by Hank Manley
The Spaniard sensed his superiority over the slighter, weaker, woman. A vicious smile crossed his face. He reared back and prepared to plunge his blade into Anne’s unprotected chest. His sword thrust forward. The tip rushed toward Anne Bonny’s pounding heart.
The sharp point never reached its target. Warren’s axe crashed down on the piercing blade and drove it into the deck between Anne’s trembling feet.
An instant later the tip of Mary’s long sword came to rest on the Spaniard’s throat. A single drop of blood appeared at the man’s neck.
“Cease thy fighting,” Mary said simply. “We be interested in thy booty, not thy life.”
Anne Bonny’s knees wobbled with fright. A sheen of perspiration burst forth on her upper lip. Her stomach roiled, and she tasted bile in her throat. She grabbed the pistol from her waist and pointed it at the helpless Spanish sailor.
“Nay, Anne,” Mary said hastily. “He be defeated. Don’t shoot.”
Anne pulled the trigger on the Blunderbuss. The hammer descended. The flint scratched down the steel frizzon. Sparks flew toward the small quantity of gunpowder in the pan. The powder in the pan flashed and flew through the tiny hole in the pistol toward the full charge of gunpowder in the barrel.
The gunpowder in the barrel failed to ignite.
“Misfire!” Anne cursed.
The Spaniard’s eyes burst wide with amazement. A tortured smile of disbelief crossed his face.
Mary took the Spanish sailor’s sword from his shaking hand and handed it to Warren. She turned to Anne. “Hold thy sword against his neck,” she instructed the fledging pirate. “Not too hard. I vouch this man has had enough of the fight for one day.”
Warren and Mary crossed the deck of the Spanish ship together. A group of three sailors formed a tight half circle and raised their weapons in defiance.
Mary turned her shoulders and advanced on the men, swinging her weapon with dexterity and skill. Warren positioned himself to protect her exposed back. He mimicked Mary’s experienced motions with the sword taken from the first Spaniard.
One of the Spanish sailors thrust his weapon forward and challenged Warren. The young pirate watched the man’s eyes as Mary had instructed during their many hours of practice while sailing from Nassau.
The Spaniard swung his blade from his right shoulder.
Warren curled his sword over his opponent’s weapon and swept it away so that it was no longer a threat.
The Spanish sailor countered with a slash from his left shoulder, slicing the weapon backhand toward Warren’s right side.
Warren looped his sword under the oncoming weapon and snapped his wrist upward. His blade locked beneath his foe’s sword. He raised his arm quickly. Warren’s clever, powerful thrush surprised the Spaniard. The merchant sailor’s weapon jumped from his grasp and flew into the air, landing harmlessly on the deck with a clatter.
Mary skillfully parried two half-hearted thrusts by the other men. “Ye be no sword fighters,” she said simply. “Cease thy efforts and live another day.”
The men dropped their weapons.
Around the main deck, the rest of the Spanish sailors retired their swords. Captain Calico Jack’s pirates gathered the weapons and began to transfer them to Vanity across a plank that had been laid between the two vessels.
Conchshell was the first to cross the plank. She dashed to Warren’s side and slid to a halt at his feet. Her tongue hung happily from her mouth as her rapid breathing began to slow. The sounds of the firing cannons and the clashing of steel blade against steel blade had excited the Labrador. She loved the action and the thrill of the two ships slamming together to join in battle.
But the dog was most happy to find her best friend and master alive and well after the encounter.
~35~
Warren and Mary sat on Vanity’s main deck with their backs against the forecastle bulkhead. The pirate ship was anchored off Point Negril, Jamaica. The sails were furled and the crew was busy dividing up the huge stash of treasure taken from the Spanish merchant ship.
Sacks of gold coins and doubloons had been discovered in the captain’s cabin. An enormous collection of elaborate necklaces of emeralds and jade were found in a wooded chest hidden in a forward locker. Gold rings and intricate crucifixes were mixed in the rich find. Two dozen barrels of dark rum were also liberated from the Spanish ship before it was released to continue its journey.
The damage to the rear section of the ship was above the waterline and would not impede the ability of the vessel to make way. The Spanish captain might experience some salt spray if the seas built, or some discomfort if rain slanted at a certain angle, but the ship could safely make for a port to effect proper repairs.
The sword Mary had taken from Anne’s foe was lying beside Warren. The young pirate was loathe to part with the spoil of victory which had served him so well in the brief fight with the Spanish sailor.
“I like the feel of this sword,” he remarked to Mary. “Can I keep it? Is it mine now?”
“Aye,” Mary said. “Ye earned it fair and square by thy actions in the battle. No one can doubt the sword be thine to keep. Others in the crew saw ye fight with courage and skill.”
Calico Jack approached the couple with a large leather pouch held in each of his hands. “I be proud of ye both,” he said. “Ye fought bravely and well. This be thy reward for ye efforts. One full share for each of thee.”
Warren took the bulging pouch offered by the captain. He loosened the leather string that gathered the neck closed and stretched the pouch open. Bright flashes of gold gleamed before his eyes. He dipped his fingers into the treasure trove and lifted several large doubloons into the air.
“These are heavy,” he remarked to Mary as he weighed them experimentally in his hand. “They’re beautiful.”
Mary smiled at the young pirate’s obvious excitement with his first share of captured booty. “What else be in thy pouch?” she asked as she stroked Conchshell’s head between the ears. The blonde Labrador was snoozing peacefully beside Mary, her head resting in the young woman’s lap.
Warren sifted through the pouch of coins and withdrew his hand. In his fingers he was holding a ring with a band of gold and an emerald stone set in four tiny prongs. “Look what I have,” he exclaimed. “This is really beautiful. It must have been made for a queen.”
Mary stretched out her hand. “May I see it?” she asked.
Warren placed the precious item in Mary’s palm. “It be beautiful indeed,” she said with wonder in her eyes. “Ye be very lucky with thy share of the bounty.”
“Try it on,” Warren said. “Let me see if it fits your finger.”
Mary slipped the ring on the finger next to her left pinky. The gold band slid past her second knuckle and came to rest snugly in the proper position. She brought her fingers together and held up her hand to admire the gleaming stone. The ring turned at a perfect angle, and a ray of sunshine burst off the emerald and appeared to explode in Mary’s eye.
“It be . . . the most beautiful ring I have ever seen,” she said, stunned by the magnificence of the piece of jewelry. “What will thee do with it?”
Warren looked at Mary for several seconds without answering. He thought she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. She possessed every wonderful characteristic he admired in his mother. Mary was brave and intelligent and kind. She was understanding and helpful. And she loved his dog Shelly, he thought with a small chuckle.
“I want you to have the ring,” he said suddenly. “It belongs on the finger of someone very special, and I think you’re the most special . . .”
“Nay,” Mary said. “Thee must save the ring for someone ye love. It be too beautiful a ring to give away so easily.”
Warren took a deep breath and released a long sigh. He silently repeated Mary’s words . . . �
�for someone you love.” Did he love Mary? Was she truly the one special woman he would cherish all his life? What if he could never return to Serenity Cay? Wouldn’t he want to spend the rest of his days with Mary? He couldn’t imagine finding a woman better or more beautiful.
“Perhaps you could wear the ring for a while,” Warren said. “Just to see if you really like it. It does me no good sitting in my pouch of gold coins.”
Mary lifted her eyes from the ring and focused on Warren’s face. She saw sadness in his expression. Had she hurt his feelings by refusing his offer of the ring? Was the young man beginning to fall in love with her?
Mary struggled with her own feelings. She was physically attracted to Warren. He was a handsome young man who would surely grow into a striking adult. He was brave and adventurous. He was protective and thoughtful. Could she love him? Could she already falling in love with him in spite of their age difference?
“I be proud to wear thy ring for a while,” Mary said. “It be very beautiful, and I thank thee for the kindness.”
* * *
A group of the pirates convinced Calico Jack to open one of the kegs of rum. The captain agreed, especially with the additional urging of Anne Bonny who was anxious to celebrate her first boarding as a pirate.
“Come on, Jack,” Anne pleaded when he showed initial reluctance. “We be rich and we be awash in fine rum. Why bother to steal the swill if we cannot drink it?”
Cups were distributed and the sailors dipped generously into the barrel and began sipping the rewards of their victory.
“I not be interested in sitting in the hot sun and drinking rum,” Mary said to Warren. “Let us go ashore in the dory and walk along the beautiful beach. Perhaps we can find some shells.”
Warren remembered his uncomfortable feeling the morning after drinking rum with his juice in Nassau. “That’s a great idea,” he said. “I’ll ask Captain Jack if we can sail the dinghy ashore.”
With permission granted, Warren and Mary launched the little sailing vessel from Vanity. Conchshell jumped eagerly into the boat, anxious to see what delightful new smells she could experience near the jungle.
Warren hauled on the line that ran up the mast, threaded through a small pulley block, and returned to the tip of the single triangular sail. The sail lifted to the top of the mast. “You sit on that bench seat in the middle,” he said to Mary. “I’ll sit in the stern and handle the tiller.”
“Why are ye taking thy large pouch of coins and thy sword?” Mary asked when she noticed the items at Warren’s feet in the bottom of the dinghy.
“Maybe there are dangerous animals in the jungle,” Warren responded with a feigned savage look. “I would need to protect my lady from harm.”
Mary laughed at the young man’s cleverness. She pointed to the pouch. “And would ye be buying thy lady some fancy clothes from Paris in that same dangerous jungle?”
“No,” Warren answered seriously. “I . . . I guess I just don’t trust all the pirates aboard Vanity. We hardly know them, and I couldn’t think of a good place to hide my coins on the ship.”
Mary grinned sheepishly. She held up her own pouch of coins that she had tied to her waist. “Ye be right not to put faith in that band of scallywags, especially when they be drinking. I’ve seen many fights over the booty after the grog was served.”
* * *
The crisp breeze tugged the little dinghy’s single sail tight against the mast and boom. Warren’s experienced hand steered the rudder, and he trimmed the sail properly until they were scooting along smartly toward the lush green coastline of Point Negril.
“Thee be an excellent sailor,” Mary said admiringly.
Conchshell yipped her agreement.
“I’ve sailed before,” Warren said. His mind switched for a moment back to his little dory which was . . . where? Would he ever see his small vessel again? The young man shook his head to clear the images that threatened to overwhelm him with sad thoughts.
Mary looked ahead at the sparkling white beach. Small waves crested in the shallow water and broke on the sand. Dark patches of coral dotted the area just off shore. “There be a problem landing through the surf and reef?” she asked.
Warren studied the situation for a brief moment. “I don’t think so,” he concluded. “We’ll just zigzag through the coral heads, sail right up to the beach, and tie the boat to a coconut tree. If the tide’s falling, we’ll have to push the boat back into the water, but it’s light enough that the two of us can do it.”
Mary turned and looked back at Vanity resting easily at anchor slightly less than a league off the coast. Individual sailors were too small to distinguish. “I hope thee be right,” she said. “I vouch nobody could see us from the ship without the aid of a spyglass if we needed help.”
“Hang on,” Warren warned as the little dinghy lifted over the first small swell, causing the wave to break and tumble toward the shore in a froth of foamy bubbles. The bow of the sailing craft washed up on the beach and skidded to a halt in the sand.
Mary and Warren stepped into the shallow surf and pulled the dinghy farther on the beach. “We’re here,” Warren said as he stretched the bow line toward the jungle and tied it to the curved trunk of a palm tree.
“The water be so beautiful,” Mary said. “I want to run into the ocean and splash it all over me. I want to dive to the bottom and look at the fish.”
Conchshell leapt over the side of the dinghy and stomped happily in the shallow water.
Warren looked at Mary and smiled at her unfettered joy with the surroundings. He too wanted to plunge into the water and swim around the various rocks and coral heads he had seen as they sailed toward the beach. But . . . he didn’t have a bathing suit. His long, bulky pirate pants would be awkward for swimming. Could he perhaps swim in his underwear?
Mary saw Warren’s hesitation and laughed. Was the young man afraid to swim? No! He was shy, she concluded. He was reluctant to remove his clothing in front of her. Mary looked at Warren’s innocent expression. Her heart flew out to him. She had harbored suspicions that she was falling in love since the events in Charles Town. She suddenly decided it was time to explore her feelings for the young man.
Mary unbuttoned her blouse and set the billowy garment in the dinghy. She had dressed as a woman since leaving Nassau. Her breasts were not wrapped. She stood naked above the waist. Without further hesitation, she stepped boldly out of her long skirt and removed her undergarment.
“Come on,” she called to Warren as she dove below the water’s surface and stroked away from the shore. “The water be wonderful.”
Warren stared at Mary with unabashed amazement. He had never before seen a glorious, mature woman in a state of complete undress. He finally shook his head and shrugged. He looked around the beach and saw it was deserted. What was he afraid of? There was nobody to see him on the shore. Vanity was too far away for the crew to see what was happening on the beach. He had heard occasional nervous titters from older boys and girls about the joys of skinny dipping. How wrong could it be?
The young pirate stripped off all his clothes and threw them in the dinghy. He dashed through the surf and prepared to dive under the water. “Wait for me,” he called to Mary who was waving enthusiastically for him to hurry to her side.
Warren swam with powerful strokes through the gentle swells until he arrived beside Mary. He stopped and stretched toward the bottom. The water was too deep. His toes couldn’t touch. He pressed his legs together and sank until his feet hit the sand, then he shoved off the bottom and sprang back to the surface.
Mary tread water until Warren reemerged. She cupped her hand and pushed her palm across the surface, laughing when the water splattered his face. “I got you,” she giggled. “I got you.”
Warren sipped a full mouthful of ocean water and spit a solid stream at Mary, roaring
with hilarity as she shook her head to ward off the aquatic assault.
“I got you back,” he said. “I got you back.”
Mary wiped her face and burst into laughter. Then her expression turned more serious. She moved closer to Warren and extended her arms to his shoulders. Her eyes bored into his and her lips pursed in preparation.
Warren felt the magnetism of Mary’s desire. He slid his arms beneath her shoulders and encircled her back. He tilted his head and inched his face closer to her waiting mouth. Slowly, tenderly, with heart pounding so loudly he thought Mary might hear and laugh at his nervousness, Warren pressed his lips to hers.
Together, with their chests and hips touching, they slowly sank to the bottom in a tight embrace.
Conchshell barked once in approval and splashed back to the shore. The Labrador understood the two youngsters wanted to be left alone.
~36~
Warren lay on his back and looked up at the fading sun. The afternoon had drained him of energy, but he felt more exhilaration than he had ever experienced in his life.
Conchshell snoozed peacefully in the lengthening shadow of the dinghy. Her fur was matted with sand and salt, but the Labrador was blissful in the company of her master and his wonderful friend.
Mary stood in knee deep water carefully rinsing sand from her body. Her skin glowed with warmth from the sun and her inner fulfillment.
She turned slowly and looked at Warren. Her expression was soft and her face beamed with affection.
Warren shifted his attention to Mary. He smiled with contentment and satisfaction. Suddenly he bolted upright. Panic spread over his face. He pointed toward the ship. “Mary,” he cried. “Who could that be approaching Vanity?”