The Pirate Fairy

by A. J. Llewellyn

  “He has been beaten,” Fellows whispered to Denny. “Woodruff mentioned to me that you observed this and it’s true. But some of the bruising and marks are scurvy. Obviously he is suffering severe malnutrition and advanced scurvy.” He pointed to the dark spots all over Merritt’s arms and legs and raised his voice. “His severe lack of vitamins has affected him tremendously. We can help him recover quickly with fresh sweet peppers. We have a supply of capsicums on board. Fresh fruit would help.” He paused. “Tropical fruit and broccoli. We have some of both.” He glanced at Denny, inclining his head. “We will discuss more privately.”

  They took a moment to walk outside. Fellows looked shaken. “He was sodomized and has not healed well. I think it’s more than I can handle.”

  Silence fell between them, and Denny swallowed. “Is that the smell?”

  “Yes. He does not seem in pain, but there is some sort of anal fissure, which explains the smell. I’d like to suggest a treatment of leeches.”

  “Absolutely not.” Denny had never approved of the method of putting blood-sucking worms on a man’s skin. “He doesn’t have any blood clots that I can see.” Blood-letting would surely kill poor Merritt faster than allowing him to rest and heal.

  Fellows looked disappointed. “My leeches won’t survive if I don’t give them fresh blood soon.” He cast a hopeful glance at Denny, who shook his head.

  “Don’t look at me. I hate bloody leeches!”

  He returned to Merritt, whose gaze kept flicking around the sickbay. He let out a gasp when Denny left a few minutes later, as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t. Denny quickly returned with some of his own clean nightclothes out of his cabin. He helped the woman dress Merritt.

  “Food,” Denny muttered. “I’ll get him some.”

  “No!” she commanded, looking terrified. What was going on? Was it just their recent captivity, or something else?

  “You’re safe here,” he assured her. “Nobody will hurt your brother anymore. Not on my ship.”

  She didn’t seem convinced.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Soriano,” she responded, her eyes downcast.

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s a small volcanic island off the coast of Honduras. Not many people have heard of it.” She lifted her head and her defiant gaze made her eyes seem black. She blinked and they were a warm chocolate brown.

  He’d been sure her eyes were blue but maybe he was wrong. It had been a weird day, after all.

  “And what is your name?” he asked.

  “What is your name?” she retorted, her tone prim.

  “Captain Denny Derrick Dalton. At your service.”

  “My name is Fortunata.” She looked at him as though expecting him to know of her name, then gripped his hand with a fierce shake of her slim fingers.

  He almost screamed in pain when a couple of his bones cracked. She didn’t break them but he was certain she could crumble rocks with those frightening digits.

  “Okay,” he said, breathing through the surge of agony. “If you would like to supervise the cooking, I’m sure the cook won’t mind.”

  Ebba and her brother Larks had left the ship a few weeks before, and though Denny had adored Ebba’s cooking, he knew she would never have tolerated Fortunata’s scrutiny.

  Merritt’s sister disappeared then returned twenty minutes later with a beef stew Merritt took in small, hesitant bites. He also nibbled at the strips of red capsicum that she fed him. He fell back against his pillows after a few spoonfuls, as though the effort had cost him. And it probably had. Denny had never seen somebody in such a bad state. Fellows told him later that day that Merritt would have been dead within two days had help not arrived. The crew of the La-Di-Da found the missing pirate floating out at sea. He had taken a barrel of rum from the Charlotte’s stocks but had somehow drowned. Denny’s men brought the barrel aboard and left Scruggs out there, lifelessly floating in the water.

  Denny didn’t know how the man had died and didn’t care. He, like Fortunata and Fellows, worried about Merritt’s shut-down condition. Over the next two days, various crewmembers sat with Merritt so he was never alone. Somehow, he improved dramatically. One evening, Denny went to visit him with a bowl of stew that included the remains of the Italian pasta they’d traded with a Sardinian ship docked in Nantes, France.

  Merritt seemed to like the small, toasted balls of pasta called fregula. For the first time, Denny and Merritt talked. Merritt’s cheeks were filling in and he laughed at Denny’s pronunciation of fregula. He’d said Freg-you-la.

  Merritt’s eyes danced with amusement as he said, “It’s freg-oola.”

  Denny laughed too. He didn’t feel mocked. He was certain Merritt liked him. The young man was recuperating faster than Denny had expected, but Fellows had advised him that with constant helpings of fresh fruit and sweet peppers, Merritt could regain much of his strength and gain significant health within a few weeks.

  This both pleased and devastated Denny. He knew Fellows wanted to take Merritt to the local hospital in San Juan, the Puerto Rican port that, weather permitting, they would reach in about three weeks. Denny wanted Merritt to regain his health and his masculine confidence but he feared losing the one man he felt he could talk to. Denny knew he was setting himself up for a collision course with disaster because he was falling in love. Merritt became his focus, and his joy. Minutes with him became precious. He adored every second with the magnificent young man whose gaining vitality revealed a little more of the vibrant, handsome Merritt really was.

  Denny never spoke of his rising feelings for Merritt. He cradled his love within, like a mother hen protecting a hard-laid egg. He had never felt such tenderness or such incredible passion for another man. It took Denny another week to realize his feelings were being returned. And one person was acutely aware and not at all pleased. His frosty, controlling sister, Fortunata. Sometimes Denny caught her looking at him in a way that made her seem more fearsome than even the strongest, most homicidal men he’d encountered on the high seas.

  And yet, she was beautiful, and could be charming when she chose to be so.

  I don’t trust her. I have a horrible feeling she could be the death of me.

  Chapter Seven

  Merritt sat against a rock eating an apple picked from a tree on the outskirts of Gremma’s property. Now that his faculties were returning to him he could see the almost invisible, shimmery web that she or, more likely, Fortunata had cast on the ground and trees. He doubted it was the work of Gremma because she’d been surprised to find Cillian lying dead on the ground.

  “But there is nothing here that would ever harm an animal,” she’d told Fortunata.

  Now that he saw the invisible force field, Merritt knew his favorite horse’s death had not been the result of poisoning. The apple Elvin had given Merritt hadn’t been tainted and the cut inflicted on Cillian hadn’t led to his death. The force field had killed him, but what evil, potent magic had been in it to inflict such harm? He sighed, relieved at least that Elvin hadn’t plotted Merritt’s death.

  Fortified once more, Merritt moved forward, determined to grab the cloak, confront Gremma and finally end his sister’s cruel practices. He swayed suddenly and blinked.

  It’s Denny. I think he’s here. The knowledge both pleased and frightened him. Denny was close. They’d been so far apart, and yet, he would go on trial, and with the bizarre jury running the court these days he could hang before nightfall, or be kept in leg irons for months.

  He hurried toward Gremma’s house. He flicked a hand toward the bewitched land but nothing moved. Still cursed. Damn. I need the cloak. I must tear it apart to destroy its power. Merritt took a few more steps and heard ragged sobs. Following the sound, he took care to be quiet. Merritt was stunned when he saw Gremma sitting, sprawled on the ground, examining her face in a green, handheld mirror. She looked even more decrepit, and older than she had the day before, but in the mirror, she was young and b
eautiful again.

  “Merritt,” she breathed, lifting a tearstained face up to him.

  “Gremma.” In spite of all that had happened between them, in spite of all the rotten things she’d done over the years, he pitied her. “I can save you.”

  Her eyes shone, tears still leaking down her face.

  “But you must do everything I tell you to do, and when it’s done, you must leave this island.”

  “Leave?” She looked shocked.

  “Leave,” he repeated. “Forever.”

  She looked surprised, then wary and angry. Another wart sprouted on her hand. She gave a little shriek. “I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you say, only make this stop,” she begged.

  “Where is my sister?” he asked, dropping beside Gremma.

  “I haven’t seen her. She disappeared yesterday, and then this happened.” She dropped the mirror in her lap and opened the top button of the coat she was wearing. Oozing, green sores appeared all over her neck. “Are you sure you can save me?”

  Lightning crackled overhead.

  Merritt glanced up at the sky and smiled. “I think my sister just realized your magic is not only failing, but coming back to hurt her. Twofold.”

  * * * *

  The La-Di-Da

  A year earlier…

  Denny wasn’t sure when Fortunata first became aware of the growing, gentle romance between Denny and Merritt, but he was convinced that she sensed it. She took to making sure the two men had little time alone together. The few private moments they shared were spent uttering words and sharing kisses Denny had never exchanged with anyone, especially another man. He’d had plenty of sex, but had never dared lay his soul bare with another. The times he and Merritt were together and unable to touch were agony for both of them. As soon as Fortunata or whoever was with them would leave, Merritt would whisper, “Kiss me, please.”

  His hands would shake and his lips would tremble as they shared soul embraces Denny had never dreamed were possible. He began to have vivid dreams of a life he’d never allowed himself, a kind of happiness he’d imagined would always be denied him because of his sexual preferences. He made no secret of his homosexuality, but didn’t flaunt it either.

  They’d been at sea two weeks when Merritt started walking on deck. His first attempts were pathetic, by his own admission. Denny admired his sense of humor and determination. The entire crew was stunned by his marked improvements.

  “I’m a better doctor than I thought,” Fellows kept telling everyone.

  Whenever he went on this way, Fortunata glared at him. Denny put it down to sheer possessiveness. She loved Merritt with such an obsession that it continued to scare Denny. When she would turn around and be sweet to him again, he’d experience extreme feelings of guilt for being suspicious of her.

  As the days went by and Merritt grew stronger, he wanted to help with ship duties. Nobody would let him, but everybody admired his fighting spirit. It turned out he was an expert mapmaker, but told Denny that when the boat he’d shared with his sister and two cousins had been hijacked, all his maps and tools had been destroyed.

  Denny showed him a map of the Caribbean, hoping Merritt could show him his island home off the coast of Honduras. Merritt just smiled. “It’s not on any map,” he said, not even glancing at Denny’s well-marked papers. “But trust me, it’s there. Doriana is a paradise.”

  Denny stared at him. Fortunata had called the island Soriano, but Merritt called it Doriana. Were they both…cuckoo? Or had Denny misheard her the first time Fortunata mentioned it?

  He leaned toward the latter. After all, they’d been under extreme survival conditions and the two names were close. Weren’t they? And yet, questions persisted and niggled at him.

  Merritt was a hearty eater who endured plates of raw peppers and slightly cooked broccoli with a stoic air. Fellows had done some research in the musty old textbooks he’d inherited when the crew had taken over the ship. He told Denny and Merritt that doctors prescribed the addition of fried seal meat to a scurvy patient’s diet, but the idea horrified both Merritt and Denny.

  “I’m fine with everything I’m already eating. Honest!” Merritt insisted.

  “But seals are delicious,” Fellows said, clearly disappointed. He gave Denny a bleak look that might have said, ‘First no leeches. Now this.’

  With Merritt’s improved health, shipboard dinners became entertaining affairs with different crewmembers performing each night. Fortunata had a wonderful voice and sang beautiful, haunting love songs, but nothing beat Merritt’s plaintive Oh, Tell Me How from Love to Fly. Denny thought he was listening to an angel.

  “Oh, tell me how from love to fly, its dangers how to shun. To guard the heart, to shield the eye, or I must be undone!” Merritt sang the lyrics with a soul-tearing heartbreak that left everyone silent. He seemed to be staring right at Denny, who glanced away when Fortunata narrowed her gaze and glared at him.

  Rigby was in the mood for laughter and began singing the rousing chorus from Drunken Sailor. He would have gone on until morning screaming, “What shall we do with the drunken sailor?” over and over again. He would have knocked back more shots of rum, had he not got kicked by one of the crewmen and keeled over in the midst of laughter. He had then fallen into a merciful, silent sleep. Denny and Fellows carried him to his cabin, Merritt and Fortunata right behind them. From the sounds of muted laugher, the others had continued drinking in comparative quiet.

  “Is he always like that?” Fortunata asked with a haughty air, staring daggers at the snoozing Rigby.

  “One sniff of the barmaid’s skirt and he’s impossible.” Fellows rolled his eyes.

  “Well, we wish you goodnight,” Fortunata responded.

  Merritt echoed her words, his gaze fastened on Denny. His sister pulled him by the arm, leading him away. Denny and Fellows paused for breath. Fellows huffed as they dragged Rigby to the quarterdeck, where he lived with the other ship’s officers.

  As they pulled off Rigby’s boots and outer garments, Rigby unleashed a sort of mad giggle and sang, “What do we do with…” before falling asleep again in the middle of the chorus.

  “Is it just me or does he pong?” Fellows’ nose twitched.

  “Aye, he needs a bath,” Denny agreed, sliding into an immediate panic.

  Fellows scrunched his nose and gave a shudder. “How does he breathe in his own fumes?”

  Denny shrugged, privately fretting. What if he himself needed a bath? He raced to his cabin to bathe before going to visit Merritt to wish him a goodnight. Cold water and soap from a basin was a small improvement, especially when he rinsed out the water three times until it almost ran clear, but he felt he needed something more, especially since he was putting back on the same clothing. He tiptoed back to Rigby’s cabin where his second mate was snoring in bed like a hibernating bear. Denny borrowed Rigby’s proudest purloined item in life, a bottle of the French perfumer Farina’s Eau de Cologne. It had belonged to a British officer whose private quarters had been ransacked by Denny and his crew when his sloop had been moored at the Port of Antwerp in Belgium.

  The cologne had a distinctive, pungent scent. People said that Napoleon loved the stuff. Wait. He didn’t exactly have a happy ending… As Denny dabbed a bit on his face and under his armpits, worried thoughts crossed his mind. Yeah, but look what happened to him. People also said the cologne came from the town where the water was supposed to be strong enough to ward off the bubonic plague. I hope so. Not that I’m expecting to get that any time soon. Not getting bitten by any rats today, thank you…

  He returned the bottle to Rigby’s cabin then went back to his own quarters, checking his appearance in the cracked hand mirror he’d pinched in the raid on the British sloop. Denny thought he looked okay, though his head itched something fierce. Then his chin prickled. Denny scratched at it, dismayed because it seemed that the finer things in life just weren’t meant for him. The sensation grew worse so he washed his face and head, his hair still drippin
g a little as he went off to visit Merritt.

  Merritt was still sleeping in the sickbay even though he had most of his meals with the others. He lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, bolting upward when Denny entered the room.

  “She’s coming back,” Merritt whispered. He sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?” His eyes widened. “Why did you come here wearing cologne? You can’t even kiss me now. She’ll know!” The desolate expression on his face did more for Denny’s self-esteem than all the kisses in the world.

  He likes me. He really does. Denny did an inward jig. “’Tis no matter. I wanted to see you. Where did she go?”

  Merritt kept sniffing. “You’ve bathed.” He looked surprised.

  “Um, yeah.” Denny frowned. Boy, I must have needed it worse than I thought.

  Merritt plumped up his pillows so that he was half sitting and half lying back on his bunk. “She’s in her cabin mixing some herbal concoction for me. They always taste terrible but they do work.”

  Denny was afraid to ask what was in these concoctions and he hoped she wasn’t planning on coming back anytime soon, but seconds later she was there. She smiled when she saw that Denny was nowhere near her brother.

  “Ah, Captain,” she said, her tone a warm purr. Boy, does she know how to manipulate and charm me. Calling me captain… “I would have brought you a tonic had I known you’d be here.” She turned to her brother. “Drink up, darling. This will soothe your liver.”

  Merritt sat up straighter and took the cup she offered him. Denny stared at it. It looked as though it was made of gold. Where had she found it? She’d come on board the La-Di-Da with nothing. Or had she? I have to get into her cabin and look at the stuff she’s using to mix her potions.

  Denny loitered for a few minutes but finally excused himself. He returned to his cabin, exhausted. Stripping off most of his clothes, he kept his vest and undergarments on then threw himself into bed. The ship’s cat, Theodore, came out from under the bed and joined him. Denny loved that cat more than anyone or anything else in the world, except Merritt, and he let the orange tabby snuggle beside him. Theodore was a funny cat. He wasn’t particularly affectionate but liked snuggling and would purr for half an hour upon close contact with Denny. I think I do the same thing with Merritt, come to think of it.