by Celia Rees
We slipped away to find somewhere to sleep at a distance from them, Minerva setting sticks to warn of any approach.
I was used to sleeping on the ground, but I woke stiff and chill on the cold sand. The cook fire was already alight, so I went over to warm myself. Abe Reynolds had exchanged his steward's job for ship's cook. He gave me a dish of strong black tea and a bowl of porridge and seemed glad to see me again. I asked him how he liked life as a pirate. He replied with a grin, showing his tusky teeth, and said if there was a better one, he'd not found it. I sat on a tree trunk and broke my fast while he talked about how different the ship was now, and all around us the pirates slept on, lying where they had fallen, like an army cut down by drink.
The sun rose, heating the day, and the men were soon sweating off the rum, harnessed in teams like horses to haul the ship off the sand and into the shallows of the lagoon. Once there, it lay listing on its side, waiting for the tide to lift it further. When it was more or less floating, teams of rowers laboured at their oars, towing it to deeper water.
I was sent to help Jan Jessop, the sailmaker, with the black hoist that would fly from the main mast and instil terror in any merchantman we cared to approach. The device was of Broom's own designing: a skull over crossed bones, flanked by an hourglass and a curving cutlass.
'The meaning being that time is running out and it will be death to resist,' the sailmaker explained, without much conviction. 'Leastways, that's what the folk on the ships is supposed to think.'
Jessop was a doleful little man with a long sorrowful face and big mournful eyes. He was good with a needle, but bad at drawing. Earlier attempts had been rejected and Broom was getting increasingly impatient.
'What's that supposed to be?' he had bellowed at Jessop's last effort. 'A painted pig's bladder over a couple of sticks? What are they going to think? That I'm some fool at a fair come to beat them over the head?' He thrust the flag back at the sailmaker. 'Ship's cat could do better than that.'
I worked on a fresh piece of white cloth, drawing the skull from the ones I remembered from the memorials in St Mary's. The cutlass I borrowed from a passing pirate. I was soon surrounded by a group of admirers, nodding approval.
'That's more like it!' One of them clapped me on the back. 'Scare 'em shitless, that will! Oh,' he stopped, suddenly remembering who I was. 'Sorry, Miss. Begging your pardon.'
'I hope you're right.' I smiled as I carried on with my work. 'That's certainly my intention.'
Jessop stitched my design on to black cloth. Now we were truly ready to go on the account. Broom was delighted. He ordered the new colours raised, to signal our intent, and the sails set. The tide was at the full, just starting to turn, and a fair wind had sprung up to take us out of Cutlass Bay. Broom was setting a course for the Windward Channel between Cuba and Hispaniola. We would hang in the sea roads there, waiting for a fat merchantman sailing to or from the Islands. They were as common as chickens in a hen yard and moved about as fast, according to Vincent, so it would not be long before we took our first prize.
An invisible line divides the outlaw from the law abiding. Just being on the ship did not put us beyond it, but once we took part in an engagement, that would change everything. I put it to Minerva that we could still leave if we wanted, that the Articles were not binding upon us. She did not answer, but set her gaze resolutely seaward. Our piratical lives had begun.
21
You never forget the first attack. I was cotton-mouthed and terrified, standing at the ready, waiting to hear the two ships grind and splinter together. The waiting is the worst of it. I've seen strong men turn pale as porridge, and dash to the heads to relieve themselves, or vomit over the side. No one makes any comment. No one mocks or jeers at them, even these men who seem to laugh in the face of death itself. They stare straight ahead, gripping weapons and grappling hooks, half pikes, axes and hatchets. Sometimes, Broom ordered drums and cymbals to add to the clamour, or the cannons fired, filling the air with the reek of powder, so we boarded the prize through blinding billows of smoke. Once on the ship, then it was different. Our own fear did not compare with the terror we instilled in the ordinary crew and passengers. We would board with reckless boldness, and if the prize offered resistance, it was kill or be killed.
I stood with Minerva as our first fight came, pistols primed and slung about me, my cutlass honed sharp as a razor, my axe hanging heavy from a loop on my belt. I could not keep my legs from shaking, and my knuckles were white from gripping the rail, but Minerva had a stillness about her; her features remained calm and expressionless. I'd seen the look before, on the faces of Phillis and Thomas and the other slaves when confronted by Duke in his fury. It was not resignation, more a refusal to show any reaction to whatever fate was about to enfold her.
I was green and sick with nervousness. She put her hand on mine to steady me, whispering through the cannons' roar.
'We will watch out for each other. We will not be afraid.'
We leaped the gap between the ships together, ready to fight and die for each other, but the fight was soon over. We had barely engaged, when the company surrendered to a man. The ship was an ordinary merchant vessel and those aboard her had not signed on to fight with pirates.
They offered no resistance, but after they had laid down their weapons, I barely reached the rail. Minerva found me spewing over the side.
'Are you all right?'
'Fine.' I wiped my mouth. 'I was frightened, that's all. And ... '
'And?'
'One of the officers looks a little like William.'
'Oh?' Minerva regarded the captured group with renewed interest. 'Which one?'
'The mate.'
Minerva grinned and nodded approvingly. 'He is handsome.'
'It's not funny, Minerva.' I turned away from her. 'What if it had been him? What would he think of me? Dressed like this? A pirate? And there is more ... ' The bile rose in my throat again at the thought of it. 'He would be an enemy. He could be killed. By me.'
My words sobered Minerva. 'But he is in the Navy,' she said after some thought. 'Broom would not attack a Navy ship.' She looked at me. 'It is more likely that they would attack us.' Her words brought little comfort. I had not thought of that. 'Let's hope it does not come to it,' she added. 'The sea is wide. There is no reason why we should encounter his very ship. You must put all this out of your mind. This life is new to us, but we have no choice but to follow it. It's best not to worry about tomorrow, but to live one day at a time.'
Each attack took the same pattern. I tried to follow Minerva's advice. I put all thoughts of William out of my mind and, as one attack followed another, I lost my terror and became as fearless as the rest of the men. We sailed under false colours, a painted canvas dropped over our gun ports. Once a ship was sighted, we would make for her as a dog runs down a sheep. Sometimes Minerva and I would walk about the deck, wearing our women's apparel, so as not to alert the captain and crew of the other vessel as they viewed us through their spyglasses. We would close rapidly, being quicker in the water than most merchantmen, and as soon as we were within gun range, the false colours were hauled down, the black flag hoisted. A warning shot was fired and the gunners made ready to load chain shot to bring down the sails and rigging, grape shot and canister shot to cut through the crew. They rarely resorted to a broadside because that would damage the prize. Merely the sight of us was enough for most captains to strike their colours. To resist was to invite wholesale slaughter, that everyone knew.
Broom watched us to see how we performed. Minerva and I could expect no special treatment, he made that very clear, but he was a good captain and a canny one. Fie knew how to get the best from his crew. Minerva swarmed up the rigging as though born to it and her agility and balance made her as surefooted aloft as she wras on deck. Her fearlessness in attack and her marksmanship singled her out from the ordinary. Broom made her a sharpshooter, and when the attack came she would be hanging in the rigging with Vincent and the others,
ready to shoot out the captain, officers and helmsman on any ship that sawr fit to resist. I feared for her, for the sharpshooters were clear targets, and I dreaded seeing her tumble to the deck like a broken gull, but I learned to put such thoughts away and concentrate on the fight ahead.
Broom did not set foot on the prize until the vessel was secured, the captain and his officers disarmed and guarded, the rest of the crew and any passengers herded together on another part of the deck. Once this was done, he came aboard as if his visit were a courtesy, enquiring of the captain as to his port of origin, where he was bound and what he was carrying. Then he asked if there were any valuables, in the way of money, or bullion, adding in a quiet voice that if the captain lied, it would be the worse for him, his crew and his ship. Broom was mild compared to other pirate captains, but his outward show of affability could be far more chilling than displays of fiercesomeness.
The ship was thoroughly plundered. Every single useful thing was taken off her. Cargo, valuables, small arms, guns, supplies and equipment, personal effects. The most prized finds were gold and silver, jewellery and coin, but the days of treasure ships wTere long over. We were more likely to find sugar, rum or cocoa, or cloth and household goods, all depending on the direction in which the ship was heading, and whether she was on an outward or inward voyage.
Whatever was found had to be given up to the quartermaster, on pain of marooning, and an inventory was kept. Broom was as strict as my father on that, and since I could read, write with a clear hand, and figure, more and more it became my job to keep these records.
Minerva and I were accepted as part of the crew. We worked alongside them and shared our mess with them, but we slept away from the rest.
'Shipmates they may be,' Minerva said as she slung up her hammock, 'but they are still men.'
So we set up a place apart where we could be private. Jan Jessop rigged screens so we could dress and undress away from prying eyes and we hung sailcloth to catch rain water for our ablutions and to wash our clothes and linen. We stood guard one for the other when we bathed or used the heads. No one offered us any insult; the knives in our belts saw to that. We shared duties and stood watches, the same as any other. We neither sought nor received any favours, but when time on deck was over it was a relief to retreat to our quarters and to our own company.
I had never slept in a hammock before. Minerva took to it right away, but I continued to find it strange. Most of the time, I was so tired that I slept soundly, but one night, try as I might, I could not get comfortable. I eventually fell into a troubled sleep, made fitful by dreaming. I woke, eyes wide, bathed in sweat. It was a hot night, and stuffy below. I began to climb out of the hammock, but my movement disturbed Minerva.
'What's the matter?' she whispered.
'I cannot sleep. I'm going up on deck.'
There was a soft thud as her bare feet hit the floor. 'I'll come with you.'
'I had the dream again,' I said, as we gained the deck.
'About the Brazilian?'
I nodded.
She led me away from the watch, up towards the starboard bow. The night was clear, the air cooling to my sweating skin. The ship held steady in a gentle westerly, cutting her way through the black sea. Above us, a great spangle of stars filled the sky from horizon to horizon.
'He will come after me. He could be putting to sea this minute.'
'How can you be sure?'
'I heard the ship in my dream. The rattle of the anchor chain. The hush of her moving through the water.'
'But you don't know. "Don't fear tomorrow, till today's done with you." That's what Phillis would say.' Minerva paused. 'Did you do what she asked? Did you put the necklace awray from you?' She looked at me. 'You didn't, did you?' I shook my head. 'Phillis is wise. What she says comes to pass. You should heed her.'
'But it is so valuable.' I turned away to hide my guilt and anguish. 'This new life is uncertain. Full of danger. Who knows when we might have need of it? It seemed foolish to cast it away in such circumstances.'
Minerva nodded, as if she could see the wisdom of that. 'Where is it?'
I put my hand to my waist. 'Flere in my belt.'
'Perhaps you are uneasy because you wear it so close to you. Give it to Broom for safekeeping. Then it may cease to trouble you.'
I felt better straightaway.
'That is what I will do,' I said. 'First thing in the morning.'
Minerva smiled. Sometimes, she showed as much wisdom as her mother.
'I'm not as brave as you, Minerva,' I confided. 'Some things in this new life frighten me.'
'I am not brave.' Minerva gripped the rail. 'I feel fear as much as you. But when we attack, I think that they have come to take me back. That makes me fight the harder.'
She was silent for a while, as though she had other things to say, but when I turned to her expectantly, she just smiled and suggested that we go back to our hammocks and get some rest, or we would be too tired to work in the morning.
I did as Minerva said. Broom's eyes widened as he accepted the necklace from me, but he made no comment as he took it into his safekeeping.
At first, Minerva and I were hardly apart, the life being strange to us, but gradually we found our places on board. Minerva soon earned everyone's admiration.
'She's a born sailor,' Vincent remarked to me, his dark eyes following her progress aloft.
Minerva's natural sense of balance meant she could run along the top of the yards and then drop down on to the foot ropes when sent to loose or furl sail. It made me sick to look at the risks she took, but her tricks aloft earned her the regard of the men. She had an easy way with them, even joining in their rough humour, her quick tongue turning the joke back on any who sought to mock her or make fun. They were more wary of me, and I of them. Their teasing always made me blush, however much I tried to join in with their sporting and joking. My blushes made them laugh the harder, but they were less easy with me than with Minerva. She was much more accepted, treated as an equal and made welcome. Although she made one enemy.
Vincent had taken her in hand, as if she were his midshipman, teaching her the ropes, how to manage the sails, and how to navigate, by sextant and compass, by the stars at night. Vincent certainly spent a lot of time with her, but he treated her like a younger brother. It was as if he'd forgotten she was a woman, although I don't think Minerva had for a minute. She would admit to admiring him for his skills as a sailor, his bravery in action, and for being a man of mixed blood who had won the respect of everyone, but she blushed and laughed when I pointed out that he also cut a dashing figure and was undeniably handsome. His generous praise of her and the attention he gave to her did not make her popular with Charlie, the ship's boy, who had been the mate's erstwhile favourite.
Charlie was a surly lad, given to brooding, and no one took much notice of him, but he was like a leak beneath the water line that is easily overlooked and can, with time, bring a ship to grief as surely as a great hole in her side.
While Minerva was scaling the rat lines and walking the yards, I was given more mundane tasks. Assisting Broom with his logs and inventories, or helping Graham in his sick bay or surgery. Graham was adept at getting to the root of what caused pain. When he had seen to his other patients he turned his attentions to me.
'How are you taking to the piratical life?' he enquired, looking up from his mortar and pestle. 'Minerva seems happy enough, but what about you?'
'I live for the day,' I replied, repeating Minerva's advice.
'Really?' Graham grunted. 'How long can that go on?'
I shrugged. 'What other choice do I have?'
'Does the life not suit you?'
'It is not the danger, I am getting used to that. Or the work.' I looked at my chapped and callused hands. 'Although I fear these would never pass muster in my stepmother's drawing room.'
'What is it then? What is it that makes you unhappy? Apart from the fact that if we are captured we all might hang?' Graham gave a
hollow laugh.
'It is, indeed, related to that.'
I confided my fears about William.
'Ah, William.' Graham smiled. 'We sent your letter to him. I gave it to the bo'sun of the Sally-Anne. He stayed loyal to the captain, but he owed me a favour or two. He promised to deliver it. Did William receive it, I wonder?'
'He did,' I said. Although the thought did not cheer me. 'He thinks me lost to him,' I went on, 'but I'm not! I risked everything to stay free for him, but in doing so I've become a pirate!' I put my head in my hands, hardly able to believe the tangled mess that my life had become. 'What if he finds me out here! What if he boards the ship? What will I do?'
'You worry needlessly, my dear.' Graham shook his head. 'Broom would not attack a Navy ship. If he sights one, he'll take to his heels, and this ship is swift. They would be unlikely to catch us. You are more likely to meet him in port, and then you'll be dressed as a lady and how will he know you are a pirate? Unless you tell him?'
'Perhaps he will find me too changed!' I felt for his ring, safe round my neck, heavy on its chain, and clasped it like a talisman.
'Perhaps,' Graham agreed. 'Perhaps you will find him so too. Perhaps he will find you changed for the better. When I look at you, I still see the girl that I met on the Sally-Anne – not much different.' He smiled. 'Her eyes still brighten when she talks about her sailor-lad, like sun striking on water. She is still a little given to melancholy, and somewhat given to worry, but she has a heart that is kind and true, and a brave and generous spirit, all the better for having been tested. I also find her a little more knowledgeable about how other people live in the world, rather less given to self pity, and a great deal less selfish. Do not fret so, my dear. Any man would be lucky to have you as a wife. Pirate, or no pirate.'
I took comfort from Graham's words and began to feel a little more settled. Apart from when we were on the attack, the time on board was spent in the same way as on any other vessel. Merely keeping the ship afloat and moving through the water took constant work and effort. There was little time for idleness Broom liked a tidy ship – but there were quiet times when the men gathered together. They would collect just at the fall of evening, as the sun was sinking, and sit about on the deck, taking a pipe or two, drinking their ration of rum or a flagon of beer, and yarn until full night came and the watch was set. Minerva and I were welcomed, shipmates like the rest, and the stories would begin.