Pirate's Redemption

by Camille Oster

  They left Isla Rosa behind and no ships were pursuing them. It had all gone remarkably smoothly, except he had to carry the girl most of the way, leaving his shoulder tense from the uneven burden.

  He'd watched her for a day or so, seeing what she did, spying on her as she worked in the tavern. She'd almost been complicit, providing an opportunity to take her, going for a walk along the isolated beach at a time when no one was around.

  "Take the helm, Smitty," he said to his sailing master. As they were now in the clear, he made his way down the stairs into what was officially his quarters.

  Opening the door, he saw the girl standing in the middle of the cabin, her arms still crossed and a mutinous look on her face. "No one's coming after you," he said. "We're in the clear." It was hardly surprising. Who'd gather a crew and go sailing after a bar wench? She'd obviously been smart and kept her identity secret. Otherwise, someone would have sought to use her against the English.

  "Where are you taking me?"

  "To England, of course."

  "Now? Are we sailing to England now?" Surprise registered on her features.

  "No," he said, walking over to the table and sitting down at one of its chairs. "We will not sail the ship to England. Most of these men cannot, and would not, go anywhere near England. First, we will head to Tortuga Bay."

  Taking an involuntary step back, the girl seemed to pale. He wasn't surprised. Tortuga Bay had a notorious reputation. Even a vice-admiral's daughter would have heard of it. And he could tell by her expression that she had. "Don't worry. You'll be quite safe, provided you don’t do anything stupid."

  The girl looked uncomfortable with both his presence and the destination, but if she had survived in Isla Rosa, Tortuga Bay would not shock her. He moved and she startled. She was frightened of him, that much was obvious. He was probably the one person, though, that she had nothing to fear from.

  Considering her, he wondered how she'd fared in Isla Rosa. She showed no open distress, but then she had fought him, so she knew there was something to fear. It saddened him to think of the lessons she'd learned. In her position in life, she'd largely been protected from anything remotely close to bad behavior. Perhaps that had made her less capable of a challenging situation, but then he had found her in a better state than he'd expected, serving as a bar wench. "You have nothing to fear from me. My only interest is in taking you back to your father. I will do my best to protect you on the way."

  "My father? My father sent you? Why isn't he here?"

  "It would be diplomatically difficult for him to come here, or anyone else as the commander of the Royal Navy, considering this is Spanish territory, and also one of its less savory ports."

  "So he sent you, someone who doesn't belong to the Royal Navy."

  "Yes."

  "And who are you?"

  "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Joshua Havencourt, formerly a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. At your service."

  "Formerly. What are you now? You're a pirate," she stated.

  Leaning back against the chair's armrest, he crossed his arms. "Yes, I am a pirate." It hurt to admit it, but it was what he was. As much is he liked to think himself different from the men back in Tortuga Bay, he was a pirate just like them.

  She chuckled bitterly. "He sent a pirate to get me. And what did he promise you in return? I suppose he paid for your services."

  "In a manner of speaking." In some way, his service was less than she expected, a clear disappointment to her. "I apologize if this rescue is not up to your usual standards."

  With arms still crossed tightly, she looked down at her feet. "How long will it take to sail to Tortuga Bay?"

  "A couple of days. We should be there later tomorrow. From there we'll make our way to Port Royal and find a ship heading back to England."

  Rising from his chair, Joshua made his way outside, giving the young man a sharp look to ensure he wouldn't be negligent in his duties of keeping the girl contained in the cabin. No doubt, it was going to be a very long voyage in her company. Rightly perhaps, she looked down on his company, a reflection of how he’d spent his last few years. But this would all change now—this pardon was within reach. A level of excitement for the future built in him, an excitement he hadn't felt in a while.

  It was a simple task, really—deliver the girl and then he was free to return to his life. Turning his attention to the sea, he scanned the horizon, searching for any threat to the shining future he now saw before him. He moved up to the quarterdeck and relieved Smitty of the helm. The ship groaned with the strain of the wind on the sails. He would miss sailing, probably more than he could account now, but he missed his family more. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

  Chapter 5

  It was late afternoon when the ship’s speed started slowing, which Sarah assumed meant they had reached Tortuga Bay. The noise of the man over her head grew more frantic as they prepared to reach their destination. Sarah had had to open one of the windows to let air circulate in the cabin as the midday heat had made the space stifling. Now she stood by the window, looking at the stern of the ship and seeing sandy beaches and lush tropical vegetation.

  She wondered what Tortuga Bay would be like, if it would be different from Isla Rosa. It was another pirate haven, the most notorious one of all. Back home, they told tales about Tortuga Bay. Her brother, fascinated by any pirate story, would listen to any tales told by the visitors to their house, absorbing any information. Well, she had some tales of her to tell now. William wasn’t a boy anymore, and may not be interested in her experiences.

  And sadness washed over her as she thought of her reception by her family. These events have made her less amenable, perhaps even sullied. Surely her father had to realize she hadn’t come out of this entirely unscathed. What kind of reception would she have when she arrived at home? Would she be hidden away from prying eyes? Or would they ignore it, as if it never happened?

  Behind her, the door to the cabin swung open and the pirate stood in the doorway. "We have arrived," he stated. He didn't smile, or in any way look happy; he just left the door open as he stepped back out of sight. Sarah tentatively walked out the door, feeling as if she was leaving the safety of the cabin behind. The uncertainty that she'd felt when she'd first been taken had returned. It was the uncertainty that was uncomfortable. She didn't know what would happen in the next few moments, what she'd be subjected to, and that was what bothered her more than anything else. But equally, there was a sense of excitement—she was about to see Tortuga Bay, the notorious Tortuga Bay. How many girls got to see this? How many would even believe the things she'd seen?

  Walking out on deck, she had to shield her eyes from the bright light. Men were still running around, lowering the sails, releasing ropes and tying everything up. The ship was drifting in along the jetty in front of a nondescript town. She was a little disappointed; she expected more, but it was just a few buildings jumbled together.

  "Welcome to Tortuga Bay," the pirate said behind her.

  She turned to him, considering him. He was tall, and strong. She knew that from being carried across half an island. "Do you live here?"

  "I have been. We’ll stay a few days, then we’ll leave."

  Sarah turned back to the town, watching as the men streamed off the ship and scattered along the alleys of the town. The whole town was made of wood, unadorned and unpainted.

  "Shall we go?" he asked.

  Moving over to where the planks lay between the ship and the jetty, she carefully walked over, seeing the water below her. She could see right to the bottom of the sea, which looked a far way down. For a moment, she got a sense of vertigo, so she rushed over to the jetty before she let it claim her. He seemed to have no problems and casually walked across the planks to join her.

  Walking past her, he waited for her to follow. He obviously wasn't as concerned about her running away here. Perhaps there was nowhere to run to. It looked like there were miles and miles of jungle beh
ind them.

  She did believe him, that he was taking her back to England. Perhaps she shouldn't, but for some reason she trusted him at his word. Tentatively, she followed as he led her to the town across wooden planks that served as the street. Elaborate windows have been repurposed, creating a strange look to many of the buildings.

  The town looked larger walking along it than it did from the shore. Perhaps that was intentional, so it couldn't be seen easily from the sea. They arrived at a large building with two stories and the pirate opened the door for her, leading her inside. The interior was surprisingly luxurious, with red velvet wall coverings and gilded furniture. Carpets covered all of the floors.

  Elaborately dressed women milled around, entertaining men—pirates. It was a tavern of some kind, but not like any Sarah had ever seen. Or at least any she had been into. But she wasn't innocent enough to not know what kind of establishment this was. "Why have you brought me here?"

  But before he could answer, a woman in a dark emerald gown approached. She was beautiful, with blonde hair elaborately styled around her head. "You have been successful,” she said to the pirate, smiling gently and putting her hand on his lower arm. There was a familiarity between them; Sarah could tell. “This is her?" the woman asked.

  "May I introduce Lady Sarah Lancaster," he said. "This is Madame Guerier, the owner of this establishment, and has been known to host wayward girls when needed. You will be safe here. No one on this island would dare to cross Madame Guerier." His fondness was apparent in both his voice and features. He cared for this woman, maybe even loved her.

  "Would you like some refreshment?" the woman said, turning her attention back to Sarah.

  "I must see to the ship," the pirate stated, "but stay here. As I said, this is the safest place to be. Wandering around might not be advisable." With confident strides, he walked out the door without another word.

  "Our Lieutenant Havencourt has lost some of his manners during his time with us, but he is a good man,” the woman said.

  Strictly, he wasn't a lieutenant if he was an outlaw, Sarah wanted to point out. Being exposed to all manner of naval talk during suppers, she knew the ins and outs of the navy, and a pirate could not claim the honor and title of lieutenant.

  "Come sit down. Would you like some wine?" Madame Guerier asked, her manner gentle. She had a slight accent—French most likely, but it seemed to have been tempered with time.

  Sarah wasn't sure she should be in an establishment like this, but the woman seemed kind. Undeniably, she was curious about this woman and the establishment she ran. Once at home, she would never have a chance to speak to a woman like this again.

  A girl walked over with the carafe of wine and two glasses. She wore an indecently low-cut dress, where the mounds of her breasts showed like white hills and valleys above the neckline. The girl smiled brightly with rouged lips, then walked away again, sashaying so her hips swayed. Such overt femininity would never be tolerated in Sarah’s life.

  These women were supposed to be dreadful creatures—corrupted and base, but the girl, as well as the woman sitting in front of her, looked beautiful and serene. However, Sarah wasn't innocent enough to not know that looks could be deceiving.

  "There is a room for you upstairs that you are welcome to use while you are here. You will be safe there. Lieutenant Havencourt believes that you are better off in the company of women. As I'm sure you understand, the men on this island are of a rougher cut."

  Sarah didn't know what to say, but she knew what the woman meant. On Isla Rosa, she'd learned about rough men and their ways. But this woman seemed to have taken command of her life and established a business. "How long have you been here?" Sarah asked, looking around the sumptuously decorated parlor. There were things of the highest quality, showing the wealth of this woman.

  "About five years," the woman said. "It's not so bad when you get used to it."

  Another woman came through the door, one wearing breeches and boots, a white shirt wrapped around her middle. Her hair was loose and flowing, her eyes bright. "This is her?" the woman asked. "I heard he was back."

  Another woman who seemingly cared for this pirate. He might be quite the Lothario of this place. Admittedly, he was handsome enough. It was perhaps not surprising that women adored him.

  "This is Clara Rossi," Madame Guerier said. "This is her town."

  "What do you mean?" Sarah asked, thrown by the extraordinary statement.

  "She owns the town; she owns the whole operation here. What she says goes."

  Sarah turned to the woman with new eyes. How could that be? She was so young. How could she own the town? The woman smiled and held out her hand. Rising from a chair, Sarah shook it. They must be about the same age; she couldn't be much older. "All the people here do what you say?" Sarah asked. It was the most extraordinary thing she'd ever heard.

  "Well, they don't have to, but they might want to."

  "He's just sinking anchor," Madame Guerier stated, obviously speaking about the pirate. "He won't be long. Would you like a wine?"

  "Perhaps a little," Clara said and sat down. Sarah could see the protrusion along her belly. This girl was with child. She accepted the fine crystal goblet and took a sip of the ruby red liquid. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks rosy. This was not a woman subdued in any way. This was a woman who knew her place and had a voice. Her hand subconsciously rubbed across her belly and she smiled. What Sarah saw in her eyes was happiness and contentment, and she felt humbled by it.

  “I can’t wait. I must see to the stores,” Clara finally said.

  “May I join you?” Sarah asked hopefully, fascinated by this girl who had in some way conquered this part of the Caribbean.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Sarah rose and followed her as she walked out the door. “How is it this town is yours?”

  “My father built it and I inherited it—not that he made it easy for me. He was a right bastard and made me beat every man on the island.”

  With widened eyes, she followed Clara into a huge store that was filled with sacks and barrels.

  “This is where we keep the commodities. We sell them up north. The French are very accommodating that way. We have a shipment later in the week.”

  “I suppose you don’t have to worry about pirates?”

  “Funnily enough, we do, but they would have to be foolhardy or very brave to take on our guns.”

  “How did you manage to beat every man on the island? What did you have to do?” Sarah asked, sitting herself down on a barrel while Clara checked whatever she was here to ascertain.

  “With Lieutenant Havencourt’s help. He may not always apply himself, but he is one of the most competent pirates there are.” Clara threw her a look to accentuate what she was saying. “There were a set of challenges and in the end, I came out on top. Although it turns out the competition wavered a little when it came down to it, so I simply slipped past him.”

  “Your father made you fight every person here?”

  “Turns out it was a good thing. These dogs are careful to challenge me now, knowing that. If I hadn’t, there would have been no end of trouble. It was the hard way, but sometimes the hard way is better.”

  Biting her nail, Sarah considered what Clara had said. The hard way. There was reward in persevering, in enduring, and Clara had conquered. Sarah couldn’t help but be immensely impressed.

  “I thought I told you to stay with Madame Guerier’s,” a harsh voice said at the doorway, making Sarah jump.

  “I found something more interesting,” Sarah said, lifting her head in challenge.

  "I'll take you back to your room," he said tersely.

  “Don’t be such a brute,” Clara said with amusement, but the pirate only scowled before taking her by the elbow and leading her away.

  “I was not jesting when I said you shouldn’t walk around on your own here.”

  “I wasn’t on my own.”

  He marched her back to Madame Guerier’s
establishment, straight through to the stairs leading to the story above. She was still too baffled by the women she’d met that day to even consider that it was unusual a man taking her to her room. At the landing, he urged her ahead of him down a hall where rooms led off both sides. "There are some extraordinary women here," she said.

  "Yes, there are.”

  "These women have made a place for themselves, even thrived."

  "They've had to. Necessity is a great motivator."

  "How is it that Clara owns the town? She said she had to fight for it. Does she have a husband?" She was with child, so Sarah assumed there was one.

  "She won it," he said to her surprise. "She took on every capable pirate here and she won. And yes, she has a husband."

  "That's extraordinary." Clara had said as much, but hearing it confirmed only made it even more unfathomable.

  "Yes, it is," he said with a smile as he opened a door to a room that was much finer than anything she'd seen for quite a while. White silk wallcoverings were painted with tiny red roses and a brass bed sat in the corner with a stuffed mattress and clean blankets. A table stood along the window with the bowl for washing. The room even had a wardrobe if she had anything to hang in it. It was a beautiful room.

  Sarah couldn't wait to undress and wash. It had been days. She'd been too scared to ask on the ship and had been too concerned been caught in flagrante on a ship full of men. For months, she'd been subject to the gazes of leering men, and she wasn't going to get caught vulnerable—she'd rather stink.

  But here, there was even a lock on the door. She could lock herself away and be on her own in a room meant for a woman. It even compared well with her room at home—not as large or as grand, but certainly comfortable. Soon, if he would only leave, she would be clean and safe.

  Turning to him, she waited. With a nod, he left without saying anything more. Perhaps Madame Guerier was right: he had lost manners. Being of gentlemanly origins, he wasn't perhaps showing the right degree of politeness, but politeness was the least of considerations in a place like this.