by John Locke
“The selling of wives never came up. Marrying the girl you impregnated never came up. I’ll suggest in your world the only thing that comes up is your prick, sir.”
Jack didn’t know what to say. Up to now, his experience with women had been confined to whores and platonic friendships. Well, there had been a brief fling with a female pirate a few years back, but that encounter served to hurt his dignity more than it offered insight into the workings of a proper woman’s mind. Jack didn’t remember much of what happened that night in Tortola with the female pirate, except that she’d been rough enough to blush a whore. Now, years later, people still told the tale of Jack Hawley and Dorothy Spider’s sexual congress. There was even a popular song composed to commemorate the occasion, which is why to this day Jack refused to dock in Tortola.
“Henry?”
Dorothy had been a savage pirate and fierce bar brawler whose face bore the marks of many battles. While not pirating, she lived in Tortola with a famously fat female tattoo artist named Helen, who lovingly covered Dorothy’s battle scars with tattoos. By the time she finished, Dorothy’s face looked so much like a spider web that Helen decided to continue etching, to complete the theme. It was right around that time that Dorothy Spider caught Jack in her web during a misguided moment of high heat and heavy drink on his part, and the rest, as they say, is legend.
“Henry,” Abby persisted. “Whatever is on your mind? Do you not see me lying on the ground with my legs bent? Is this not why we came to the bushes? So you could spread a little more seed while considering whether or not to abandon me? Perhaps you can thrust hard enough to give me twin bastards to rear on my own. Oh, please do! It will be fun to have this lovely memory in my head in the years to come when my stepfather violates my body and pounds my eyes with his fists.”
This visit wasn’t turning out quite the way Jack had envisioned during the ride over. The beautiful, shy and charming Abby Winter had somehow turned into what Pim and his mates would at best call a saucy wench. But he had to admit, the view she currently afforded him was an outstanding one, and if Abby meant to give him a ride while angry, maybe she’d give him even better rides in the future if he could find a way to keep her happy.
And so it was with these thoughts that he smiled and dug in and tried not to think of Dorothy Spider.
Chapter 11
PIM WOKE TO the chatter in the street. He looked around and realized he’d failed to make it to the lodging house and had instead passed out in the street, where he’d thrown up at least once, and rolled around numerous times in raw sewage. He knew not what time it was, but the auction hadn’t started yet, and he was eager to get a front row seat. Checking his pockets and money pouch to make sure he hadn’t been robbed, he mentally calculated the worth of a used wife and decided he had money to spare.
But wait—had he imagined it?
He got to his feet and went to the post where he’d seen the sign. In the light of day he had no problem reading the bulletin:
NOTICE OF A WIFE TO BE SOLD AT NOON
ST. ALBAN’S TOWN SQUARE
SATURDAY, JULY 19, 1710
IN ACCORDANCE WITH ENGLISH LAW THAT PROVIDETH
A MAN MAY SELL HIS WIFE IF HE DO SO IN OPEN MARKET
AND SHE GIVETH HER PERMISSION BY WEARING A HALTER
ROUND HER NECK;
THIS MAN, PHILIP WINTER SHALL SELL HIS WIFE HESTER
IN SUCH A MANNER ON SATURDAY THE 19th of JULY, 1710.
BUYER MUST AGREE TO ACCEPT HESTER WINTER AS SHE BE,
WITH ALL HER FAULTS.
Pim wanted to make himself more presentable by jumping in the river or ocean, whichever was closer, but after inquiring the time from a horrified passerby, he was afraid he’d miss the auction. He went to the nearest house and knocked on the door and offered to pay a half-crown for a basin of water.
“That’s a fair price for the basin,” the woman allowed, “but where would I get another? You’ll have to try someone else.”
“I’d be buyin’ only the water in the basin, Mum.”
“What? Are you daft? Be gone, or I’ll call my husband.”
Pim produced the coin.
“I’ve only got used water,” she said.
“How used?”
“Two days worth. But it’s a full basin. You want it?”
“Aye, and a rag to scrub with.”
The lady of the house eyed Pim closely, scrunched her nose and said, “Is that vomit in your beard?”
“Aye, Mum.”
“Well in that case you may keep the rag. I wouldn’t want to touch it after you’ve used it.”
“You’re too kind.”
“I’d rather bring a horse turd into my home.”
“Yes, Mum. Thank you.”
Pim did what he could with the basin of used water, though it smelled worse to him than he did. When he got to the town square he sat on a rock and waited for Captain Jack, whom he sensed was drawing near. Ten minutes later Jack Hawley was standing over him, chewing him out.
“Are you insane? If they see you here they’ll lock you up!”
“I’m not a pirate no more, Cap’n.”
“What?”
“My sweet Darla’s dead, and I’m gonna buy this wife what’s bein’ sold today.”
This was shaping up to be Jack’s most interesting shore leave ever. He tried to picture Abby Winter’s mother marrying the wild and wooly pirate, Mr. Pim. An unintended smile crossed his face.
“What’s so funny?” Pim growled.
“Easy, man. I’m sorry for your loss. I never met Darla, but I know she was special to you. I meant no offense by the smile. It’s just the thought of you settling down. Pim: a landlubber!”
Pim nodded. Then said, “You know this woman what’s to be sold today?”
“I don’t, though I suspect she’ll be happy to marry a kind-hearted soul such as yourself.”
“Thank you, Jack. I’m not picky. I’m sure she’ll do.”
Jack looked him over. “You’re sober?”
“Mostly. I think.”
“Good. Looks like you had a rough night pining for Darla.”
“Aye. And I drank some, too.”
“And coughed some back, by the look of it.”
“Aye.”
“You need some money?”
“Why, thank you Cap’n, but no, I did no whorin’ so I’m flush.”
“Well, do me a favor and act like you know me not.”
A hurt expression creased Pim’s face.
Jack said, “I’m not ashamed to be in your company, but if some townie recognizes you, they’ll lock us both up and I won’t be able to rescue you.”
Pim nodded. “Aye, you always was a smart one, Cap’n.”
“And Mr. Pim?”
“Aye?”
“I’m proud to have served with you.”
Pim’s eyes moistened. “It’s been an honor, Jack.”
“Good luck man.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Chapter 12
Wife selling always followed the same public ritual. The wife—in this case, the gray-faced but comely Hester Winter, was led into town by her husband Philip with her hands bound and a halter around her neck. In most cases, wife selling was a spur of the moment decision, and the husband had to make a big noise to draw a crowd. But the enterprising Philip had thought to post notice of his upcoming sale, and so the town square was packed with leering men, derisive women, and ill-mannered children, most of whom shouted profanities and vulgar insults at Hester.
As Philip got his wife onto the auction block, he displayed a wide, shit-eating grin and bade the crowd to gather near, since he was preparing to take bids. Hester’s eyes searched the crowd, hoping to spot Thomas Griffin, but there were too many people. From behind her, a crude boy of about nine jumped onto the block and lifted the back of her skirt with one hand and held his nose with the other as his friends hooted and jeered. Philip laughed and swatted at the boy in a playful manner, which did nothin
g to dissuade him from raising Hester’s dress again, and higher. Soon, half a dozen brats were taking turns spanking her rump Finally Philip called an end to the abuse.
“Who’ll offer me a crown?”
“Does her privates work?” one man shouted.
Hester squeezed her eyes shut and reminded herself a better life was moments away.
“Her privates?” Philip said. “They work right well, mate, if your equipment be long enough to reach the prize.” He gave an exaggerated stage wink and received some scattered chortling in return.
“Does she cook?” said another.
“She ain’t the worst I’ve et,” Philip said.
“How much discount are you offering for that face?” the fishmonger’s wife yelled out.
“Already factored in the bidding, Missus. Why, are you interested in marryin’ her yourself?” Philip made a lewd gesture and the crowd laughed.
Hester was thankful Philip had made Abby stay home. Thomas Griffin had obviously changed his mind, and now that she thought about it, why wouldn’t he? He was a respectable businessman with a shop on the far side of the square. If he purchased her he’d be a laughing stock. Hester hadn’t considered that possibility the three times she let him take her behind the counter. Ah well, men lied. What could she do about it now but accept her fate.
“I’ll give the crown,” someone said.
Hester opened her eyes and found the bidder, a young man, twenty at most, with curly brown hair and a lopsided grin that showed some gnarled brown teeth. Half his face was puckered from a fire, and he was missing an ear on that side. But he had broad shoulders and looked strong, and seemed kind.
Hester smiled at him.
“See that, son? She likes you!”
Someone else offered a sovereign, someone Hester couldn’t see from her vantage point. She thought how strange it would be if she wound up married to someone she’d never even seen before.
“How ‘bout it son?” Philip said to the curly haired boy. “Can you beat a sovereign?”
Hester looked at him hopefully. He might not be much to look at, she thought, but she had facial problems of her own, and no right to complain. This boy wasn’t a Thomas Griffin in appearance or property, but he seemed a step above her husband.
The boy looked at Hester with sorrow in his eyes. He mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” and she nodded.
“Don’t that just break your heart folks?” Philip said. “Is there no one here who’ll lend this poor boy a few paltry coins to help him find his true love?”
“Can we work it out in trade?” said a crippled man with a scar on his scalp that was so large and had healed so poorly, it looked like he’d grown a colony of little pink mushrooms on his head.
Hester shuddered.
“Don’t think she likes you, Grady,” Philip said.
The crowd was calm for a moment. Grady’s head had that effect on people.
“How’s her titties?” said a large man with a serious facial tick and a hole where his left eye should have been.
“Well if it ain’t One-Eyed Charlie Fine!” Philip said. “What’re you doin’ in town when all them privateers be in port up yonder?”
“You’ll know soon enough why I’m here and not there,” Charlie Fine said. “But if this iron-headed bitch has titties to make up for that god awful face, she might be worth a piece of eight.”
The crowd murmured with amazement. Pieces of eight were Spanish silver coins of near perfect purity. A piece of eight represented a month of work for a common man of the time.
Philip Winter was stunned by the price. “You figure to put her to work at the whore house?”
“I do, if an eight’ll buy her and her tits be fair.”
Philip Winter licked his lips and looked at his wife. Hester shook her head no. Philip, proving he knew how to work a crowd, said, “Who else here wants to see her tits?”
The crowd went wild and Philip approached his wife.
Before he got there, a shot rang out. Everyone froze for a split-second, then ducked for cover. The man who’d shot his pistol into the dirt looked like a crazed drunk. His fiery red hair was matted with manure and he had enormous red muttonchops that were caked with dried vomit. When he spoke, his voice was gravely but firm.
Charlie Fine’s face went white. He approached Pim and whispered, “What the hell’re you doin’ here?”
“Back off, Charlie,” Pim said. “I ain’t in the business no more, so I’m free to be here.” To the auctioneer, Pim said, “I’ll give you a solid gold Spanish doubloon.”
The crowd jumped to their feet as one, oohing and aahing. Hester searched Pim’s face for guile and his eyes for sanity.
Philip Winter said, “That’s very funny, Mister…what’s your name?”
“My surname’s Pim, and that’s how I’m called. I’ll buy this beautiful woman and treat her like the lady I know she be.”
“Well now, no offense intended, Pim, but you appear to be a common drunk, with no resources, other than a pocket pistol you had no legal right to discharge. Someone haul him out of here.”
Pim held a doubloon high over his head and walked to the edge of the auction block. He held it where Philip could get a good look at the coin. The doubloon was a staggering sum of money, worth sixteen pieces of eight, or sixteen months’ wages for a working man.
“Sold!” Philip said, grabbing the doubloon. “I’d stay and have a drink to celebrate your purchase, but I’ve pressing business back at my house.” He walked behind Hester and pushed her fanny so hard she fairly flew off the platform and into Pim’s arms.
Somewhere above the crowd a girl screamed “No!”
Chapter 13
Jack and Abby Winter had ridden into town on his horse so she could watch her mother be sold. While Jack spoke to Pim, Abby made her way to the lodging house. Now they watched the humiliating spectacle while standing at an open window on the second floor there. When Pim bought Hester, Abby screamed again. Jack tried to calm her down before someone decided to summon the authorities.
“She’s been bought by a homeless drunk!” Abby wailed. “Now what will become of my Mum?”
“She’ll be fine,” Jack said.
“What? Fine? Can you possibly be this stupid? Just look at him down there, trying to talk to her. She must be terrified. See how she turns her face away from his rancid breath.”
Jack was far more concerned about why Charlie Fine was in town. As Abby watched her mother, Jack’s eyes tracked Charlie walking through the crowd, saw him grab the arm of Mayor Shrewsbury’s aide, Barton Pike. When Jack saw Charlie pointing at Pim, he started running.
“Where are you going? Come back!” Abby yelled.
“Don’t move! I’ll be right back,” Jack called over his shoulder.
He hit the stairs running, and made it to the courtyard in seconds. As he passed Pim, he pretended to wave at someone in the square, but said, “Pim, Hester, go to the lodging house. Second Floor. Run!”
Pim grabbed Hester by the arm and said, “Sorry, darlin’, but trouble’s afoot. Run!” They ran across the courtyard with Hester still in the halter with her hands tied. As the gawkers in the crowd watched them run, Jack doubled around the town square and came up behind Charlie and Barton Pike. He followed them as they went around the corner and approached the alley Jack knew would take them to the back entrance of Commander Dowling’s quarters.
Jack followed the men into the alley and called their names. By the time they turned, he was upon them. He plunged a knife into Pike’s rib and raked it sideways. Pike went down quietly, and when he hit the street, he was there to stay. One-Eyed Charlie Fine, by nature a nervous man, began shaking with fear. He fell to his knees and begged for mercy. Jack pulled him behind an empty water barrel.
“I’ll have some information from you,” Jack said, “and quickly.”
“Anything!”
“What are you doing in town? Wait—don’t lie to me.”
Charlie had been abou
t to do just that. Now it didn’t seem sensible.
“The garrison up at Amelia has snuck down and surrounded the pirates.”
“How could pirates get surrounded?”
“They’re drunk and drugged.”
“By the whores?”
Charlie nodded. “The pirates, once gathered, will be held.”
“Where?”
“Top floor of my pub, the Blue Lagoon.”
“Can’t they jump out the window?”
“Window’s too small. Even if they could get out, it’s pretty high. And anyway, they’re guardin’ the back.”
“By how many men?”
“I don’t know.”
“To what purpose are they being held there?”
“They’re going to be hung in my tavern one by one.”
“On the first floor?”
Charlie nodded again.
“When?”
“It’s already started. The rounding up part anyway.”
“What about the pirate ship?”
“They’re sending The Viceroy to attack her.”
“When?”
“At dawn.”
As far as last words go, Charlie could have done worse. Jack made his way to the lodging house and found Abby and her mother whispering to each other. Both seemed dazed and distraught. Pim had gotten the halter off Hester and was working at the binding on her wrists.
Abby said, “Where did you go?”
Catching Pim’s eye, Jack said, “I saw a man I know, and he meant to harm me and Mr. Pim, and some of our friends.”
“Who’s Mr. Pim?”
Pim smiled and gave a half bow.
Abby backed up a step and shuddered. She looked at Jack.
“You actually know this…this person?”
“I do. And he’s a close friend of mine.”
“A friend? How can this be possible?”
Hester abruptly stopped crying and looked at Jack.
“Who are you?” she said. To Abby she said, “And how do you know him?”
“He’s the father of my child,” Abby said.
“He’s what?” Hester’s eyes dropped to Abby’s chest a long moment, then she slapped Jack full force across the cheek. Then she turned and slapped Abby nearly as hard.