The Pirate Queen

by Candace Osmond

  A bag of schillings from Mom’s collection, a large dagger, my prenatal vitamins, a lighter, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, my pain meds and antibiotics, and a full water canister. I would be the most prepared time traveler who ever existed.

  Then I went back to the dining room and removed my clothes before slipping back into the garments I’d brought here with me. My adopted red jacket fit like a glove and I noted the immaculate job Mary had done at mending the tear. My wounded shoulder protested as I lifted the satchel and slipped my head through. The bag hung heavily at my side, but I tossed Mom’s journal in, along with some snacks and tightened the convenient drawstring before locking the giant metal clasp in place. I stopped for a moment to look around and took a deep breath.

  Lastly, I scooped up my ruby necklace and looped it over my head. “I’m coming home, Henry.”

  John would be back soon and my window of opportunity to get far enough out on the water was closing by the second. I ran outside and down to the water’s edge where our old motorboat was and shoved it into the water before clumsily hopping in. It took a few labored tries, but I yanked on the pull start a fourth time and the motor roared to life.

  “Yes!” I shouted to the skies above. I hit the gas and maneuvered the tiny vessel out to the moon’s reflection on the waves, the pink highlight of the setting sun nearly gone. I worried that I was too late but leaned over the side and dipped my hand in the cool water.

  “Please,” I begged the universe, “Take me back to Henry.” I waited a few seconds and when nothing happened, I asked again. “I wish to be taken back to Henry, please!”

  Still nothing.

  I released my hold on the boat’s edge and sat on the damp bottom, defeated, fighting back the wave of anger I felt building up. That was it. My last shot. And it didn’t even work. I felt like a fool and panicked as I thought of John discovering the letter I left behind. I was about to turn the boat around when something caught my eye, a movement in the practically still water just a few feet from the side of my tiny vessel.

  I moved closer to the front where I could get a better look and scanned the ocean’s surface. What light lingered from the sun had gone and all that remained was moonlight and pure darkness, but I could see, in the reflection of the moon, the hint of ripples fading out from the center of… something. I inched closer, straining my eyes to see when something emerged from the water and splashed my face. I fell on my ass and scrambled back to my knees to see what it was, but the darkness shrouded everything.

  “Hello,” a strange sound voiced, eliciting a yelp from me. I still couldn’t actually see anything.

  Or anyone.

  “Hi,” I replied, “w-who’s there?” The boat rocked and tilted to the side as I braced the edges of the wooden bench seat. Then, as the boat drifted further into a ray of moonlight, a figure manifested from the water. No, the shape… itmanifested of water. I screamed and backed away.

  “You summon my help and then scream in my presence?” the water-being stated. Only, it’s voice, it didn’t quite come from the shape. The echoing sound seemed to come from the water all around as if the ocean itself had spoken to me. But I continued to stare, digesting what my eyes were seeing. It mimicked a human form but was made entirely of water. I could see the lapping waves and the pale moonlight behind it as if peering through a window on a rainy night.

  “I’m sorry,” I told it, mouth gaping, “you just startled me. I’ve never seen anything like you before.”

  The thing pushed itself up and leaned further into my boat. “I’m a siren of the ocean,” it said. “If you do not know what I am, then how did you know to summon me?”

  I thought for a moment. Mom must have recalled the fable from her own childhood memories. In her journal, she’d mentioned being raised by Martha, the Celtic witch. Who knew the plethora of magical knowledge she subconsciously harbored in that brain of hers? “My mother,” I replied, “she knew a little about magic. She told me about the wish when I was a child.”

  “Be that as it may,” the siren spoke with a warning, “what you seek goes against the laws of time. You cannot go back unless you are from the past.”

  “But I’ve done it before,” I replied desperately.

  The creature appeared surprised as it accepted my words. “Curious.”

  “What’s curious?”

  “I’ve roamed the seas for millennia, and I’ve only known one thing to overpower the laws of time,” the siren told me, and its face appeared to morph with the shape of a grin as it cocked its head to the side.

  My patience grew thin and I worried someone would spot me out on the water.

  “And? What was it?”

  The creature pushed even further into my little boat and brought its face close to mine. I could smell the saltwater and feel the cool sea breeze that flowed around its shape. “Fate.” It drew back again, the shape of a smile still molded into its face. “It appears someone’s heart calls to you from the past, dearie.”

  Before I could reply, the creature lunged backward and leaped into the sea with a heavy splash, soaking me and covering the bottom of the boat with water. As I wiped the wetness from my face, I peered out to where it had disappeared and spotted a tiny swirling movement on the surface. It grew larger, faster, and before I could prepare myself, the tiny swirl had morphed into a massive whirlpool. The mouth opened even further, and the moving force sucked my boat into a rotation around the perimeter as I grabbed ahold of the sides, bracing for what was to come. The whipping current grabbed hold of the boat and knocked me around inside it. I fought to hold on, to keep the craft afloat, but as I swirled down closer to the dark center, I lost control and just let go, letting the ocean and the threads of time take me once again.

  Chapter Six

  The familiar misty breeze of the ocean tousled my hair and stirred me from unconsciousness. I pried open my dry, sand coated mouth and rolled over to face the warm sun above, noting a couple of seagulls circling above. A coarse moan escaped my lips as I pushed my body upright to look around and found that I wasn’t alone.

  A stray goat sniffed at my face and let out a loud baaaaa, kicking my heart awake before running off. My eyes followed the animal and saw that I appeared to be on a beach with a long stretch of grass behind me, the faint hint of smoke tops in the distance.

  I made it.

  After assessing my body to confirm that I was okay, and still had my trusty satchel of goodies, I scrambled to my feet. Adrenaline was hot through my veins as I jumped up and down with my arms high in the air. “Yes!” I screamed to the skies and my wounded shoulder angrily protested. “I did it!”

  After allowing a quick happy dance on the sand, I checked my shoulder to make sure it was alright and headed off in the direction of the smokestacks. I had to figure out where I was and find a place to stay while I sussed out the word on land. It didn’t take long to find a gravel road which led into the nearby community. The landscape was familiar, but I could have been anywhere in Newfoundland for all I knew. The gravel crunched beneath the soles of my leather boots as I walked and inhaled the sweet air. I smiled as the rooftops of the town came into full view and I ran toward the small wooden sign at the end of the road.

  “Harbour Grace?” I spoke out loud and then laughed to myself. I had landed where the most notorious pirate of all time, Peter Easton, fortified his base and ruled Newfoundland hundreds of years ago. History said that no ship passed through the harbor without Easton’s crew claiming it. Thankfully, his reign over the area ended in the 1600s, nearly a hundred years from the past I then stood in. But that wasn’t the only good thing. Harbour Grace wasn’t that far from Cupers Cove, so finding out what happened to The Devil’s Heart should prove to be an easy task.

  My tired legs strolled along as I took in the quaint houses and bustling seaside town. The docks were alive with fishermen, merchants, traders, and the harbor was riddled with vessels of all sizes. The sight of the sails stirred something in my soul, a familiar sense o
f home, and I longed to be on the sea again. The smell of the sea mixed with baked goods filled my nostrils and tickled my stomach, alerting me to the fact that I was starving. I came across a tavern, the hand-painted sign telling me it was called The Slippery Cod and entered with a grin.

  Inside, I found a few tables along the front window where some fishermen sat, and a weathered front desk area that looked like it doubled as a bar. “Hello?” I called. I could feel the men’s eyes on me. From the swinging saloon-style doors behind the bar, a young woman came charging out with a tray full of plates and mugs, her plain cotton dress visibly worn with the days duties. She caught the sight of me and smiled.

  “I’ll be right with you,” she told me quickly as she passed, heading toward the sitting men. I watched her set down the tray and place food and drinks in front of each eagerly awaiting man. A couple of them sized up her behind as she leaned across the table, something I’m sure she was used to but still made me sick to witness. She scooped up her empty tray and turned to come toward me when one of the men grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

  “When are ye gonna sell me that boat of yers?” he asked her.

  The barmaid plastered on a smile. “Now, Fergus, you know I can’t part with it. I’ve told you a hundred times.” She attempted to leave again, but the Fergus character wouldn’t have it. His expression turned sour as he yanked on her arm again.

  “Now ye listen here,” he warned her as she wriggled against his hold. “A boat like that is nothin’ for a fine young lady to have. Best sell it to a man who can use it.”

  I’d had enough. The era be damned, I wasn’t going to stand there while a woman got harassed by a gross old man. I strolled over to them, removing my dagger from my satchel as I did, and then brought it down on the tabletop with a quick jab, the tip driving into the surface. The three men threw themselves back in their chairs and eyed the dagger with fear before turning their gazes to me. One man jumped up from his seat while pointing at my knife.

  “T-that be the mark of The Burning Ghost,” he announced.

  I stole a quick look at my knife, knowing it once belonged to Maria but never noticed the etched skull inside a flame on the opposite side of her carved initials. I tried to hide my surprise and used this to my benefit while grinning at the shell-shocked men.

  “Gentlemen,” I addressed, “Do we have a problem here?”

  They tipped their flat hats and scuttled around as they grabbed their coats. “No, ma’am,” one replied before they all ran out the door.

  I leaned forward and fetched my dagger from the table, internally reeling from what I just did, and finally sheathed it at my side instead of tossing it back in the bag. I then turned my attention to the barmaid who stood with her hands on her hips.

  “Who the hell are you?” she asked, eyes wild.

  “I’m–” who was I? “not from around here. I just got to town.” The bard maid nodded curiously. “I’m looking for a room for a few nights. If you have one.”

  I noted her looking at my ears and then remembered that I forgot to take out my diamond studs, a birthday gift from my father so many years ago. Here, in this era, diamond anything would be pretty much unheard of. Jewels fit for royalty. I self-consciously pawed at my straggly hair, hoping to cover my earlobes.

  She continued to eye me curiously and turned to head behind the old wooden counter. “Well, Not From Around Here, I do happen to have a couple of rooms available.” She fetched a key that hung from the back wall amongst the jars of rum and handed it to me. “It’s nothing fancy, but there are fresh quilts and a wash pan.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.” An awkward silence hung between us as I wondered if I could just head to my room. “Those men, do they always harass you about your boat?”

  Her eyes flashed with something and I watched her put up a wall. “Yes,” she replied. “It’s just a small thing my pop left to my daddy. Now it’s mine.” She nervously began to wipe down the bar top. “Just a tiny fishing boat, really.” Then she pointed to the stairs. “Your room is at the top, first on the right.”

  I retreated to my room, a modest space with a single bed and a dresser with a wash pan on top. I collapsed on the bed and let it really sink in that I was there. I’d traveled back in time twice. I had a long road ahead of me to figure out what happened to The Devil’s Heart, but I was on the right track. I could feel it. If I could get this far on my own, then there was nothing that would stop me. My fingers reached down into my shirt and pulled out the ruby necklace. I loved the feeling of the cold stone warming in my palm as I held it tightly.

  “I’m going to find you, Henry.” Absentmindedly, I rubbed my stomach with my free hand and smiled. “We’re going to find you.”

  I then removed my heavy satchel and placed it on the bed in front of me. Without a second thought, I took out my diamond studs and tucked them into a tiny inside pocket for safekeeping. Then I popped a prenatal vitamin and took a swig from my canister before laying back against the pillow. Without realizing, I dozed off and woke up sometime later, the setting sun casting a purple glow across the room as a knock at my door pulled me from my sleep. I rolled off the bed and opened the door to find the barmaid.

  “Apologies,” she said, “I wasn’t aware you were sleeping.”

  I rubbed my tired eyes. I had jetlag from hell. “No, it’s okay,” I assured her. “I have things to do, anyway.”

  “Well, just wanted to let you know that supper’s being served in a few moments if you’re hungry.”

  “Thanks,” I replied with a yawn, “I’m starved, actually.” The young woman lingered, and I could sense the tension radiating from her. “Is there anything else?”

  With arms crossed over her chest, she chewed her lip before deciding to speak. “Are you truly from The Burning Ghost?”

  “What?”

  “Your dagger,” she continued, “It bears the mark of The Burning Ghost. Everyone thought that ship was long gone. Then it recently resurfaced, causin’ trouble everywhere.” She stopped and let her words stew with me. “I don’t want any trouble here.”

  I inhaled deeply. “No, I promise you, I’m not from The Cobham’s ship.” The relief that washed over her body was hard to ignore. “I’m here to find some friends of mine. We–” I wondered how much information I could trust this woman with. “We got separated about a week ago.”

  “Very good, then,” the woman accepted my words, “If you’re lookin’ for anyone, just ask around the tavern downstairs around mealtime. All the fishermen and merchants come in for some grub, one of them should know somethin’.” She turned to leave but paused at the top of the stairs. “I’m Lottie, by the way.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lottie,” I genuinely told her, my mind racing to think of a name I could use. Then I grinned. “I’m Dianna. Dianna White.”

  ***

  After I cleaned myself up and changed the dressing on my shoulder, I headed downstairs to the tavern for some food with the intent to gain information about The Devil’s Heart. I found the place full, bustling with chatty fishermen and locals. A few gave me a smile and a hat tip but ignored me beyond that. I found an empty chair at the end of the bar and took a seat. Before long, Lottie came charging out through the swinging doors with a heavy food tray in hand. She spotted me and, after she served a couple of patrons, came over to me from behind the bar.

  “What can I get for you?” she asked as her cloth wiped the wooden surface in front of me.

  I shrugged. “What do you have?”

  “Well, you have a choice between a fish stew and fish stew,” Lottie replied jokingly without a smile. Her humor surprised me, and I laughed as she threw me a wink. “I’ll bring you somethin’ to drink, as well.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  While I waited, I opened my ears to the conversations around me to see if I could pick up on anything that may help my mission. I couldn’t just stroll up to a stranger and ask if they’ve heard of The Devil’s Heart. I had to be sneaky
about it. Drawing too much attention to myself probably wasn’t a good idea, and I was certain word had already spread about the crazy lady at the tavern with Maria Cobham’s dagger.

  All around, I could hear the raspy voices of fishermen mixing with the cheery tones of the locals, every person just happy to be there and relaxing with friends around good food and the warmth of the big stone fireplace near the back. As the sun set, the tavern dimmed to the glow of oil lamps that hung from the walls and anchored the center of every table.

  While eating the surprisingly delicious fish stew Lottie brought me, I attempted to strike up casual chit-chat with a few sailors that sidled up to me. But, one after another, they left when I turned the conversation to The Devil’s Heart. I couldn’t tell if they were scared or just plain hiding something. Either way, no one would give me any helpful information. But the word must have made its way through the bustling tavern because, over the sudden sound of a fiddle filling the space, I picked up on the mention of Cupers Cove and two men planning a trip to see The Devil’s Heart. My own heart skipped a beat and I turned on my stool to face the pair of sailors sitting at the table behind me.

  “Gentlemen,” I greeted, and they gave me a smile. “What’s this I hear about a trip to Cupers Cove?”

  They both exchanged a look and held their smiles. “Yes, ma’am,” one replied and tipped the brim of his flat hat. “We’re headin’ out tomorrow morning.”

  “Do you have room for one more?” I asked, hopeful.

  They exchanged another look, but their smiles began to fade. “Not really,” the other told me. “We got some business to tend to.”