Bartolo, the steward, crept quietly into the darkness of the captain’s cabin. Ever loyal, he would follow her orders, but he never enjoyed being the one to wake her when she needed the rest so badly. Somewhere under that wild pile of covers slept not some mere woman, but a captain that had stood her post with the rest of the men through three days and nights of fearsome storms. A woman he had at one time the honor of calling sister. A leader that he would proudly serve until his dying breath.
His brother had always been a fool, but never so much so as when Grace O’Malley had been concerned. First a fool for thinking she would ever be solely devoted to one man in marriage. She had loved him and tried to dissuade him, but he had managed to win her father over all those years ago. Master O’Malley was the one man she would not defy, so she married the fool. Twice he was a fool in thinking anyone but Captain O’Malley would be able to lead her men. She saved the fool in the nick of time from a mutiny he deserved. Thrice a fool that he ever dared to take one of her father’s ships and go it on his own. He died of his own foolishness.
Something in Captain O’Malley had died, too. But she kept it to herself. She was ever the mother, lover, saint, and savior to the men she had won ultimate devotion from.
Bartolo slowly opened the thick velvet curtain to let the subtropical light spill into the cabin. The pale soles of dainty fee protruded from the mass of blankets at one end, a wild mess of glossy black waves cascaded from the other. He knew it was because she once called him brother that she allowed him such unguarded entry into her private corners. She was her own protector and trusted none. Every woman, no matter how strong she could be, deserved a protector and a champion, as well as a lover and companion. He whispered a prayer that the Almighty would send her a worthy man, and soon.
Grace tried to curl up deeper into the sleeping alcove. She knew that Bartolo’s presence meant they were nearing Havana and that she must arise, but every fiber of her being continued to cry out for more rest. Her head throbbed with the need of it. She wondered why couldn’t she have been a man and not fettered by womanly frailties. No matter how or what she had tried, there was no hardening of what was intended to be soft. She knew she was chiding herself uselessly, so she willed herself to get out of the bed and get on with business. The strength she needed was always there when she needed it, her father’s words reverberated in her ears.
She relinquished and rolled over to look at Bartolo standing in the middle of the cabin, head down, eyes averted.
“Report.” Her voice was dry and crackled.
“We are about to make port, Captain. The watch in the nest thought he spotted the lines of the Black Dragon already in the harbor, ma’am.”
“Very well. Leave me my things. I’ll be on deck shortly.”
Bartolo quickly exited.
Havana. Something about its sultry air seemed to suit the Spaniards who had settled it. Grace longed to spend several languid afternoons here just watching the rest of the world come and go. But there was no time for that now. Time had become far more precious than the gold aboard a Spanish galleon. Every moment they remained at anchor was a moment more for Captain Shireland to further her own plots. Once again information, not treasure, was the prize. She needed to know what the crew of the Ocean’s Whore had been up to while they had been laid up repairing the Black Dragon. More importantly they needed to know where the Whore would turn up next. She had gathered a few of those answers in Port Royal. She prayed Captain O’Shea’s trip to San Juan had been equally fruitful. A seemingly chance encounter at El Corazon de la Mar would be their opportunity to discuss matters and take action.
Liam sat in a dark corner of the loud and busy Corazon de la Mar. He slowly nursed a bottle of rum as he watched the crowd ebb and flow, being very careful to keep his wits about him. There would be business to attend to as soon as the good Captain O’Malley arrived. But women could be such a fickle lot, and he had no idea when she might decide to show. The warming caress of the rum was tempting him further and further into the bottle, soon he would not care at all who he was supposed to be meeting. Fate had determined to save him from his weakness that night, for at that moment the crowds began to part as if a storm were blowing through their midst. Grace O’Malley seemed to be a force of nature that none dared to oppose. She ordered the serving wenches about as if they were her own crew. Once her men were all cared for, she scanned the room. The moment her gaze landed on him, he felt that the tide itself was about to overtake him. Suddenly the rum lost its hold on him.
“Captain O’Shea, fancy meeting you here,” she called out loud enough to cut through even the most committed drunk’s stupor.
“Captain O’Malley, only a hurricane could match the devastation you leave in your wake,” he grumbled as she took a seat across the table from him.
“I see the rum still has a pleasant affect upon humor, Liam,” she returned quietly.
“Tis not the rum, but your flagrant lack of discretion. I thought this was to be a clandestine meeting.”
“Clandestine in that no one was to know we intended to meet, O’Shea. Do you really think we could a rendezvous without anyone’s notice?”
“Unlikely.”
“Better to give the wagging tongues a story we’d like them to tell, than let them give into their own conjectures.”
“True enough,” he sighed in exasperation.
“What news from San Juan,” she asked.
“You have many friends in San Juan, but a certain tavern keeper was the most helpful by far. His daughter’s keen ears picked up some delightful tid-bits.”
A serving wench came to the table to offer a refill of their drinks. Once she had passed out of ear shot, he continued.
“It would seem that one of the lady’s galley men over enjoyed his drink while they were in port on Hispaniola. He was passed out in the arms of a plump little wench when Captain Shireland took her leave and set sail. Unfortunately, the fare aboard the ‘Whore’ has been sorely lacking in his absence.”
“That could be advantageous to our plans, indeed. I will have to honor my friendship with the worthy tavern master and his daughter.”
“More advantageous than you may suppose, m’ lady.”
“How so, O’Shea?”
Liam gestured to one of his men a couple of tables away. The man got up and left the tavern.
“I may have just the crewman to insert into the vacancy aboard the Ocean’s Whore,” he smiled slyly. “My man went to get our possible little spy. What news have you while we wait for their return?”
“Port Royal was abuzz with news of recent British Naval successes. The new Commodore from London is wasting no time in ridding the Caribbean of the pirate scourge, they say. In the last fortnight they managed to capture three of the Brethren ships. Captains Jennings, Teach, and Hornigold are all awaiting the gallows.”
“Damned the Royal Navy! Do they dare to think they rule the wild seas?”
“I know of a certain Captain that would like to think she could. I seems that she entertained each of the recently captured Captains for an intimate dinner aboard the Ocean’s Whore not long before their fates were sealed.”
“Entertained, you say? I just wager she did,” Liam seethed, an unexpected rage boiling just below the surface.
“I have it on good authority that she intends to put in at New Providence soon.” She intended to continue, but Liam’s man returned with a skinny scrap of a boy in tow.
“You can’t be serious, O’Shea,” she hissed. “You propose to put this waif aboard with Captain Cutlass Lizzie? She’d cut him to ribbons and eat the pieces for dinner.”
The poor lad winced and looked up at the escort to see if what she said could possibly be true. The burly sailor just shoved him onto the seat next to Captain O’Shea. Liam dismissed the man and waited until he was gone before he continued.
“Not all is as it appears, Grace,” he said softly. He turned to the youth seated next to him and said, “Go ahead, show her. You’re safe here.”
The lad cleaned the grime from his face that had been obscuring the softness of facial features. Then the cap was removed, allowing soft brown curls to tumble free. With a few slight adjustments made under the loose fitting linen shirt, soft young breasts were unbound. Grace sat in stunned amazement as she realized it was a lithe young lass that was staring back at her.
“I had no idea until after the Black Dragon had been attacked,” Liam admitted. “She had been serving aboard for months with no hint that she was anything other than the lad she represented herself as.” He turned again to the girl. “Why don’t you tell your story to Captain O’Malley, Pip. Sorry, lass, I can’t seem to break myself of the habit.”
“No worries at all, sir. I rather like being Pip,” she addressed Captain O’Shea in a thick London accent. Turning to Grace, she continued, “The name me mum gave me is Constance. But I haven’t ever been able to live up to it, or any of my mother’s expectations. You see, me mum died when I was very young. And with no da about, I’ve had to fend for me self. There aren’t many choices for a young girl to care for herself on her own. It always seemed to me that the boys had a much easier time of it. So, one day I decided to see if I could convince folks that I was a boy instead. It worked out so well that, eventually, I decided to put to sea and see how that worked out. I had the captain and crew convinced that I was Pip and no other, sure enough. But the captain was a very cruel man, and I quickly discovered that there are very few places to escape your shipmates while at sea. As soon as we made port, I jumped ship and determined never to leave dry land again. I did alright for a time, but these little Caribbean ports are much smaller than London, and it was hard to find honest work. Me luck changed one day when I met the cook of the Black Dragon. He was in the market gathering provisions for his galley. He offered me three shiny new shillings if I would help him get his supplies back aboard. I didn’t much like the idea of going aboard another ship again, but three shillings would go a long way to keeping me belly full. So I agreed to help him tote his goods. Once aboard, the cook offered me another shilling, if I’d stick around and help him get everything stowed away. I figured I’d be a fool indeed not to stay a little longer for four shillings. While I was in the galley, I met several of the rest of the crew. These people were much different from the men of the last ship I served on. They were more like a bunch of brothers. I rather liked them. I guess the cook thought all my questions about where the ship was going and how long she’d be at sea, was a sign that I might be interested in signing aboard. He told me he could use a good helper in the galley and promised there would always be plenty of food to eat. He had been kinder to me than any man I’d ever met, so I decided to take the chance once more and agreed to join the crew.”
As she talked, she drew her hair back up in her cap and once again adjusted her clothes to hide her girlishness. She was genuinely nervous to be so exposed in a tavern full of men. But being Pip seemed to give her courage, and she continued.
“All was fine for several months. I made friends and was happy for the first time in me life. One of the other younger men, Thomas, had become a very good friend. We talked a lot about home and how we’d lost our parents early on. Anyway, I took sick, very sick, and Thomas took care of me. That’s how he found out I was a girl. But he didn’t take advantage of it at all. He kept me secret and even helped when I needed a little extra privacy. But knowing all the truth did eventually change things between us. At some point we both fell in love with each other. We were even making plans to leave the ship and try to start a life together and be a real family. But the Ocean’s Whore attacked us,” she paused, trying to control all the the violent emotions that began to well up. “I lost my Thomas, ma’am. The only man that every truly loved me. She took him from me. He died in my arms,” she said haltingly, unable to stem the tide of tears. “I vowed over his lifeless body to have my revenge upon the person responsible. And I’m willing do to whatever it may take to keep that vow.”
Grace looked up from the girl to Liam, not sure at all what to say.
“She’s been dead set for weeks to do something. I couldn’t stop her if I wanted to, Grace. We might as well use it to our advantage and help her be successful,” Liam shrugged.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this, lass? It could mean your own death,” Grace warned the girl.
“I’ve been half dead since Thomas died. At least if I die taking me revenge, I will have finished the job well,” Constance responded with steel in her eyes.
“Will you agree to following orders and doing exactly what we need you to do?”
“If it means that the Captain of that damned ship never attacks anyone again, aye, I’ll do just as ye say.”
“This will not be a quick end to things, Constance. You may have to bear some more pain before it’s over.”
“For my Thomas, I’d bear anything for however long it may take.”
“Then I believe we have chosen well. Congratulations, Constance, you have become a spy.”
The girl beamed impishly.
“I think I know just the way to get her aboard the Ocean’s Whore without raising suspicions. Do you mind if I take her aboard the Siren Song with me and prepare her for her duties?”
“Not at all, Captain. I assumed you would.”
“Liam O’Shea, you are a man of great wisdom,” Grace smiled and led the girl out of the Corazon de la Mar. Constance was about to begin an adventure of a lifetime.
