by R. J. Blain
I’d sailed the same waters with Edward Teach. I’d seen his proud ship on the horizon. Once, I’d had the misfortune of sharing the same air he breathed, and I lived to tell the tale only because he had never learned who I was or which captain I served.
He had thought of me as an amusing wench, one with enough fire and backbone to spit on even him, and he’d dumped me at the first lot of land when he’d been finished terrorizing his crew with the presence of a woman on board.
Where Blackbeard sailed, trouble surely followed in his wake. I’d heard his Queen Anne’s Revenge had been found and pieces of her dredged up from the deeps, but I’d paid the news no mind.
The wise let the dead sleep and ignored a siren’s call.
Like Blackbeard, we had fallen to the British, and the Crown had paid well for the sinking of our ship. At least in one way, we had risen above those aboard Queen Anne’s Revenge.
The British hadn’t taken our captain’s head for all they had taken our lives. She had died with us, and our beautiful frigate had sunk before the British could lay their filthy hands on us and take captives—or heads. Only the curse of the sea had spared my life.
I had journeyed with them to the depths, watching their bodies sink through the currents and be swept away on the tides. One by one, I had brought them back to the Calico so they might sleep together beneath the waves, swearing one day to join them—to rejoin her.
Oh Captain, my Captain.
Three
Over my dead body!
While the museum’s lobby contained treasures of gold and history, the antechambers guided visitors through a history of the high seas, portrayed the nations fighting to be the supreme rulers of the oceans, and showcased the pirate scourges menacing the tides. To those around me, the pistols, the cannons, the emptied kegs of gunpowder, the old jiggers for measuring rum, and the riggings of deceased ships represented the past, artifacts to be admired.
To me, they were memories.
Benny bounced from display case to display case with the enthusiasm of a child let outside to play after a long rain, taking in the exhibit with wide-eyed wonder. No matter how often I thought of him as dumb but sweet, he thirsted to experience the world, something I respected well enough.
I couldn’t remember what had driven me out to sea or how I’d become part of Captain Louisa’s crew, but the wonder of discovering something new on the swelling waves or seeking distant shores never faded. I remembered many of the people represented among the pirates and their hunters. Most knew of Blackbeard, and there were numerous displays dedicated to him and his crew, but lesser-known pirates made a good showing, including the women. While Anne Bonney took the spotlight, some of the more interesting pirate queens from around the world were featured. Of them, Grace O’Malley of Ireland intrigued me. Neither one of us had liked the British, so we may have found common ground in our mutual enemy had we shared the tides.
For her, piracy began as a way to rescue family, something I appreciated although I didn’t understand it. For me, the crew had been my family, and I had no memory of anyone else.
It took us almost two hours to work our way through the maze of rooms dedicated to pirates and the sailors who fought against them. For a small town to hide such a wealth of knowledge astonished me.
I snagged hold of Benny’s sleeve to catch his attention. “Why did they bring this collection here?”
“The main exhibit was located not far from here. That’s part of the reason why. They needed a building large enough for it to fit, close enough to New York City to lure school groups, and access to the ocean.” Benny grinned at me and tipped his hat. “That, plus I own the majority of the artifacts on display in this museum. I wanted them close to home.”
Benjamin Allen, investor and general annoyance with an interest in baking, sometimes managed to surprise me, and when he did, it reminded me of the time I hadn’t watched a boom and got cold-cocked and tossed overboard. My mouth dropped open, and words failed me.
Benny owned the majority of the exhibits within the museum? While he had taken interest in my outfit from last year’s Halloween party, I’d never even suspected he had more than a passing interest in pirates or their history.
“And since we’re on the subject of my collection, wherever did you get that flintlock? May I?”
Saved by the curious man I had always thought was dumb but sweet. Still absorbing the fact I’d been suckered somehow, I mumbled, “Sure.”
I unholstered my pistol and offered it to him. With a practiced hand, Benny inspected the weapon, one of his eyebrows arching as he flipped it over and examined the wood, the bronze, and the steel.
“Dragoon flintlock pistol. I’d date this from somewhere between 1650 to 1720.” Angling the gun in the light, Benny inspected the bronze insets, which coiled around the pistol in the shape of a sea serpent. “Most use a dragon design, but this looks more like a serpent of some sort. Armi Da Fuoco Italiane?”
I weighed the advantages of lying to Benny against the consequences of being caught in a lie. Considering he had correctly identified my pistol’s age and its manufacture, I decided caution would serve me better than my normal bluffing. Then again, unless he’d been there the day Captain Louisa had slammed the oak box on top of the ship’s logs, her flawless face blanched from fury over my display of rebellion, which had resulted in her beloved ship requiring a lot of repairs, he’d never know the truth.
Instead of making me walk the plank, she’d given me a gun, a gift from her lover, a jewel of the sea, along with a warning if I ever did something so stupid again she’d spank me. Of course, she hadn’t expected me to answer her challenge with deliberate infractions, but that was hardly my fault.
She should’ve known not to challenge me, especially not after taking Ricardo and returning him to his crew. It hadn’t been my fault his captain happened to be my captain’s lover. She had challenged the norms taking a rival captain to be her lover, and I had resented the loss of the one man who convinced me love could be real—and obtained.
I decided to stick with a very modified version of the truth. “It was a gift.”
“Someone likes you a lot. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to sell it?”
While tempted to say, ‘Over my dead body!’ I gave a single shake of my head before reclaiming my weapon. The sea’s memory was long, and it didn’t like giving up its dead—or ending its curses. I’d learned that lesson well enough.
The day I died would be the day the ocean willingly gave up what rightfully belonged to it. Until then, I’d remain a living relic.
The anchor from Queen Anne’s Revenge served as the gathering place of the rich and famous waiting for the moment they would behold the museum’s main exhibit, and Benny basked in the glow of their attention. I, on the other hand, wanted to hide.
Unfortunately for me, my friend enjoyed the dichotomy of a pirate captain alongside a British naval captain far too much. Whenever I tried to slip away, he found someone else to introduce me to.
On my fifth escape attempt, he flagged down Franklin Benson, holder of my bank’s largest accounts. In his late eighties, half the office looked forward to the man’s death, which would result in financial chaos of the worst—and best—sort. We’d be freed from the influence of a money shark at the price of helping his estate liquidate his investments.
The job would fall mostly to me, and if his heirs didn’t annoy me too much, I’d even scrape their pennies together to find extra dollars for them, too—if my cut of the pie was right.
“Ah, Benny. Have I told you today your collection is simply marvelous?” Bensen swept forward with the force of a tide, parting the crowd and plowing into my friend, giving him a hearty beating on his back.
With my luck, I’d be waiting a very, very long time for the energetic old man to realize he was supposed to keel over and die. Sighing, I braced for the moment of recognition, when Bensen realized his investment manager was dressed like a pirate and had worn makeup to m
imic the dirt and gunpowder of surviving a sea battle.
“Not today, Franklin, but I’ll accept your groveling as always.”
“Good lad. That’ll take you far. I see you couldn’t resist the urge to dress the part. Good choice. Who is your… friend?”
Benny grinned, reached over and grabbed my elbow, and pulled me forward. “You’ve met.”
For a brief moment, a frown darkened Bensen’s expression, and then he looked me over head to toe before narrowing his eyes and studying my face. When he realized who I was, he burst into laughter. “Catalina Corona, if my eyes do not deceive me!”
“Mr. Bensen,” I greeted.
“Franklin, darling. It’s after hours. I had no idea you made such a striking pirate lass.”
At a complete loss for how to deal with the situation, I decided to punt the ball back into Benny’s court. “Benny invited me to come and asked a favor to get me to dress up.”
“He does like showing off, our Benny. I’m impressed.” Bensen turned to Benny, his eyebrows arched high. “Wherever did you find such an authentic costume for her? You must have been planning this a long time.”
“Asked her yesterday, actually. She wore it to the Halloween party last year at her bank, and I had happened to swing in for some business and saw her in it.”
With admirable speed, Bensen whipped a cell out of his pocket, tapped the screen, and put it to his ear. “Ah, darling Harriet. How are you?”
My worst nightmare unfolded in front of me, one I couldn’t escape without murdering one of my boss’s favorite—and wealthiest—clients. I knew exactly one Harriet, and she’d already dressed me down for daring to go to a museum exhibit rather than waiting on Bensen’s whims.
When she found out I stood within five feet of the man, dressed like a pirate, she’d find a reason to fire me. Then again, it was high time I moved somewhere far away and picked up a new occupation, so no one realized I didn’t age like everyone else.
“Yes, yes. I received it. If I have any questions, I’ll make sure I ask her. She’s, very helpfully, made herself quite available, thank you. I had a question for you. You are hosting another Halloween party this year, correct?” The pause made me think my boss had no such plans and was scrambling to come up with something on the fly. “I’d like to put in a special request.”
I turned to Benny, put aside my dislike for his attire, and used his shoulder as a convenient forehead rest, closing my eyes so I could pretend the world did not exist. My hat tipped backwards but stayed on my head. Like he would with a child, my friend patted my shoulder. “There, there. I know. He’s insufferable when he gets like this, but we have to indulge the old man. It’s only polite.”
I peeked through my lashes, canting my head to watch my client continue to insert an unhealthy amount of chaos into my life.
Bensen flicked his hand in our direction. “Quiet, you scurvy curs. Ah, I apologize, Harriet. I’d like to request that the ever-so-charming Miss Catalina wear her delightful pirate costume to the Halloween party this year. It would be doing me quite the favor. Oh, I’m sure she already knows. She’s standing right next to me. Oh, dear. It seems that a haughty young British captain is trying to take her into custody. I better put an end to that nonsense right now. I will see you at the party, darling Harriet.”
Hanging up, Bensen pointed at Benny. “Unhand the fair maiden, Captain.”
A headache brewed behind my eyes. I straightened, swallowing back my urge to sigh. Lifting my hand, I gave my brow a brisk rub. “I think you’re confused. Fair? Maiden?”
“Your outfit is a most clever disguise.”
“Why am I here, Benny?”
“I believe I bribed you with beer and cookies, plus a nip of something to eat afterwards.”
Damned those cookies, anyway. Why did I always fall for the cookies? Ah, right. Hundreds of years flitting around the world hadn’t graced me with the ability to bake anything other than charred discs. I could cook, but my curse seemed to extend to baked treats.
Then again, my inability to bake likely saved me from becoming a beached whale, bloated on sugary confections.
Shaking my head, I heaved a sigh. “I may have undercharged you.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late to back out now. You had your chance to negotiate.”
Since when had my dumb but sweet Benny become so ruthless and clever? I would really need to reevaluate my original opinion of him. With a grunt, I adjusted my hat. “Better be the best damned cookies you’ve ever made, and that nip better be good, or I’ll be paying you a visit and plundering your house, me hearty.”
I meant it, too. It’d beat having to face my boss tomorrow morning, especially when she had a little over a month to prepare for an office party she didn’t want to host. Then again, she’d probably dump the whole thing on my lap in addition to my regular work without offering any help whatsoever.
Maybe I’d pay Bensen a visit, too. When the going got tough, sometimes it paid off to return to my roots and make like a pirate before busting out of the joint. That’d serve both men right.
Maybe in Benny’s case I’d consider a different sort of plundering. Good—and bad—deeds deserved their proper reward, after all, and the man had somehow managed to outsmart me at my own game.
That’d teach me to lower my defenses and underestimate someone.
Then again, I’d have to go through the headache of finding out if Benny was married. If he was, that would end that. I didn’t encroach on another woman’s territory. I also had no desire to follow in my captain’s path.
I missed her, but I also hated her, for thinking of her reminded me of Ricardo. Why couldn’t I bury the dead and leave them to their eternal slumber? Why did I torture myself with what I could no longer have?
In my quest for forgetting about the past, I’d tried just about everything. Society and its many people still confused me. Women were scorned and abused for loving each other, but if those same two women were to find company with a man, they would become his conquest, and society would look the other way.
I hated people.
Benny turned to Bensen, and for a long moment, the two stared at each other with the largest grins I’d ever seen on either man’s face. “The best part about this? I bet she would steal everything you own, and for some reason, I think she’d get away with it.”
“Indulge an old man and give me a call if you get yourself arrested stealing from his home, Miss Corona. It’d be a crime if I missed all the excitement.”
Unlike most corsets, which clung to my body and showed off my breasts without providing any additional value, mine had one special feature. Dipping my finger into my cleavage and into the hidden pocket, I pulled out my watch, lifted it up, and popped it open. “When does the main exhibit open, Benny?”
Both men stared at the old, dented pocket watch as though they’d seen a ghost. Its gold chain twinkled in the museum lights. I arched a brow at the two gentlemen. Like everything else, my watch was my original, a memento of my captain, ship, and crew.
It worked well enough for something so old. According to the device, it was almost ten o’clock. Snapping it closed, I returned it to its pocket. “Benny?”
My friend jumped, reached into his coat, and pulled out a pocket watch of his own. “Five minutes.”
While neither man spoke about why my watch had startled them, I caught them staring at my breasts—and the hidden pocket—when they thought I wouldn’t notice.
Four
We’d both resented our need to return to our crews and the sea.
I should have known Benny would give a speech. Pirate captains liked speeches. Hell, everyone who wanted power of any form liked speeches. I’d given a few speeches in my day, too. Mine mostly consisted of threats to eat annoyances if they didn’t buck up and get their damned jobs done.
Most pirate ships were hardline democracies, but some captains ruled with an iron fist, and mine had been one of them. It helped that they believed her when she
claimed she would make any and all participating in a mutiny walk the planks to be fed to a shark.
That I was the shark that would eat them went a long way to ensuring obedience.
If I’d been as smart as I liked to think I was, I would have run for the hills before he dragged me in front of the crowd. His knowledge of pirates and sailing the seas came second only to his enthusiasm, and he had far too much fun giving the crowd a lesson on appropriate pirate apparel, starting with my hat and ending with my boots.
He even had the audacity to make off with my cutlass, teaching the curious landlubbers about the violence of swordplay through the collection of nicks and dents in the old, battered metal. Over the years, I’d developed an unhealthy ethics condition, which meant instead of beating my friend within an inch of his life and stealing his wallet, I smiled and pretended I wanted to be on display.
After all, a job was a job, and Benny was paying me. Maybe my payment came in the form of beer, cookies, and dinner, but I honored my agreements. Most pirates had a twisted sense of honor at best, but Captain Louisa had beaten one lesson into all of us: when we gave our word, we kept it, even when inconvenient.
Thirty minutes after he started talking, Benny finally turned to the double doors leading deeper into the museum and took off his hat with a flourish. The pair of guards stepped aside, and after Benny tucked his tricorne under his arm, he shoved through the doors, opening the final exhibit in the museum to those gathered in the lobby.
The sea-worn, rotten remains of a frigate loomed before me, her mast broken, her sails shredded to molded scrap, and her keel so encrusted with barnacles I suspected they had held her together long after she should have fallen apart. White capped waves rose from the floor and splashed against her hull, and the dim overhead lights gleamed on the resins forming the sculptures holding the ship upright.