Patrick’s ears were still ringing. He had a horrible headache and his jaw throbbed, but he would not let his master down after he had saved him from the lobster back. He took the map, nodded, and made his way down the street towards town. Although he was in pain, Patrick’s mood improved greatly when he knocked on the door of the Red Lady. The door swung open, revealing a smiling April, but quickly her face became very concerned. “Welcome to the... good God! What have they done to you man?! Come in!" April blurted out the invitation. When Patrick was inside the house, April touched his face gently and asked as he winced, "Did Archibald finally have enough of you laughing at his expense?"
Patrick had spent most of his remaining energy on the walk through town in the sun and became very dizzy. He suddenly fell to the floor of the Red Lady's foyer. April clapped her hands and in seconds a group of scantily clad women arrived. April instructed her ladies to pick Patrick up and carry him to a bed. "Ladies, clean him up. I want his wounds tended to as well. Tiphanie, I just received some new yarrow plants. Wash one and bring it to me. Do you understand my English?” The Madam ordered. Tiphanie nodded in affirmation and disappeared to find the yarrow plants.
The next thing Patrick became aware of was being fully erect, even though a wet rag was painfully dabbing at the weeping, open wounds on his face. He smiled as the women tended to his lacerations. He considered going back home to smash up his body, simply so he could come back again to the Red Lady and receive this kind of attention. The French woman, Tiphanie, arrived with a white flowering stem with fingers of green leaves running up it. Ah, Patrick thought deliriously, they're now bringing me flowers. The madam quickly broke the flower off and instructed Tiphanie to brew a tea with it. April then chewed the leaves until the juices ran from the corners of her mouth. She then took the ball of chewed greenery out of her mouth and applied it to Patrick’s cuts. The tattooed woman repeated this process until all of Patrick's cuts and bruises were covered with this green, gooey pulp.
The madam then ordered her whores out of the room and closed the door gently. She turned to her patient slowly and stared at him with compassion. She returned to Patrick's side and carefully brushed the hair from his face, whispering in his ear, "Your face is so scarred from a harsh life. You look like a beast, a wolf that has been in many fights. From now on I will call you 'My Wolf.'”
Patrick reached into his pocket and handed her the map. “He said it is off some sound on the side of Jekyl Island. Be ready to pick up the shipment in six days. He wants to do it by moonlight.”
“Well, you will be coming with me early morrow, my wolf. We need to prep the ships tomorrow and be ready to sail. We will sail around Jekyl and fish a few days so as not to draw suspicion,” the kind trollop explained. She continued to detail the plan while Patrick’s eyes and mind wandered onto April’s cleavage. His eyes drifted down her body and appreciated her fantastic figure. Patrick imagined April had been a top-dollar prostitute in her younger years. She had a very attractive face but time had worn her some. When she smiled, deep wrinkles of crows feet lined her eyes and lips, revealing her true age briefly. He had not noticed how striking her green eyes were until this moment while she stared at the injured man with so much care. But even the stunning beauty of her eyes did not compete for Patrick's attention when half-naked women were scrubbing and caring for him.
April stopped speaking for a moment and waited for Patrick's attention to return to her face. Patrick blushed slightly, but she smiled as she spoke, “So that is all the details you need to know right now."
Patrick gingerly rubbed his eyes. “Um...what time do we leave and where am I meeting you again?”
April crossed her arms under her breasts, frustrated, then sighed. “Are you deaf, my dear? I said sunrise here while you were looking at me tits." She stood up straight and combed the hair from her face with her fingers as she broke into a pirate's brogue, "Christ...men. You all are the fucking same. You cannot keep your cocks in your pantaloons long enough to even make one round of silver.” Patrick was taken aback by the sudden accent. He had no words for April as she continued, “Sorry about me unladylike tongue. Me old self comes out when me soul grows a fire. Be here at dawn morrow and come battle ready. And here, take an eyeful with you.” She then squeezed her cleavage together and seductively leaned down over his pulp-covered face. The harlot left her breasts close to Patrick's face while she gently cleaned the green goo off with a rag. Patrick did not mind the slight stinging as he enjoyed the sight of April's breasts heaving as she breathed. The Madam was graceful, sexually charged and an utter assault on Patrick’s senses. When she was finished, she kissed him on his bruised cheeks and waved goodbye as she exited the room.
Patrick was in no hurry to leave and enjoyed lying in a real bed. He had not lain on a mattress since his childhood and was melting into its softness. He almost fell asleep when the Nubian woman named Rose entered and offered to help him up. He noticed how pretty her smile was now that she was clothed. The scantily-clad, black strumpet showed him out the door of the Red Lady. He stared at the door that had just been closed in his face and again thought, Damn, I am so sick of being poor!
Patrick hurried back home, cautious to avoid any soldiers he saw on the way. When he arrived at the Freeman home, Archibald could be heard clanging around in the shed, uncovering his secret stash of weapons. When he noticed Patrick's presence, he smirked, “You seem to lose all sense of time when you go to the Red Lady. Why is that Patrick?”
Patrick grinned, “The lighting is bloody awful. It is tough to find my way out.”
“Control yourself, lad," the Scot warned. "Nothing but trouble, poverty and cock diseases find a man who does not control himself." Archibald put his hands on his belt and gave Patrick a stern look. When he felt his apprentice had understood the gravity of his words, Archibald continued, “Best get your weapons ready. The delicate madam runs with the real scum of the sea. Do not trust anyone you talk to, not even Miss Sky.” Archibald then handed him a sawed-off musket, a dirk, a powder horn, shot, and a large Scottish broadsword.
As the weapons seemed to pile up, Patrick exclaimed, “By the Lord’s mercy, is there something you’re not telling me? What kind of ship is this?”
“Have you not figured out that she is a bloody pirate, lad?" Archibald questioned. "She is going to use her smuggler connections to sell these war irons. Only wanted men would take the risk of buying stolen British cannons. They will cut your throat and take everything you bring if you present yourselves as easy targets.” Patrick gulped. Pirates! Archibald could finally see the young man taking his words seriously. Satisfied, he continued, “Go see Heather and get some rations, enough for two weeks. Then say your goodbyes and go sleep off your punch head.”
Patrick was ready to pass out but stumbled his way to Heather in the kitchen. She smiled and already had a bag of food packed and ready. “You are going to make such a fantastic wife to a lucky man one day,” Patrick complimented.
Heather sarcastically laughed, “Not very likely." She then called out to her father in the yard asking if she could go visit with Prudence and Mari Anna. Archibald stepped into the doorway and told his daughter she could go, but for only two hours. Heather would need to return to help her mother with the evening's cooking. He also insisted that she avoid any redcoats she spotted and her brothers would escort her. With that, she protested, "Father, I am nineteen. I am old enough to go alone."
Archibald crossed his arms and nodded towards Patrick, “Child, take a good look at Patrick’s face. You are not going anywhere alone and that is my decision.” With that, Heather pouted and stated she was going to go find the twins. Patrick returned to his shed. Archibald was now gone and the inventory was back in place. He passed out from exhaustion on his hammock with dreams of the tattooed woman swimming in his head.
* * *
The indenture woke up before dawn, swatting at the bugs crawling on his open cuts. He was anxious about the morning's planned adventure. He dre
ssed quickly and strapped his arsenal of weapons on his body. He took the sack of rations Heather carefully packed for him and noticed cornbread. He wondered how she kept getting so much of this wonderful manna. Patrick found Archibald already in the yard fully dressed and getting ready to leave. “Patrick, if we are more than two days late, do not wait for us. Assume something went afoul and return to Savannah immediately.” He then called for his family to see the men off. The entire family quickly assembled by the fire pit. He informed them he expected a short trip and would be home in two weeks. The same rules still applied. The family was expected to be inconspicuous while in town and they would shut in early. When finished with his instructions, he commanded his family, with a smile and open arms, to hug their father saying, "I love you" to all of them. When he was done embracing the family, he turned to Patrick and solemnly stated, “If something ever happens to me, I expect you to honor me by caring for my family. I ask you to protect them and love them as I would. Do you accept this proposition I charge you with?”
Patrick was honored. “I already love your family and consider them to be my family now. I will watch over them, you have my word." The family embraced Patrick in the emotional moment. Patrick shed a tear. It was the first time since the day his father died that he felt part of a family. He had become so detached and guarded throughout the years because he had lost so much. For a brief moment, the Freeman’s embrace broke through his emotional defense and he was overwhelmed.
The blacksmiths finished saying their goodbyes and departed. Patrick watched as Archibald met Isaac on the street and then disappeared into the marsh. He was worried for the men’s safety and knew pulling a cannon train through impassable swampland was a brutal task. The trek was difficult enough, but staying invisible the entire passage would be near impossible. Patrick collected himself and his thoughts turned to his own mission. He was about to set sail with real life pirates!
Patrick headed toward the Red Lady and knocked on the door. After a minute, April answered. Not wearing the elegant red dress Patrick was accustomed to seeing her in, she was now wearing a tight red and black corset and a short dress that only hung to her thigh. She had on tight, black stockings that ran into her tall red boots. She would be arrested in the streets of Savannah for vulgarity if she was noticed by a redcoat. April also had a red tricorn hat with a huge red parrot feather adorning it. Black leather gloves belled outward over her wrists. One yellow and one black sash hung off her biceps. She was carrying an extremely fancy blunderbuss and a large cutlass blade was hanging from a red sash around her waist. Jammed in the front and back of the sash were four small flintlock pistols. Patrick stared at her and wondered how she fit all these weapons onto her slender frame.
“Are ya just going to stand slack jaw and stare at me tits again?" April questioned with her pirates brogue. "Well, you can look at them all you want as long as you pick up me bags and follow me." April instructed Patrick to be very careful with one particular bag, making a point that the bag not be dropped or tossed. After a moment she decided to just carry the mysterious bag herself. Patrick snapped to service and collected the enticing pirate’s pile of bags. It seemed like an excessive amount for two weeks. The blacksmith's indenture did take her up on her offer and stared at the cleavage spilling out of her low cut top as they made their way to the river. Staying away from well-traveled areas, the two walked for a half hour down the coastline until Savannah was out of sight. When they finally emerged from the woods, Patrick and April gazed upon two tall ships that were much smaller than the Robin. On the shore, there was a man waiting in a small jolly boat.
“Well, Captain K.T. Brewer, I did not expect you would be greeting us yourself. What an honor,” April spoke with a hint of sarcasm.
“Arrrrr! Aye, lass. I had not laid eyes on ya in a long time," the salty sea captain replied. "I wanted to welcome ya to me ships me self.”
“Your ships?!" she questioned angrily. “The Mary Read is mine. You're just holding it. Don’t ever forget that Captain Brewer!” she threatened.
“Pardon me, me lady. Yes, you be right. Your ketch is the Mary Read, but the Black Hound, she be mine. I won that trading ketch from you in that game of dice, don’t forget that,” the captain countered. “Enough with the cordial pleasantries. Let me sail ya over to the Mary Read. Ya have four of me most trusted crew waiting for ya.” The pirate smiled mischievously as he bowed curiously, removing his hat.
“Let us cast to the waters before we draw too many eyes," April agreed.
The three boarded the small jolly boat and the Captain quickly rowed them to the ship. Patrick got an eyeful when April climbed up the netting and vaulted on the deck. It was not until Captain K.T. Brewer started scaling the rope that Patrick caught a shining, white ankle in the sunlight. After he ascended the net, he tossed down a rope and told Patrick to tie off the little boat so it would not drift away. Patrick did as instructed and then awkwardly climbed the netting, April’s bags throwing his weight off balance. Four exotic looking crewmembers helped lift the bags off his back. He ungracefully fell over the railing and splayed onto the deck. The entire crew laughed at his clumsiness.
“I see you are doing quite well for yourself. You got a new fancy hat, and oh look at that fancy new leg. Let me see it,” The madam captain commanded playfully.
The old salty Captain pulled up his pantaloons. “Well I traded in that wooden leg a few months back when I had this one made for me in the islands. It is all cut from one elephant tusk. Look at the beautiful scrimshaw work I had engraved. I thought it would make me less of a Jonah to my men.” The ivory was carved with a picture of dolphins, turtles and a black cat, for good luck. "I know you’re going to be very mad, but I could not find a black cat for your vessel. I figured me scrimshaw cat be a good substitute. I do have some extra turtle bones in me pocket if you want to use those to ward off evil spirits,” the captain offered.
“Unless you plan on leaving that leg behind on my ship, it is not going to protect me. You know it’s terrible luck to not have a black cat aboard a ship when women be sailing with you. I won’t sail without one. It is a good thing I predicted your incompetence,” she insulted.
Carefully, April took the mystery bag off her back and reached in. The bag fell to the ground revealing her holding a black cat at arm’s length. She held the cat to her chest and it purred loudly. She stroked the cat behind the ears while she warned, “This be me cat Regan. She is named after a character from King Lear. T'was the daughter who wanted to kill her father and sister and take the kingdom for herself. This cat got the same angry attitude. I advise you all to mind her. This cat does what she pleases and sleeps where she likes on this barky. Do you understand me crew?" As if on queue, the cat hissed at the crew and jumped down to inspect her new ship. The wary crew nodded in acknowledgement.
“If some evil falls on this feline, I will kill each and every one of you,” she sternly warned, pointing her finger at each man. April then went about making sure all the rituals were taken care of before she set sail. A horseshoe was still secured to the mast to keep storms away and the cat was onboard to make sure the crew would return home safely. All that was needed was for rum to be poured on the deck and in the ocean to offer the sea gods a bribe for safe passage. A crewmember scrambled to find some rum. Once a bottle was procured, April wasted no time and christened the deck and sea.
When all the rituals were properly observed, she instructed Captain K.T. Brewer to ready his Black Hound to sail soon. "I have the map and you will follow me. We will fish for a few days to seem inconspicuous, so make it look good," she ordered.
“Arrrr! Aye, Cap’n Sky. I still not be sure why you use that name out here, but I respect ya wishes," Captain Brewer called as he climbed down to his jolly boat.
“Captain Brewer I want you to come back tomorrow evening and have a drink with me guest. Raise the sails lads and pull the anchor! We be going fishing!” The madam pirate shouted.
* * *
A day had passed and Patrick Willis was relaxing on the deck, watching pelicans in the afternoon sunlight. April sat down with him and offered him a mug of rum. The scar-faced man thought it extremely odd that a woman captained a ship. It was unheard of and he could not figure out why a crew of men would follow a woman captain that dressed so vulgarly. He wanted to know more, but he also saw the small crew respected and feared her. In time maybe, he would find out why, but for the moment he thought it would be best to hold his tongue. Patrick also noticed April’s voice and mannerisms changed, depending on whom she was talking to. If it was about business or whoring, she was very polite and educated, but when she talked to her crew she spoke like a salty sea dog.
“So what is Captain Brewer’s first name and what is the story behind him? Also, why is his voice so gritty?” He asked as he sipped his mug of rum.
“His voice is like most of us who gave our lives to the ocean. A lifetime of salty air and rum is hell on your voice box. As far as his name goes, I have sailed with that man for years and I still do not know. He refuses to tell anyone because he says when you know someone’s full name you have power over them. It is much easier to cast a spell or a hex on them when you know their given name. So he only goes by his initials K and T. He has been going by his initials for so long that I don’t think he even remembers his given name.” She smiled at her own joke, then continued. “He is the only captain I know more superstitious than me after his encounter. Everyone called him mad and he could not get a crew to respect him, but I believe it really happened as he said. I am the only captain I know that will sail with him now. Ahhh, speaking of him, here he is now.”
Captain K.T. Brewer vaulted on to the deck with amazing grace considering he only had one working leg.
“I be here for your rum! Surrender it to me, lass!” The old man laughed.
Pirates of Savannah: The Complete Trilogy - Colonial Historical Fiction Action Adventure (Pirates of Savannah (Adult Version)) Page 19