want to meet her.” She held up the cat so its triangular orange face was mere inches from Maggie's. It blinked its yellow eyes. “You may pet her.”
Maggie had almost no experience with cats. Her mother had kept medium-sized terriers and some of her father's retainers had kept hunting dogs, and one of the masters at the Naval Academy had a pet ferret, but while she had known people who had kept pet cats, she herself had never spent much time with them. She had heard of military (and merchant) ships with domesticated animals on board, but she had likewise never sailed on one. So a cat on the Black Lightning was unusual and unexpected.
It was not bad luck to have a cat on board, but she had never heard that it was good luck either. And pirates, as she had told the priest, were a superstitious bunch of people. If a cat was not bad luck, there was no reason Doren would not want it on board.
“Fine,” Maggie conceded. “You may keep the cat.”
“I would have kept her anyway.” The cat mewed, as if it knew they were talking about it.
“But must you call her Dawn? It is a ridiculous name.”
“She was born at sunrise. That is what she is called.”
“If you insist. But put her somewhere, and soon – I wish to set sail before the tide goes back out.”
Maggie went off to find Abna and get a report on the state of the ship and the crew and to briefly discuss any changes to the Articles of Association, and then she found Yora to ask about the guns, and then she literally ran into one of the boys who had created so much relationship drama on the last voyage – she was just climbing up the hatch from the gun deck and he was trying to climb down. She was surprised to see him, but not surprised to look past him and see his on-and-off-again lover right behind him.
She had just over a hundred pirates on board, and according to Abna there were going to be more. She didn't want to wait for them, but she didn't want to set sail until she had as big a crew as she could get. She paced up and down the deck, thinking and planning and trying to frame her goals in a way that would most excite the crew. Abna climbed up from the hold and paced with her.
“Do you need something?” Maggie asked.
“The hold is as full as it is going to be,” Abna answered. “I have made a head count and we have a hundred and nineteen so far. There should be another thirty or so. No fights so far. There is a cat in the hold, did you know that?”
“Its name is Dawn and Doren brought it to catch mice and to keep the crew company.”
“How odd.” Abna shrugged. “As long as it does not terrorize the chickens or get into the rum, I do not expect it to be a problem.”
Someone hailed the ship from down on the dock, and Maggie and Abna peered over the gunwale to see who it was.
“Your priest is here,” Abna commented unnecessarily. Maggie could tell that she was smirking.
“He is not my priest. He told me he wished to come with us. I told him not to.”
“What can he do? I do not remember him having much of a talent for piracy.”
“He does not. He was a priest – do you imagine he will be able to fight and kill in the search for plunder? He will be useless until we are on land again.”
“Well, maybe not that useless.” Abna glanced at Maggie and leered. Maggie ignored her.
The priest hailed the ship again, apparently demanding the gangplank be lowered so he could come aboard. Someone lowered it for him and he trotted up and onto the main deck. He waved at Maggie and Abna and threaded his way through the milling crowd on deck. He was nearly run over by a girl chasing one of the chickens which had gotten out, and the sight of the priest backtracking in an attempt to not trip over the chicken or slam into the girl made Maggie and Abna both laugh.
“Permission to come aboard, captain,” he said once he reached them. He saluted.
“It is a little late for that, priest,” Maggie told him, “as you are already aboard. Why are you saluting me?”
“Are you not captain of this ship?”
“Do you not know that pirates salute no one? I told you that you knew nothing about us and look, you have proven me right.”
“Shall I show him belowdecks?” Abna asked. “Or will he be sharing your cabin?”
“Oh, be quiet,” Maggie said irritably. “He will not be sleeping with me or anyone else on this voyage. Do not pout at me, priest. We have had this conversation so many times it is not worth repeating.” She turned to Abna. “As soon as your other pirates have arrived, gather everyone on the quarterdeck for the Articles, and once they have all signed we will set sail. And you,” she pointed a finger at the priest, “find Yora and make yourself useful. If you are down on the gun deck you will not have to worry about what to do when we capture a ship.”
She remembered suddenly something he had told her on the previous voyage, after a storm has caused half the crew to go down with a flu, himself among them – he had called the Black Lightning a death barge and insisted he had never been so miserable as he was on board the ship.
“Do not insult my ship,” she told him now, “and do not tell me how wretched you are. Remember that you have chosen to be here. You will sign the Articles with everyone else, you will abide by them, and you will accept that you have become a pirate.”
“And you remember that in my heart I am still a priest.” He grinned at her, and for a brief second she wanted to smack that grin off his face. He was doomed to alternately test her patience and please her, and she did not want him on her ship, under her command.
“If you cannot pull your weight like every other person on this ship, I will put you overboard. Do not think that your enthusiasm in bed will save you.”
And she walked off before he could say anything more.
It was another hour or so before the last of the pirates that Abna had promised arrived on the ship. Maggie read out the Articles, the whole crew signed, and the Black Lightning weighed anchor and sailed out of the harbor and away from Port Doras and the (however slight) influence of law and civilization.
They were not two days out of port before Abna had to intervene in an argument between two pirates. (Oddly enough, not the two boys.) She (and Maggie) never did determine what the argument had been about, but since the two pirates had both drawn blood, she administered three lashes to each and gave them a good talking-to.
Two days after that, they were at each other's throats again, and Abna tied one to the foremast in the bow and the other to the mizzenmast in the stern, and left them there for a day and a half. They were allowed neither rum nor food, and this time Abna learned that they had fought over the bets in a game of dice.
“I cannot take their dice away,” she confessed to Maggie, “but I did confiscate their winnings.”
“Keep it,” Maggie said.
“I intended to.”
They were leaning against one of the cannons on the forecastle, on the port side. The sun was an hour or so past midday and the sea was still. There was a breeze, but not a very strong one. All around them pirates lazed about on deck, chatting, napping, playing cards or throwing dice, carving little bits of things, drinking, enjoying the peace and quiet. Maggie hoped there was a ship in their future, something to capture, something to test their mettle and boost her reputation. She wished to capture a navy vessel, it did not matter whose navy, but navy ships did not often travel alone and she knew the Black Lightning and her crew were not quite up to the task of taking more than one ship at at time, especially an armed navy ship.
But oh, how she wanted one. A captured navy frigate would sell for quite a bit – and more if she sold off the cannon separately, once she had taken the guns she wanted - or she could use it to gain the favor of another pirate captain and crew, to trade it for goodwill and support and future favors if she should need them. She could hold it for ransom. It would put her name on yet another wanted list, but she knew that by now she was wanted by every sea-going government on the continent, never mind the islands and the colonies to the west. She had harried enough merchant ships in her day. But now she wanted a military ship.
Perhaps she could ask the priest to pray for her to find one, and then to pray for its swift and successful capture. Yes, she would do that.
He flatly told her no, he could not ask his god for such a thing.
“Then what good are you?” she wanted to know. “Of what use is your god?”
“I minister to a person's spiritual needs, not her materialistic wants.”
“You are on my ship in a priestly capacity, are you not? My spiritual needs would be met if I could but capture a navy vessel.”
“The rest of the navy will come after you.”
“Every navy already wants my head. Why do you think I am going to raise my own?”
And that was something to think about, when she had nothing else to occupy her time. She had a notebook already half-full of ideas and diagrams and plans and potential outcomes, lists of fellow captains whose assistance she thought she might need and calculations as to how many of their pirate crews would do to capture and sack any cities that opposed her. She added to those notes, now, and she drafted speeches designed to convince other pirates to bring their own ships and join her, things she might say to her own crew, letters she could send to the king-in-exile and his supporters in Essanay and other places to let them know what she was planning and how much and what kind of help she wished to offer. She talked to Abna and Doren and Yuna and anyone who would discuss it with her, and she tried to listen to their concerns and address their questions.
Two weeks into their quest, her desire was surprisingly rewarded with a lookout up in the rigging sighting a navy frigate flying the Usurper's flag and sailing alone. Abna suggested that there was likely a reason the frigate was sailing solo, and while Maggie agreed, she also did not care. A quick vote among the crew, and they raised the Black Lightning's black flag and set the sails to chase the Usurper's ship.
The Black Lightning was fast, but the navy frigate was faster, and it seemed that Maggie's ship would be outrun. She resisted the urge to scream “Faster!” at Severein and Doren and the riggers. She wished the Black Lightning had been built or at least adapted for rowers.
She practically hung off the bowsprit over the prow of her ship, straining after the navy frigate, even sending up a series of desperate prayers to the priest's god. She wanted this vessel so very badly. She needed it for her future, for her reputation and her still-theoretical navy. She wanted the flag for her collection. She wanted the cannon and the cannonballs and the powder for the Black Lightning's gun deck and more than anything else she wanted to overpower the Usurper's sailors and take the frigate for her own.
She knew the sailors would put up a terrific fight. She was looking forward to it.
But it was not to be. The navy vessel had been ahead of them and either it was either faster or lighter or the sailing master on board was more skilled than Severein. In any case, the Black Lightning chased it for nearly two days before losing it completely. Maggie was disappointed and furious and she wanted to hit something, or someone. But it would not do for her to get in a fight with any of her crew, and the priest wisely made himself scarce so she could not pick a fight with him either.
She stormed up and down the main deck, and Severein took his orders from Abna and turned the Black Lightning west.
“There will be other ships,” Doren said after a day had passed and Maggie had calmed down. “It has only been a couple of weeks. We will keep searching.”
Maggie discovered the priest in her cabin that night and ordered him out before he could say a word. He had no doubt intended to offer her some comfort or advice or who knew what, but she did not want to talk to him. She was no longer so furious but she still did not need to hear that the navy frigate was not the last ship they would see, and that they would find other vessels to capture and plunder. And she did not have the patience for his inevitable sarcasm and his attempt to draw her into bed.
The Black Lightning did not encounter another navy ship, but they did overtake and overpower a merchant ship with a trading company flag. There were several soldiers on board, and all the sailors were well armed, and they put up a fierce fight when Maggie's pirates swung aboard their ship. Most of the sailors were either killed or so badly wounded that they would not survive, and all of the soldiers had been wounded in one way or another. Maggie ran one of them through with her sword, and when he toppled over with the force of it she had to plant her boot on his chest to yank her sword out of his body. He was not dead, and managed to grab her leg and try to pull her down with him. She lashed out with her sword again, catching him in the shoulder, and swung her leg towards his face in an effort to wrench it out of his grip.
Suddenly someone slammed into her from the side, bearing her to the floor, and she heard a pistol go off not five feet away.
“Get off!” she yelled, shoving at the body now lying on top of her, and was rewarded with a breathless and slightly indignant “I saved your life”. The person who had pushed her over rolled off her, stood, and offered her a hand. It was Viga, the tall rigger, blood on her face from a slice across her cheek, her shirt torn and bloody but her hand steady. She pulled Maggie to her feet.
“I apologize,” Maggie said. “Thank you.” She clapped Viga on the shoulder, turned on her heel, and struck out at he sailor who had apparently tried to shoot her.
After it was over, and the remaining soldiers and sailors had been subdued, Abna took some pirates and searched the ship for booty, making note of what there was and what it was worth. Maggie stalked among the wounded merchant crew, dispassionately dispatching those who were near death and would not survive. She had someone pull down the merchant ship's flag. She did not offer the remaining merchant crew a choice, but directed them wounded and all into one of the ship's cockboats after it had been lowered into the water. She would not longer show mercy to the crews of captured ships, and considering where the merchant ship and the Black Lightning were and that the remnants of the merchant crew did not receive any food or water, putting them overboard could not be called mercy.
Abna had all the worthwhile booty loaded onto the Black Lightning, and then they sank the merchant ship. It had yielded casks of rum, tropical birds, live geese, and a small trunk of silver and jewels. The pirates broke open the rum, which was better quality than the rum they carried in the hold, and they celebrated their successful capture for the rest of the day and long into the night.
Maggie was surprised – and she hated to admit it, a bit disappointed – that the priest chose not to visit her that night and drunkenly try to sleep with her. She would not change her rule for him or anyone, but now that she had been with him, she knew what she was missing. But so did he.
A storm a few days later succeeded in ripping some of the sails and cracking two of the yards, the cross masts that held the sails. Cannon shuddered on the gun deck and up on the main deck, untied ropes whipped around in the wind, and pirates stumbled back and forth as the ship pitched and rolled. No one washed overboard, although they lost some of the chickens which were being kept on the forecastle, but when the storm blew over – or they sailed through it – and inventory was taken of the damage, it was clear that the Black Lightning would have to find safe harbor for repairs.
Maggie fumed inwardly – this was a detour she did not need, time she did not want to take – but there was nothing to be done. She could not sail a ship with damaged rigging. Doren reported that there were leaks in the hold, but it seemed as if there were always leaks in the hold, and Yona complained that one of the gun port covers had been ripped off in the wind. Maggie thought it more likely that the hinges had given way and the cover had simply fallen off from neglect, but in either case it needed to be replaced.
Severein tried to find their location on his charts, and then he tried to find the nearest island, and Maggie was sure that a lookout sighted land by sheer luck.
They could not anchor offshore, as they had on the last voyage when an unstable hull had necessitated stopping for repairs, but beaching the Black Lightning was a tricky business. Luckily the crew was up to the task, and once the ship was safely beached, the crew went to work clearing debris off the deck and collecting saws and other equipment with which to prepare new yards for the sails.
They stayed on the island almost a week, working, resting, filling up on tropical fruit and the occasional crab and the wild pigs that roamed through the interior. The crabs were tasty when roasted over a fire, but so much trouble to eat that unless there were a lot of them, no one bothered to catch them. The pigs were a challenge to catch and took a long time to cook properly, but once fully roasted they were delicious and could feed far more people than a batch of crabs. Besides, by now the pirates were starved for fresh meat, especially the kind of meat that ran on four legs rather than scuttled on six.
The beach where they had stopped was on the western side of the island, and every dusk Maggie stopped whatever she was doing or saying or thinking to watch the sun sink into the water. It streaked the sea with silver, so bright she had to shade her eyes, before dropping below the horizon in a shivering ball of orange and red. The morning mist brought rainbows, single and double, the colors sometimes very clearly defined but more often than not merely fuzzy arcs against a blue-white sky, one end dropping into the water and the other hidden behind mountains and trees.
The beach was narrow and rocky, just long enough for the Black Lightning and the lengths of tree trunks with which the pirates shaped new yards. At night, small fires strung along the narrow strip of sand marked groups of pirates trying to cook and to see enough to play cards and gamble. There were a few fights, as there always were, but Abna administered punishment when necessary and no more blood was spilled than usual.
There were quite a few cases of illness due to eating unripe fruit, and even two deaths. Shortly after their arrival, several of the pirates trekked deep into the island's jungle and returned bearing a load of fruit, some of it with tough rinds and some already split open. The split fruit had already fallen from the trees, the pirates explained, but did not look or smell rotten, and more importantly did not need to be opened with a cutlass.
But some of the fruit that was still intact turned out to be fatally poisonous, as the crew discovered a few days later, after severe cramps and stomach upset turned into vomiting, jaundice, and convulsions, and left two pirates dead. Maggie had the bodies wrapped in spare pieces of sail so that when the ship was finally repaired and back at sea, the crew could tip them overboard for a proper pirate burial.
The priest said a few words over the bodies after they had been wrapped and laid out on the sand. Not all the pirates attended this small service, but the ones who did were quiet and respectful. Maggie was there, of course, and while she did not necessarily think the dead pirates would have wanted a man of the cloth to lead a funeral service over their bodies, she had never thought funerals were for the dead anyway, and if it gave the priest some comfort, and if it gave the attending pirates some peace, to have such a service, who was she to deny them?
It did not escape her notice that the priest seemed to become more and more priestly, and less and less piratical, as the days wore on. She remembered what he had said the last time they were beached on a deserted island, the way he had confessed that he no longer knew his path and that he did not think he could worship his god and practice his faith without the structure that his church provided. She remembered too that she had told him he could pray anywhere, that he did not need a church's guidance to show him how to love his god. She wondered when he had changed his mind – on board her ship, in Port Doras, in the past few days? Or was this all a show, designed to convince the pirates – and her, perhaps – that he was indeed a priest, defrocked or no, and he had meant it when he claimed to have joined the crew so that he could take care of their spiritual needs.
“You are no longer merely a priest in your heart,” she said to him later that night. He had wandered away from the fires on the beach and had planted himself on a flat rock just inside the edge of the jungle. From this vantage point he could see up and down the beach a ways, over and past the heads of the pirates sitting and lying around the closest fires. “You are a priest in fact. You are a church of one. How does it feel?”
“It feels very strange,” he said softly, looking out over the narrow beach at the water. “I can recite the appropriate words at the appropriate times, and I know in my heart that I am speaking to God, but I do not know if He is listening to me. I do not know if He can hear. Before, when I was... when I still belonged to my church, I knew He was listening. He always listened to us. But now? I do not know. I am one man, and He is used to listening to many.”
“But you did speak to Him. You do want Him to hear.”
“I did. I do. I am perhaps forging my own path after all. But I do not know.”
“When you lead the funeral service, did it give you any comfort? Did it feel as if it were something you should be doing?”
“It was not to comfort me.” He turned to look at her. The quarter moon did not offer enough light to clearly see his face. “So I cannot say. But I came on board your ship as a priest – I listened when you said I was still a man of God in my heart and that I could still find a way to demonstrate that, and I listened to myself say that I still loved God and still wished to worship Him – and I gave it much thought in Port Doras, how I might accomplish that. I will have to teach myself what to do. I do not know how, and I am still afraid I will not be able to speak to God in such a way that He will hear me – I am afraid I will never recreate the structure that worked for me, that gave me such guidance – I am afraid, Maggie. I am afraid all the time that I will never build the path to God that I need, or that I can share with others. But I am trying.”
She felt a wave of affection for him, for the way he spoke to her. He trusted her. Well, he had said he was in love with her, so she should not be surprised. But he did not seem to wish to hide anything from her, when they were alone and he could unburden himself. And she was proud of him, unfamiliar as that was, because she had given him advice and he had taken it, because he had looked deep in himself to find the answers he sought.
She almost wished to pay him back in kind, to tell him something deep and true about herself, something she had not told another person, something important to her conception of herself. But what could she tell him that he did not already know? She was in her heart still a captain of the Royal Navy, although the navy served the king-in-exile and not the Usurper or even her predecessor, but the priest knew that. She was going to raise her own navy, but he knew that too. She was not afraid of what lay in her future, she knew the next few steps to achieve her goal, she was confident in what she was doing.
And she liked him, but she still did not love him.
So she did not know what to offer, what to give him to show him how she felt.
“I do not want to talk about this again,” he said, so quietly she almost did not catch the words.
“Why not?”
“I want to be sure. The next time you ask me about my faith and my practice, I want to tell you what I am doing and that I know it brings me closer to God. I would tell you that I am no longer lost, that I found my way out of the darkness. And I cannot do that yet, so I do not wish to talk about it.”
“Then I will not ask you again.” She took his hand. “I think I am proud of you, priest. I do not think I have a right to be, but I am proud that you have come to this conclusion about yourself. I am proud that you have determined who and what you are, and that you may yet find a way to be that man.”
She would no doubt still find reasons to tease him, and things to joke about, but for now, she could be serious. She could tell him how she felt, and be honest with him as he had been honest with her.
“Do you regret that I followed you after all?” he asked.
“Why would I?”
“Because I still cannot fight or sail. I am still no use to you while we are on your ship.”
Maggie shrugged. “So far it has not mattered. When we catch up to a navy vessel – and we will catch one, I swear it – then I will expect you to help capture it and subdue its crew. You signed the Articles, you know what is expected of you. But you have not gotten in the way. And I will kick you out of my cabin every time, but I am not sorry to see your face.”
He leaned closer and kissed her. And she wished fiercely that she had never insisted on her one rule, that she had never demanded men and women stay away from each other on board her ship. But she could kiss him back, that was nothing, and so she did.
They sat that way for many minutes, just kissing. Finally the priest pulled away, brushed his thumb across her lower lip, and sighed.
“You will not sleep with me here,” he said.
“No. I cannot. I want to. I want you to know that under any other circumstance, I would. But not while we are still at sea. We are not even heading home. And so I am sorry, I cannot tell you how very sorry I am, but I will not.”
“But you want to.”
“Very badly.”
“You are a pirate. You are Red Maggie, captain of the Black Lightning, a woman without country who is subject to no laws. Is that not what pirates do – break the rules?” His face was very close to hers. If she were to flick out her tongue, she could lick his lips. The urge was strong, but she resisted.
“But this is my rule. I will not break my own rule. If I do, then I am no example, and all the pirates who sail with me will feel free to do the same. I must have at least this much order.”
“You must be in control.” His lips brushed hers. She felt him smile. She remembered leading as they danced at the Green Serpent, and she remembered leading when she took him up to her rooms in the inn and undressed him and straddled him and guided him through both his pleasure and hers.
Yes, she liked to be in control. It was the only way things would get done the way she wanted or needed.
He kissed her again, more insistent than before. His mouth tasted faintly of juicy tropical fruit, with a slight undertone of crab. Of course he would enjoy the crabs – they were difficult to crack open and devour.
“What can you do?” he murmured against her lips. “If you will not sleep with me, what will you do? What will you allow me to do to you?”
“You may kiss me once more.”
So he did. And again after that, and after that, and after that, until she was nearly sitting in his lap to get closer to his mouth. He had learned how to kiss, she noticed, and she wondered if that was all because of her, or if he had found other women to practice on in Port Doras. She did not care. She was not jealous where he was concerned.
“We cannot keep doing this,” she said. “I cannot.”
“If we crept off into the jungle....”
“People would know. There are no secrets on my ship, priest. Already someone knows we have been sitting here kissing.”
“But that does not break any rules.”
“No, it does not. But I cannot do more. If you make me I will push you off, and if you insist I will hurt you.” She did not think he could see the seriousness on her face, but he could easily hear it in her voice.
“Then we will stop,” he said meekly. “I am sorry.”
“Do not apologize, priest. But do not press me either.”
He did not make the innuendo she was expecting. For a priest and a newly-renewed man of God, he was remarkably earthy. Perhaps that would be part of his new personal doctrine, that one could be a good and faithful clergyman and yet indulge in the pleasures of the flesh. Maggie was a bit impressed that he could profess his love for God and his desire for the formal structures of churchly faith, and yet profess his love for her and his desire for her body.
She shifted off and away from him and they sat there in silence, watching the fires burning lower on the beach and the stars glittering far above. The priest reached for Maggie's hand and just held it.
“Do you know, you do not seem to mind that I keep calling you 'priest',” she said. “Even though that is how you think of yourself now. You do not mind that I have never called you by name.”
And he had told her his name, one night in Port Doras. But she had never used it.
“It is a term of affection, is it not?” he said. “At least, that is how I hear it.”
“That is how I mean it, most days. I may give you grief but I do like you. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” He leaned into her shoulder and she put her arm around him. She turned her head and pressed her lips to his temple, through his hair. “You will take me with you when you raise your navy,” he said. “I will stand by your side.”
She had to laugh. The thought of the priest standing next to her as she made her case before the various pirate captains, as she gathered a council and plotted their course, as she sailed into battle and jumped aboard enemy ships swinging her sword and firing her pistol – he was so unsuited for those things that she could not keep a straight face. Priest or no, he was not a fighter. She had known that almost as long as she had known him.
“Do not laugh,” he said, sounding injured. “I meant it. I will stand beside you as long as you need someone to do so.”
“But that is the thing, priest. I do not need anyone to stand beside me. I will stand or fall on my own, and whether other pirates follow me or not is on my own head.”
“I will still go with you.”
“So you say. I believe this is some way off in the future. I have a reputation to improve, first. I must make myself into the kind of person that other pirate captains will follow.”
“You will do it.”
“You have faith in me?” Her voice was light, teasing.
“I do.” His voice, in comparison, was quite serious.
“Come back down to the beach with me. We will find a spot at someone's fire and we will sleep with the heat at our backs. I feel a chill up here, and I wish to be with my crew.”
She got to her feet and held out her hand to him, and after a minute he took it. They climbed down the rock and made their way back to the beach, where the pirates' fires were dying down and the pirates themselves were dropping off to sleep. Maggie and the priest found room near one of the fires by the simple expedient of waking Doren enough to make her move, and then they both lay down, shifting around until the priest's head was resting on Maggie's shoulder, and that way they both fell asleep.
It took another two days to make the Black Lightning ready to sail, but as soon as the yards had been replaced and the sails repaired and any holes in hold patched, they pushed her back into the sea, boarded her with a load of island fruit and two pigs' worth of dried meat and the wrapped bodies of the two dead pirates, unfurled the sails, and pulled away from the island. Once out into deeper waters, they heaved the bodies overboard as was pirate custom, with Maggie as captain saying a few words as was navy custom. And then life on board returned to normal.
Fortune smiled on them again after a time, on this occasion with a merchant ship and a small naval escort. An armed military escort meant that the merchant ship was carrying something valuable indeed, and a navy vessel was the prize Maggie had been searching for. The crew voted nearly unanimously to chase them both down, and this time the Black Lightning managed to get close enough to demand the ships' surrender.
The merchant ship and the navy ship both flatly declined to surrender, as Maggie knew they would, so she gave the order to turn about so that the Black Lightning's cannon were in better position to fire. They had come up along the merchant ship, on the side away from the navy ship, on the theory that the merchant ship would be easier to overpower, and would also serve as protection from the navy ship's guns. But the merchant ship was also carrying its own complement of armed military men, who proved difficult to overpower – especially once the sailors on board the naval vessel jumped aboard to assist - and were overwhelmed only by the sheer number and viciousness of the Black Lightning's crew.
But it was a hard, close fight, and at the end of it the military men were not the only ones who had been killed. Maggie's crew separated out their dead and wounded from the others, and then Maggie had the military survivors summarily executed. And then both ships were hers.
“Take the naval vessel,” she told Abna, who did not need to be told twice. But first she took her women through the merchant ship to collect its treasure, which was indeed precious – not just barrels of rum and sugarcane and piles of dyed linen fabric, but also chests of coins and jewels and tightly-bound stacks of exotic island woods. Maggie wanted to roll around in it. She wanted to dig her hands into the chests, pull up handfuls of coins, and throw them in the air to shower down on her head.
And she had captured a military ship. It was not a large ship, but she did not care. She would take the weapons that she could, the gunpowder and swords and pistols and shot, and she would take the flag, and she would sink it.
The Black Lightning fired its guns on one side of the merchant ship and the naval ship with Abna at the helm fired its guns on the other, and after the merchant ship was reduced to kindling, the Black Lightning drew closer to the military ship so the pirates on board could jump across, and then Yora ordered the guns to fire again, and the military vessel caught fire during the bombardment and sank below the surface.
Maggie could have burst with pride and accomplishment. And they had retrieved a lot of treasure. They mourned and buried their dead after their fashion, and then it was time to celebrate.
The party lasted all day, all night, and into the next morning. There were several fights, as was to be expected on a ship full of suddenly wealthy pirates given unfettered access to a number of newly-acquired barrels of rum. It occurred to Maggie that perhaps they should not attempt to drain the barrels they had just captured – they should not drink all their profits – but she never expected to resell the rum from the merchant ship anyway, and besides, this was how pirates were paid. This was how she would keep them – with goods and gold and rum, and when those were scarce, with the promise of more.
words: 7112
total words: 30,717
quickie thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dear_tiger for tropical island and poisonous fruit info.
“Her name is Dawn,” Doren said. The cat was small and orange and curled in the crook of Doren's arm.
“That is a silly name,” commented Ellim, walking past. She gestured to the cat. “Am I allowed to cook her if she becomes too much of a pest?” Doren looked shocked. “What if we are too long at sea and start to starve?”
“You will not cook the cat,” Maggie told her. She turned to Doren. “Where did you get it and why did you bring it on board?”
“It is a she, for one thing, and for another, I thought she could mouse. Perhaps keep the cows company. Or keep the crew company. She is small, she won't take up much space.”
“What will she eat?”
“Mice!”
“Do we have that many mice on board?”
“Yes,” Ellim said. She had evidently stayed to discuss the cat. “I have - “
“Do not tell me we have eaten mice.”
“Then I will not tell you that.”
Maggie knew she should not be surprised, but she had not wanted to know what exactly Ellim had been feeding them.
“Do you not have things to do?” Maggie demanded of her, and Ellim took the hint and walked off. “If I tell you that you cannot keep the cat,” she asked Doren, “will you get rid of it?”
“No.”
“You could have smuggled it on board and I would not have known.”
“I know. I thought you might want to meet her.” She held up the cat so its triangular orange face was mere inches from Maggie's. It blinked its yellow eyes. “You may pet her.”
Maggie had almost no experience with cats. Her mother had kept medium-sized terriers and some of her father's retainers had kept hunting dogs, and one of the masters at the Naval Academy had a pet ferret, but while she had known people who had kept pet cats, she herself had never spent much time with them. She had heard of military (and merchant) ships with domesticated animals on board, but she had likewise never sailed on one. So a cat on the Black Lightning was unusual and unexpected.
It was not bad luck to have a cat on board, but she had never heard that it was good luck either. And pirates, as she had told the priest, were a superstitious bunch of people. If a cat was not bad luck, there was no reason Doren would not want it on board.
“Fine,” Maggie conceded. “You may keep the cat.”
“I would have kept her anyway.” The cat mewed, as if it knew they were talking about it.
“But must you call her Dawn? It is a ridiculous name.”
“She was born at sunrise. That is what she is called.”
“If you insist. But put her somewhere, and soon – I wish to set sail before the tide goes back out.”
Maggie went off to find Abna and get a report on the state of the ship and the crew and to briefly discuss any changes to the Articles of Association, and then she found Yora to ask about the guns, and then she literally ran into one of the boys who had created so much relationship drama on the last voyage – she was just climbing up the hatch from the gun deck and he was trying to climb down. She was surprised to see him, but not surprised to look past him and see his on-and-off-again lover right behind him.
She had just over a hundred pirates on board, and according to Abna there were going to be more. She didn't want to wait for them, but she didn't want to set sail until she had as big a crew as she could get. She paced up and down the deck, thinking and planning and trying to frame her goals in a way that would most excite the crew. Abna climbed up from the hold and paced with her.
“Do you need something?” Maggie asked.
“The hold is as full as it is going to be,” Abna answered. “I have made a head count and we have a hundred and nineteen so far. There should be another thirty or so. No fights so far. There is a cat in the hold, did you know that?”
“Its name is Dawn and Doren brought it to catch mice and to keep the crew company.”
“How odd.” Abna shrugged. “As long as it does not terrorize the chickens or get into the rum, I do not expect it to be a problem.”
Someone hailed the ship from down on the dock, and Maggie and Abna peered over the gunwale to see who it was.
“Your priest is here,” Abna commented unnecessarily. Maggie could tell that she was smirking.
“He is not my priest. He told me he wished to come with us. I told him not to.”
“What can he do? I do not remember him having much of a talent for piracy.”
“He does not. He was a priest – do you imagine he will be able to fight and kill in the search for plunder? He will be useless until we are on land again.”
“Well, maybe not that useless.” Abna glanced at Maggie and leered. Maggie ignored her.
The priest hailed the ship again, apparently demanding the gangplank be lowered so he could come aboard. Someone lowered it for him and he trotted up and onto the main deck. He waved at Maggie and Abna and threaded his way through the milling crowd on deck. He was nearly run over by a girl chasing one of the chickens which had gotten out, and the sight of the priest backtracking in an attempt to not trip over the chicken or slam into the girl made Maggie and Abna both laugh.
“Permission to come aboard, captain,” he said once he reached them. He saluted.
“It is a little late for that, priest,” Maggie told him, “as you are already aboard. Why are you saluting me?”
“Are you not captain of this ship?”
“Do you not know that pirates salute no one? I told you that you knew nothing about us and look, you have proven me right.”
“Shall I show him belowdecks?” Abna asked. “Or will he be sharing your cabin?”
“Oh, be quiet,” Maggie said irritably. “He will not be sleeping with me or anyone else on this voyage. Do not pout at me, priest. We have had this conversation so many times it is not worth repeating.” She turned to Abna. “As soon as your other pirates have arrived, gather everyone on the quarterdeck for the Articles, and once they have all signed we will set sail. And you,” she pointed a finger at the priest, “find Yora and make yourself useful. If you are down on the gun deck you will not have to worry about what to do when we capture a ship.”
She remembered suddenly something he had told her on the previous voyage, after a storm has caused half the crew to go down with a flu, himself among them – he had called the Black Lightning a death barge and insisted he had never been so miserable as he was on board the ship.
“Do not insult my ship,” she told him now, “and do not tell me how wretched you are. Remember that you have chosen to be here. You will sign the Articles with everyone else, you will abide by them, and you will accept that you have become a pirate.”
“And you remember that in my heart I am still a priest.” He grinned at her, and for a brief second she wanted to smack that grin off his face. He was doomed to alternately test her patience and please her, and she did not want him on her ship, under her command.
“If you cannot pull your weight like every other person on this ship, I will put you overboard. Do not think that your enthusiasm in bed will save you.”
And she walked off before he could say anything more.
It was another hour or so before the last of the pirates that Abna had promised arrived on the ship. Maggie read out the Articles, the whole crew signed, and the Black Lightning weighed anchor and sailed out of the harbor and away from Port Doras and the (however slight) influence of law and civilization.
They were not two days out of port before Abna had to intervene in an argument between two pirates. (Oddly enough, not the two boys.) She (and Maggie) never did determine what the argument had been about, but since the two pirates had both drawn blood, she administered three lashes to each and gave them a good talking-to.
Two days after that, they were at each other's throats again, and Abna tied one to the foremast in the bow and the other to the mizzenmast in the stern, and left them there for a day and a half. They were allowed neither rum nor food, and this time Abna learned that they had fought over the bets in a game of dice.
“I cannot take their dice away,” she confessed to Maggie, “but I did confiscate their winnings.”
“Keep it,” Maggie said.
“I intended to.”
They were leaning against one of the cannons on the forecastle, on the port side. The sun was an hour or so past midday and the sea was still. There was a breeze, but not a very strong one. All around them pirates lazed about on deck, chatting, napping, playing cards or throwing dice, carving little bits of things, drinking, enjoying the peace and quiet. Maggie hoped there was a ship in their future, something to capture, something to test their mettle and boost her reputation. She wished to capture a navy vessel, it did not matter whose navy, but navy ships did not often travel alone and she knew the Black Lightning and her crew were not quite up to the task of taking more than one ship at at time, especially an armed navy ship.
But oh, how she wanted one. A captured navy frigate would sell for quite a bit – and more if she sold off the cannon separately, once she had taken the guns she wanted - or she could use it to gain the favor of another pirate captain and crew, to trade it for goodwill and support and future favors if she should need them. She could hold it for ransom. It would put her name on yet another wanted list, but she knew that by now she was wanted by every sea-going government on the continent, never mind the islands and the colonies to the west. She had harried enough merchant ships in her day. But now she wanted a military ship.
Perhaps she could ask the priest to pray for her to find one, and then to pray for its swift and successful capture. Yes, she would do that.
He flatly told her no, he could not ask his god for such a thing.
“Then what good are you?” she wanted to know. “Of what use is your god?”
“I minister to a person's spiritual needs, not her materialistic wants.”
“You are on my ship in a priestly capacity, are you not? My spiritual needs would be met if I could but capture a navy vessel.”
“The rest of the navy will come after you.”
“Every navy already wants my head. Why do you think I am going to raise my own?”
And that was something to think about, when she had nothing else to occupy her time. She had a notebook already half-full of ideas and diagrams and plans and potential outcomes, lists of fellow captains whose assistance she thought she might need and calculations as to how many of their pirate crews would do to capture and sack any cities that opposed her. She added to those notes, now, and she drafted speeches designed to convince other pirates to bring their own ships and join her, things she might say to her own crew, letters she could send to the king-in-exile and his supporters in Essanay and other places to let them know what she was planning and how much and what kind of help she wished to offer. She talked to Abna and Doren and Yuna and anyone who would discuss it with her, and she tried to listen to their concerns and address their questions.
Two weeks into their quest, her desire was surprisingly rewarded with a lookout up in the rigging sighting a navy frigate flying the Usurper's flag and sailing alone. Abna suggested that there was likely a reason the frigate was sailing solo, and while Maggie agreed, she also did not care. A quick vote among the crew, and they raised the Black Lightning's black flag and set the sails to chase the Usurper's ship.
The Black Lightning was fast, but the navy frigate was faster, and it seemed that Maggie's ship would be outrun. She resisted the urge to scream “Faster!” at Severein and Doren and the riggers. She wished the Black Lightning had been built or at least adapted for rowers.
She practically hung off the bowsprit over the prow of her ship, straining after the navy frigate, even sending up a series of desperate prayers to the priest's god. She wanted this vessel so very badly. She needed it for her future, for her reputation and her still-theoretical navy. She wanted the flag for her collection. She wanted the cannon and the cannonballs and the powder for the Black Lightning's gun deck and more than anything else she wanted to overpower the Usurper's sailors and take the frigate for her own.
She knew the sailors would put up a terrific fight. She was looking forward to it.
But it was not to be. The navy vessel had been ahead of them and either it was either faster or lighter or the sailing master on board was more skilled than Severein. In any case, the Black Lightning chased it for nearly two days before losing it completely. Maggie was disappointed and furious and she wanted to hit something, or someone. But it would not do for her to get in a fight with any of her crew, and the priest wisely made himself scarce so she could not pick a fight with him either.
She stormed up and down the main deck, and Severein took his orders from Abna and turned the Black Lightning west.
“There will be other ships,” Doren said after a day had passed and Maggie had calmed down. “It has only been a couple of weeks. We will keep searching.”
Maggie discovered the priest in her cabin that night and ordered him out before he could say a word. He had no doubt intended to offer her some comfort or advice or who knew what, but she did not want to talk to him. She was no longer so furious but she still did not need to hear that the navy frigate was not the last ship they would see, and that they would find other vessels to capture and plunder. And she did not have the patience for his inevitable sarcasm and his attempt to draw her into bed.
The Black Lightning did not encounter another navy ship, but they did overtake and overpower a merchant ship with a trading company flag. There were several soldiers on board, and all the sailors were well armed, and they put up a fierce fight when Maggie's pirates swung aboard their ship. Most of the sailors were either killed or so badly wounded that they would not survive, and all of the soldiers had been wounded in one way or another. Maggie ran one of them through with her sword, and when he toppled over with the force of it she had to plant her boot on his chest to yank her sword out of his body. He was not dead, and managed to grab her leg and try to pull her down with him. She lashed out with her sword again, catching him in the shoulder, and swung her leg towards his face in an effort to wrench it out of his grip.
Suddenly someone slammed into her from the side, bearing her to the floor, and she heard a pistol go off not five feet away.
“Get off!” she yelled, shoving at the body now lying on top of her, and was rewarded with a breathless and slightly indignant “I saved your life”. The person who had pushed her over rolled off her, stood, and offered her a hand. It was Viga, the tall rigger, blood on her face from a slice across her cheek, her shirt torn and bloody but her hand steady. She pulled Maggie to her feet.
“I apologize,” Maggie said. “Thank you.” She clapped Viga on the shoulder, turned on her heel, and struck out at he sailor who had apparently tried to shoot her.
After it was over, and the remaining soldiers and sailors had been subdued, Abna took some pirates and searched the ship for booty, making note of what there was and what it was worth. Maggie stalked among the wounded merchant crew, dispassionately dispatching those who were near death and would not survive. She had someone pull down the merchant ship's flag. She did not offer the remaining merchant crew a choice, but directed them wounded and all into one of the ship's cockboats after it had been lowered into the water. She would not longer show mercy to the crews of captured ships, and considering where the merchant ship and the Black Lightning were and that the remnants of the merchant crew did not receive any food or water, putting them overboard could not be called mercy.
Abna had all the worthwhile booty loaded onto the Black Lightning, and then they sank the merchant ship. It had yielded casks of rum, tropical birds, live geese, and a small trunk of silver and jewels. The pirates broke open the rum, which was better quality than the rum they carried in the hold, and they celebrated their successful capture for the rest of the day and long into the night.
Maggie was surprised – and she hated to admit it, a bit disappointed – that the priest chose not to visit her that night and drunkenly try to sleep with her. She would not change her rule for him or anyone, but now that she had been with him, she knew what she was missing. But so did he.
A storm a few days later succeeded in ripping some of the sails and cracking two of the yards, the cross masts that held the sails. Cannon shuddered on the gun deck and up on the main deck, untied ropes whipped around in the wind, and pirates stumbled back and forth as the ship pitched and rolled. No one washed overboard, although they lost some of the chickens which were being kept on the forecastle, but when the storm blew over – or they sailed through it – and inventory was taken of the damage, it was clear that the Black Lightning would have to find safe harbor for repairs.
Maggie fumed inwardly – this was a detour she did not need, time she did not want to take – but there was nothing to be done. She could not sail a ship with damaged rigging. Doren reported that there were leaks in the hold, but it seemed as if there were always leaks in the hold, and Yona complained that one of the gun port covers had been ripped off in the wind. Maggie thought it more likely that the hinges had given way and the cover had simply fallen off from neglect, but in either case it needed to be replaced.
Severein tried to find their location on his charts, and then he tried to find the nearest island, and Maggie was sure that a lookout sighted land by sheer luck.
They could not anchor offshore, as they had on the last voyage when an unstable hull had necessitated stopping for repairs, but beaching the Black Lightning was a tricky business. Luckily the crew was up to the task, and once the ship was safely beached, the crew went to work clearing debris off the deck and collecting saws and other equipment with which to prepare new yards for the sails.
They stayed on the island almost a week, working, resting, filling up on tropical fruit and the occasional crab and the wild pigs that roamed through the interior. The crabs were tasty when roasted over a fire, but so much trouble to eat that unless there were a lot of them, no one bothered to catch them. The pigs were a challenge to catch and took a long time to cook properly, but once fully roasted they were delicious and could feed far more people than a batch of crabs. Besides, by now the pirates were starved for fresh meat, especially the kind of meat that ran on four legs rather than scuttled on six.
The beach where they had stopped was on the western side of the island, and every dusk Maggie stopped whatever she was doing or saying or thinking to watch the sun sink into the water. It streaked the sea with silver, so bright she had to shade her eyes, before dropping below the horizon in a shivering ball of orange and red. The morning mist brought rainbows, single and double, the colors sometimes very clearly defined but more often than not merely fuzzy arcs against a blue-white sky, one end dropping into the water and the other hidden behind mountains and trees.
The beach was narrow and rocky, just long enough for the Black Lightning and the lengths of tree trunks with which the pirates shaped new yards. At night, small fires strung along the narrow strip of sand marked groups of pirates trying to cook and to see enough to play cards and gamble. There were a few fights, as there always were, but Abna administered punishment when necessary and no more blood was spilled than usual.
There were quite a few cases of illness due to eating unripe fruit, and even two deaths. Shortly after their arrival, several of the pirates trekked deep into the island's jungle and returned bearing a load of fruit, some of it with tough rinds and some already split open. The split fruit had already fallen from the trees, the pirates explained, but did not look or smell rotten, and more importantly did not need to be opened with a cutlass.
But some of the fruit that was still intact turned out to be fatally poisonous, as the crew discovered a few days later, after severe cramps and stomach upset turned into vomiting, jaundice, and convulsions, and left two pirates dead. Maggie had the bodies wrapped in spare pieces of sail so that when the ship was finally repaired and back at sea, the crew could tip them overboard for a proper pirate burial.
The priest said a few words over the bodies after they had been wrapped and laid out on the sand. Not all the pirates attended this small service, but the ones who did were quiet and respectful. Maggie was there, of course, and while she did not necessarily think the dead pirates would have wanted a man of the cloth to lead a funeral service over their bodies, she had never thought funerals were for the dead anyway, and if it gave the priest some comfort, and if it gave the attending pirates some peace, to have such a service, who was she to deny them?
It did not escape her notice that the priest seemed to become more and more priestly, and less and less piratical, as the days wore on. She remembered what he had said the last time they were beached on a deserted island, the way he had confessed that he no longer knew his path and that he did not think he could worship his god and practice his faith without the structure that his church provided. She remembered too that she had told him he could pray anywhere, that he did not need a church's guidance to show him how to love his god. She wondered when he had changed his mind – on board her ship, in Port Doras, in the past few days? Or was this all a show, designed to convince the pirates – and her, perhaps – that he was indeed a priest, defrocked or no, and he had meant it when he claimed to have joined the crew so that he could take care of their spiritual needs.
“You are no longer merely a priest in your heart,” she said to him later that night. He had wandered away from the fires on the beach and had planted himself on a flat rock just inside the edge of the jungle. From this vantage point he could see up and down the beach a ways, over and past the heads of the pirates sitting and lying around the closest fires. “You are a priest in fact. You are a church of one. How does it feel?”
“It feels very strange,” he said softly, looking out over the narrow beach at the water. “I can recite the appropriate words at the appropriate times, and I know in my heart that I am speaking to God, but I do not know if He is listening to me. I do not know if He can hear. Before, when I was... when I still belonged to my church, I knew He was listening. He always listened to us. But now? I do not know. I am one man, and He is used to listening to many.”
“But you did speak to Him. You do want Him to hear.”
“I did. I do. I am perhaps forging my own path after all. But I do not know.”
“When you lead the funeral service, did it give you any comfort? Did it feel as if it were something you should be doing?”
“It was not to comfort me.” He turned to look at her. The quarter moon did not offer enough light to clearly see his face. “So I cannot say. But I came on board your ship as a priest – I listened when you said I was still a man of God in my heart and that I could still find a way to demonstrate that, and I listened to myself say that I still loved God and still wished to worship Him – and I gave it much thought in Port Doras, how I might accomplish that. I will have to teach myself what to do. I do not know how, and I am still afraid I will not be able to speak to God in such a way that He will hear me – I am afraid I will never recreate the structure that worked for me, that gave me such guidance – I am afraid, Maggie. I am afraid all the time that I will never build the path to God that I need, or that I can share with others. But I am trying.”
She felt a wave of affection for him, for the way he spoke to her. He trusted her. Well, he had said he was in love with her, so she should not be surprised. But he did not seem to wish to hide anything from her, when they were alone and he could unburden himself. And she was proud of him, unfamiliar as that was, because she had given him advice and he had taken it, because he had looked deep in himself to find the answers he sought.
She almost wished to pay him back in kind, to tell him something deep and true about herself, something she had not told another person, something important to her conception of herself. But what could she tell him that he did not already know? She was in her heart still a captain of the Royal Navy, although the navy served the king-in-exile and not the Usurper or even her predecessor, but the priest knew that. She was going to raise her own navy, but he knew that too. She was not afraid of what lay in her future, she knew the next few steps to achieve her goal, she was confident in what she was doing.
And she liked him, but she still did not love him.
So she did not know what to offer, what to give him to show him how she felt.
“I do not want to talk about this again,” he said, so quietly she almost did not catch the words.
“Why not?”
“I want to be sure. The next time you ask me about my faith and my practice, I want to tell you what I am doing and that I know it brings me closer to God. I would tell you that I am no longer lost, that I found my way out of the darkness. And I cannot do that yet, so I do not wish to talk about it.”
“Then I will not ask you again.” She took his hand. “I think I am proud of you, priest. I do not think I have a right to be, but I am proud that you have come to this conclusion about yourself. I am proud that you have determined who and what you are, and that you may yet find a way to be that man.”
She would no doubt still find reasons to tease him, and things to joke about, but for now, she could be serious. She could tell him how she felt, and be honest with him as he had been honest with her.
“Do you regret that I followed you after all?” he asked.
“Why would I?”
“Because I still cannot fight or sail. I am still no use to you while we are on your ship.”
Maggie shrugged. “So far it has not mattered. When we catch up to a navy vessel – and we will catch one, I swear it – then I will expect you to help capture it and subdue its crew. You signed the Articles, you know what is expected of you. But you have not gotten in the way. And I will kick you out of my cabin every time, but I am not sorry to see your face.”
He leaned closer and kissed her. And she wished fiercely that she had never insisted on her one rule, that she had never demanded men and women stay away from each other on board her ship. But she could kiss him back, that was nothing, and so she did.
They sat that way for many minutes, just kissing. Finally the priest pulled away, brushed his thumb across her lower lip, and sighed.
“You will not sleep with me here,” he said.
“No. I cannot. I want to. I want you to know that under any other circumstance, I would. But not while we are still at sea. We are not even heading home. And so I am sorry, I cannot tell you how very sorry I am, but I will not.”
“But you want to.”
“Very badly.”
“You are a pirate. You are Red Maggie, captain of the Black Lightning, a woman without country who is subject to no laws. Is that not what pirates do – break the rules?” His face was very close to hers. If she were to flick out her tongue, she could lick his lips. The urge was strong, but she resisted.
“But this is my rule. I will not break my own rule. If I do, then I am no example, and all the pirates who sail with me will feel free to do the same. I must have at least this much order.”
“You must be in control.” His lips brushed hers. She felt him smile. She remembered leading as they danced at the Green Serpent, and she remembered leading when she took him up to her rooms in the inn and undressed him and straddled him and guided him through both his pleasure and hers.
Yes, she liked to be in control. It was the only way things would get done the way she wanted or needed.
He kissed her again, more insistent than before. His mouth tasted faintly of juicy tropical fruit, with a slight undertone of crab. Of course he would enjoy the crabs – they were difficult to crack open and devour.
“What can you do?” he murmured against her lips. “If you will not sleep with me, what will you do? What will you allow me to do to you?”
“You may kiss me once more.”
So he did. And again after that, and after that, and after that, until she was nearly sitting in his lap to get closer to his mouth. He had learned how to kiss, she noticed, and she wondered if that was all because of her, or if he had found other women to practice on in Port Doras. She did not care. She was not jealous where he was concerned.
“We cannot keep doing this,” she said. “I cannot.”
“If we crept off into the jungle....”
“People would know. There are no secrets on my ship, priest. Already someone knows we have been sitting here kissing.”
“But that does not break any rules.”
“No, it does not. But I cannot do more. If you make me I will push you off, and if you insist I will hurt you.” She did not think he could see the seriousness on her face, but he could easily hear it in her voice.
“Then we will stop,” he said meekly. “I am sorry.”
“Do not apologize, priest. But do not press me either.”
He did not make the innuendo she was expecting. For a priest and a newly-renewed man of God, he was remarkably earthy. Perhaps that would be part of his new personal doctrine, that one could be a good and faithful clergyman and yet indulge in the pleasures of the flesh. Maggie was a bit impressed that he could profess his love for God and his desire for the formal structures of churchly faith, and yet profess his love for her and his desire for her body.
She shifted off and away from him and they sat there in silence, watching the fires burning lower on the beach and the stars glittering far above. The priest reached for Maggie's hand and just held it.
“Do you know, you do not seem to mind that I keep calling you 'priest',” she said. “Even though that is how you think of yourself now. You do not mind that I have never called you by name.”
And he had told her his name, one night in Port Doras. But she had never used it.
“It is a term of affection, is it not?” he said. “At least, that is how I hear it.”
“That is how I mean it, most days. I may give you grief but I do like you. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” He leaned into her shoulder and she put her arm around him. She turned her head and pressed her lips to his temple, through his hair. “You will take me with you when you raise your navy,” he said. “I will stand by your side.”
She had to laugh. The thought of the priest standing next to her as she made her case before the various pirate captains, as she gathered a council and plotted their course, as she sailed into battle and jumped aboard enemy ships swinging her sword and firing her pistol – he was so unsuited for those things that she could not keep a straight face. Priest or no, he was not a fighter. She had known that almost as long as she had known him.
“Do not laugh,” he said, sounding injured. “I meant it. I will stand beside you as long as you need someone to do so.”
“But that is the thing, priest. I do not need anyone to stand beside me. I will stand or fall on my own, and whether other pirates follow me or not is on my own head.”
“I will still go with you.”
“So you say. I believe this is some way off in the future. I have a reputation to improve, first. I must make myself into the kind of person that other pirate captains will follow.”
“You will do it.”
“You have faith in me?” Her voice was light, teasing.
“I do.” His voice, in comparison, was quite serious.
“Come back down to the beach with me. We will find a spot at someone's fire and we will sleep with the heat at our backs. I feel a chill up here, and I wish to be with my crew.”
She got to her feet and held out her hand to him, and after a minute he took it. They climbed down the rock and made their way back to the beach, where the pirates' fires were dying down and the pirates themselves were dropping off to sleep. Maggie and the priest found room near one of the fires by the simple expedient of waking Doren enough to make her move, and then they both lay down, shifting around until the priest's head was resting on Maggie's shoulder, and that way they both fell asleep.
It took another two days to make the Black Lightning ready to sail, but as soon as the yards had been replaced and the sails repaired and any holes in hold patched, they pushed her back into the sea, boarded her with a load of island fruit and two pigs' worth of dried meat and the wrapped bodies of the two dead pirates, unfurled the sails, and pulled away from the island. Once out into deeper waters, they heaved the bodies overboard as was pirate custom, with Maggie as captain saying a few words as was navy custom. And then life on board returned to normal.
Fortune smiled on them again after a time, on this occasion with a merchant ship and a small naval escort. An armed military escort meant that the merchant ship was carrying something valuable indeed, and a navy vessel was the prize Maggie had been searching for. The crew voted nearly unanimously to chase them both down, and this time the Black Lightning managed to get close enough to demand the ships' surrender.
The merchant ship and the navy ship both flatly declined to surrender, as Maggie knew they would, so she gave the order to turn about so that the Black Lightning's cannon were in better position to fire. They had come up along the merchant ship, on the side away from the navy ship, on the theory that the merchant ship would be easier to overpower, and would also serve as protection from the navy ship's guns. But the merchant ship was also carrying its own complement of armed military men, who proved difficult to overpower – especially once the sailors on board the naval vessel jumped aboard to assist - and were overwhelmed only by the sheer number and viciousness of the Black Lightning's crew.
But it was a hard, close fight, and at the end of it the military men were not the only ones who had been killed. Maggie's crew separated out their dead and wounded from the others, and then Maggie had the military survivors summarily executed. And then both ships were hers.
“Take the naval vessel,” she told Abna, who did not need to be told twice. But first she took her women through the merchant ship to collect its treasure, which was indeed precious – not just barrels of rum and sugarcane and piles of dyed linen fabric, but also chests of coins and jewels and tightly-bound stacks of exotic island woods. Maggie wanted to roll around in it. She wanted to dig her hands into the chests, pull up handfuls of coins, and throw them in the air to shower down on her head.
And she had captured a military ship. It was not a large ship, but she did not care. She would take the weapons that she could, the gunpowder and swords and pistols and shot, and she would take the flag, and she would sink it.
The Black Lightning fired its guns on one side of the merchant ship and the naval ship with Abna at the helm fired its guns on the other, and after the merchant ship was reduced to kindling, the Black Lightning drew closer to the military ship so the pirates on board could jump across, and then Yora ordered the guns to fire again, and the military vessel caught fire during the bombardment and sank below the surface.
Maggie could have burst with pride and accomplishment. And they had retrieved a lot of treasure. They mourned and buried their dead after their fashion, and then it was time to celebrate.
The party lasted all day, all night, and into the next morning. There were several fights, as was to be expected on a ship full of suddenly wealthy pirates given unfettered access to a number of newly-acquired barrels of rum. It occurred to Maggie that perhaps they should not attempt to drain the barrels they had just captured – they should not drink all their profits – but she never expected to resell the rum from the merchant ship anyway, and besides, this was how pirates were paid. This was how she would keep them – with goods and gold and rum, and when those were scarce, with the promise of more.
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total words: 30,717
quickie thanks to
dear_tiger for tropical island and poisonous fruit info.
