“Aye, they can be very accommodating to someone of my particular tastes,” Tina returned, before she thought of how her wife might take such information.
“Oh really?” Claire asked in return, but Tina did not hear her, or her tone, over the noise in the place.
Tina further missed the signs as she ordered drinks for herself and her wife, and a second one for herself that she surreptitiously slipped to George. No blacks were allowed at the bar and she knew that.
They sat down to watch people come and go, many heading upstairs to utilize the favors of the women who worked there and the bedrooms that were located on the second floor. Before Tina knew it, a woman sat down in her lap.
“Hello, doll. It is been too long,” she cooed, enticingly.
Claire looked at the whore coldly, assessing her attributes. She was blonde, but it did not look natural, with its ringlets on either side of her face. She had big breasts that spilled over the costume she was wearing, and her legs were enclosed in sheer stockings that went up to her thighs and were held up with beautiful garters matching her costume.
Tina was amused, but kept her hands spread out beside her so it did not look like she was touching the buxom blonde.
“Whatsa matter luv? I ain’t got crabs,” she laughed at her own crude joke. The laughter came out as a cackle though, and startled those around her not used to it, including Claire, who was glaring at Tina.
“Hello, Sadie,” Tina said carefully, still making sure her hands did not wrap around the woman who was leaning back and forth on her lap, inviting her to grab her hips to hold her still.
“And who is this?” she looked at the short-haired blonde who was glaring daggers at them. “You into boys now?”
“No, Sadie, this is my wife, Claire. Lady Claire actually,” she grinned.
Sadie looked in disbelief at the captain, and then again at the short-haired blonde who looked like a young man. She looked the competition up and down and found it distasteful. “This is your wife?” she asked, thumb pointing at Claire with disdain. “You married this?” she asked in disbelief. “Did you lose a bet?” she hoped that Black Betty was kidding.
Tina stood up at this insult and dumped the blonde on the dirty floor. “This is my wife, Sadie, show some respect or I will show you some,” she said, and her hand went to her knife.
“What the hell!” she screeched at being unceremoniously dumped on the filthy floor. “You owe me a new dress for that dirty trick!”
People were turning to see what fun was emerging with the blonde’s shrieks.
“No, Sadie, I do not. I did not invite you onto my lap, and I did not invite you to insult my wife,” she said, menacingly.
“Your wife!” she sneered as she got up. “Looks more like a boy who ain’t developed yet,” she said loudly, eyeing Claire once more, who flushed at the insult. She turned to Claire and asked, “Whatsa matter, sweetie, ain’t you learned how to grow ‘em?” she smiled. Her fully made-up face made it look grotesque, and Claire pulled back alarmed at the woman’s nastiness.
“Sadie, I suggest you leave,” Black Betty warned her.
The buxom blonde tossed her head, causing the ringlets to sway becomingly. In her anger, she looked very ugly. “You used to be fun, Betty,” she said, in a voice that Tina would normally have answered. When she did not, the woman left to find someone who would pay for her ample charms.
Tina turned to Claire when the blonde had stomped away and hissed, “I am sorry, do you want to leave?”
Claire looked like she was about to cry, but she shook her head sadly.
Tina felt terrible, as if she had not protected her wife from the whore’s vicious taunts. “Look, that wench does not know anything...you have to ignore her.”
Claire blinked rapidly to get the extra moisture out of her eyes, and looked at Tina. When she felt able she said, softly, “I guess I should not have cut my hair.”
Tina blinked in surprise. She had not thought about that argument in a long time, they had put it well behind them. “C’mon, let us get out of here,” she said, tugging at Claire’s arm to pull her up out of the chair and away from the drink she had not even touched. With a nudge, she indicated that George should drink it and she shot off her own, gasping as it hit the back of her throat and burned on the way down.
“What if I do not wish to leave?” Claire asked, and tried to pull her arm from Tina’s grasp, angrily.
Tina was looking around the room. The looks were not friendly. Claire had no idea how nasty rooms like this could get, and quickly. “I think we should leave now,” she hissed in warning as a few of the more speculative looks turned lascivious.
“But I came into town to see the sights,” Claire whined obtusely.
Tina exchanged a look with George, who nodded behind her. Tina turned in time to see a few burly and drunken sailors making their way determinedly towards them. Inwardly she sighed.
“You wanna see the sights, wench, I have a sight you should see,” one of them said as he walked up and grabbed at his crotch.
“Watchit,” the other warned, seeing Black Betty and her red hair. He recognized who she was even if his mate did not.
Tina did not allow this to anger her. She was watching the men around them to see their reactions. She was also watching Claire out of the corner of her eye to see if she was finally realizing the danger they just might be in.
“Well, wench,” the first one continued as though his mate had not said a word. “Why do you and I not become better acquainted?” he asked, leering into Claire’s face. It was obvious he had been drinking by the dribble down his scraggly beard and onto his already dirty shirt, which showed the wetness. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, which was also dirty and burned dark from the winds and the sea. He seemed to like what he saw in Claire’s frightened face.
“Uh, I do not think...” his friend tried to warn him as he got a good look at Tina.
“You can have the redhead. I do not like redheads,” he said, stupidly.
“What if the redhead does not want either of you blokes?” Tina asked, reaching up for one of the scimitars strapped to her back and bringing it down quickly. The man leaped out of the way, but barely, as it swished in front of him.
“What the hell...?” he began, alarmed, looking angrily at the woman he had just disparaged. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he asked, eyeing the sharp, curved blade, and glancing at the handle of the other one that he could see over her other shoulder. The sword and the bejeweled knife strapped at her waist also caught his attention.
“I am Captain Betty, laddie. I suggest you go along and leave my lady be,” she warned him politely.
“Your lady?” he asked, stupidly, the alcohol he had been drinking making it hard to think. He began to laugh as though she had made a joke.
Claire was alarmed. She had never seen Tina pull out her swords in anything but practice, and she felt helpless with the mass of men in the room. She had never seen Tina use the scimitars. She realized how dangerous it was for perhaps the first time, and despite the fact she too had a sword and a knife on her belt, she had forgotten them in the tense moment.
“Aye, she is mine,” she confirmed. She was watching him intently, but using her peripheral vision to keep an eye on others who might cause trouble.
“Do ye hear that, boys?” he said, looking around for someone to join in his little game, and perhaps help him if he needed it. His mate had backed away as soon as the scimitar came out. “She is her lady!” he roared, laughing.
Tina did not answer him; she did not have to as others recognized her or whispered conversations told others who she was. The noise in the room began to die down. Some were watching speculatively, wondering at the outcome as they eyed her weapons.
“What can you do for her that I cannot?” he asked, grabbing at his crotch in emphasis.
Tina’s face took on an amused sneer as she glanced at his suggestive groping. “I am sure a helluva lot more than th
at worm,” she said succinctly in the room and it carried as the conversations were quieting as more and more people began to watch the confrontation. Some who knew who the redhead was told others and bets began to be placed at the outcome.
Several snickers egged him on at the insult. “I will have to teach you, wench,” he told her, drawing his own sword.
Tina did not wait since he had drawn it. She immediately swung to keep Claire behind and to the left of her, so she could still see her peripherally. She went on the attack and began swinging the scimitar in a manner that kept him on the defensive. As he withdrew to fight her off, he drew her away from Claire, and with her left hand she grabbed Claire’s arm to pull her behind her and bring her along. She knew that George would have Claire’s and her back and warn her if she needed to know of something from that angle.
Tina was not only a good swordswoman, she was quick and agile. She had been taught by her grandfather’s men who had been amused at the child’s interest in ‘men’s sports’ and thought it a lark to teach her until they realized she had a natural ability. She used that speed and agility now to quickly disarm her protagonist. He was sweaty when she held the sharp and curved blade of the sword to his throat.
“Now, I suggest you apologize to me and my lady and we will call it quits, eh?” she asked, conversationally, as she held him at arm’s length, but with one slight thrust the sword could cut easily as butter into his throat.
“Like hell I will,” he said spiritedly, but began blubbering an apology when she gave his beard a bit of a shave, one sided. It was difficult to understand the words as he said them repeatedly and quickly in one long sentence, but Tina got the drift of it.
“I suggest you leave,” she answered his apology with a hard look. She saw she had only cut one side of the scraggly beard and he would look lopsided for a long time.
He took her suggestion, got up quickly, and disappeared into the crowd to loud guffaws from other men and women.
“Good job, Betty,” a tall gruff man clapped her on the shoulder, nearly getting himself cut for the effort as she turned quickly with the sword.
“Ian!” she said with a smile, as she returned the sword to her back and leapt to wrap her arms around the man.
“Ah, leetle Betty,” he said with an accent and a huge smile as he bear-hugged her.
“Not so little,” she said as she kissed him on the cheek and he held her up off the floor, swinging her to and fro.
He let her down slowly and suggestively against his body as he smiled down, pleased, into her face. “You’ve turned into a fine lassie, and kept up your lessons I see,” he said, glancing at the armament she wore.
Tina turned and pulled the very pale Claire forward. “I want you to meet Ian McDonagal,” she introduced the man.
“Ian, this is me wife, Claire. Lady Claire, actually,” she added with a grin.
“A lady, eh?” he said, releasing her to hold out a hand to Claire, who held out her own. She was surprised when he leaned over it and kissed the back of it like any gentleman would. His pale blue eyes twinkled into her own as he grinned roguishly at her. He turned back to Tina to ask, “So you found one, eh?”
Tina put an arm around Claire in proprietorship. “Aye, I found the one,” she said meaningfully to the man, who nodded in understanding.
“Is your grandfather here too?” he asked.
“Nay, he lives up in the Americas now. Canada, off that big river up there,” she told him. “There was an accident, and he cannot stand too long or too much.”
“Ahhh, that must be the death of him,” he said knowingly.
“He has turned into a merchantman,” she explained.
He laughed at the news. “And you, what are you doing in the Tavern of the Seas?”
“We are on our way to the Far East. I had a hankering to see it again and Grandfather insisted I bring another four ships with me to make sure I make it back alive.”
“Aye, I can see him doing that,” he nodded perceptively. “He always was a canny man. Pirating just does not bring what it used to anyway,” he finished, sadly. “Unless you are in the Med or along Africa regularly.”
Tina nodded in agreement. “So what are you doing in the Cape? I thought you went back to Scotland?”
“Aye, but they could not take me and my ways. I am not fit to be landlocked, and I had a hankering for one more voyage.”
“How many one mores have you made?” she teased him with a grin.
“I lost count,” he laughed with her. “Wish I had known about himself. I would have joined one of his ships. Better than any I have found.”
“Are you looking?” she asked, speculatively.
“Aye, but me captains a canny fellow and I cannot jump here. He’d find me family and do them in or shanghai ‘em for me. I put my x down for two years.”
Tina nodded, knowing some sailors were honor bound by that signing. “Well, we will be back here in a year or so. If you are here, watch for us,” she told him.
He nodded, and looking at the two women and the black man at their back, he smiled. “God, it is good to see a friendly face!” He smacked her again on the shoulder and if she had been a smaller woman, she would have staggered at the blow.
Tina merely smiled sadly, knowing he would be an excellent addition to her or any of her crews in their little sailing expedition.
“You got the Black Betty?” he asked, and she nodded.
“They built her as I always dreamed,” she informed him.
“Aye, but then money does have a way of talking, eh?”
She smiled in answer as they chatted for a while, and she could feel Claire getting fidgety beside her, as other men looked at her speculatively. She soon ended the conversation with her old friend, again reminding him they would probably be in Cape Town in a year and to watch for them if he wanted to sign on.
“Let us get out of here,” she said low to Claire, as they made their way through the thick crowd. She shoved a few drunks out of their way as they made towards the front doors with George right behind them. As he looked like their servant and not a guest, he was tolerated although there were a few free blacks in the place who were sailors.
On the way back toward their ship, Claire breathed a sigh of relief as she asked, “What is the Tavern of the Seas? I thought we were in The Scottish Temple?”
“The Tavern of the Seas is another name for Cape Town, a nickname,” she told her. She lost the slight accent she had affected in the Temple. Her words became a little more particular again now that they were alone.
“I am glad we are not in there anymore,” Claire said, her arm pulling Tina closer around the waist.
“We still are not safe,” Tina warned her. “That is why I warned you about doing things I tell you immediately.”
“You do not own me,” Claire started their old argument again.
“It is not that. It is just that I have been in a few of those places and I can gauge it better than you,” she tried to explain reasonably as they made their way down the darkened street and she peered into the darkness to ascertain any danger. It could just be someone looking to roll them for their pocket change, but it could also be the man she had fought in the tavern or one of his cronies. It was not safe to be out on these streets at any time and sometimes the soldiers were worse than the sailors.
“I see you have been there before. That whore knew you well, I could see,” Claire said petulantly.
“You knew I have a past,” Tina reminded her.
“I do not like your past in my face,” she said hotly, and dropped her arm from around Tina.
“I did not know she was going to do that,” she tried to point out.
“You were not hurrying to get rid of her.”
“I did not touch her.”
Tina almost missed the scurried shadow ahead of them in the argument they were carrying on, but her arm was still around Claire when it was shrugged off by her wife. It was lucky she did that because it allowed Tina to
push Claire back to George and draw her sword from its scabbard on her belt at the same time.
A clash of steel could be heard as she staved off the blow meant for their heads. Her movement threw off her opponent’s balance and she followed down the steel rod to slice at the hand holding it, unable to see the face of her attacker. She followed through as the shadow dropped the metal pole, grasping the bleeding hand that held it. Tina did not hesitate as she cut back and sliced along the body from shoulder to shoulder.
“Argh!!!” the attacker cried as they reeled backwards against a shop.
“Hey there, what is happening?” an authoritative voice called, but Tina was already following through, knowing that the attacker could have a knife or any other sort of weapon. She stabbed where she knew the heart to be and her attacker slid off her sharp sword as they fell to the ground.
A soldier ran up with a lantern and shed some light onto their situation.
Tina was horrified as she realized her attacker had been a tall, young man who could not have been more than a teenager. He still had acne on his face; his buck teeth were prominent as he grimaced in his death throes and the blood poured out of his lean body.
“What is happening here?” another soldier ran up, his own sword drawn.
Tina calmly wiped her blade on the boy’s clothing as he breathed his last. She sheathed her sword to show she was not threatening to the two soldiers as she spread her hands to show they were empty. “We were attacked by this lad and I merely defended us,” she explained.
“We are going to need you to come in and make a report,” the one said belligerently, eyeing her red hair, the scimitars strapped to her back, the knife and sword at her waist, the earrings in her ears, her manly attire, and her stance...all unusual in a woman.
“I will be happy to make a report, but in the morning, as I am needed on my ship,” she said in return.
“You are from a ship?” he asked, not believing her and taking in Claire and George.
“Of course. I have several ships in the bay,” she explained. “Tell Captain Morisson that Bettina Carmichaels has gotten another piece of trash off his streets,” she continued cheekily as she grinned. She knew name dropping would help her get out of what could be a sticky situation with this officer. They tended to be bullies and throw their weight around. She did not want to have to kill him for his belligerence. “I will be in tomorrow morning at first light,” she continued, authoritatively.
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