Capture of the Pirate Queen

[BadForm]

The battle raged all morning. I had the best gunner on the Spanish Main, and my first mate had been sailing these shores for over two decades. We fought hard, but in the end, a battle between a pirate brig and two British lineships could only go one way.

We were boarded. Three score remaining crew struggled to hold back the best of the British navy. It was futile - were we not already cornered I would even say it was suicidal. And then, amidst the gunfire and smoke, the clash of steel and screams of the dying, I was taken.

...

I struggled in my bonds, desperate to escape. The captain of the Slugger knew his ropes though and there was no chance. My arms were pulled tight above me, my legs spread to a painful degree. I prayed for a swift death rather than experience what was going to happen.

"Right, you pirate scum," growled the British captain, "It's time for you to see British justice in operation."

He stepped in front of me, glaring into my face. "For one who seems so young, you have been a nuisance here too long. You are guilty of piracy in the British colonies for ten years. Black Jack France, you will be transported back to Port Royale for execution, but first you will receive fifty lashes as an example to your crew and all here present."

He turned away from me for a moment and ordered his mate to rip the shirt from my back. As the mate did so all watching gasped at the sight. Two belts wrapped around my breasts, forcing them flat to appear like a man's chest. The captain turned back at the sound and the delay in hearing the first crack of the whip.

"My name..." I hissed, dropping my fake colonial for my native french accent. "Is Jaqcueline Noire!"

 

[BadForm]

<bump>

 

[Kuldaboli]

OOC:
This is a great start!
Wonder why no one ever picked it up.
Can't let a good beginning like this die, now can we?
Hmm. Tell you what, I'll add not one but 2 characters into the mix. How's that?

Capt. Wallcot:
A highly respected officer in the Royal Navy in his early 50s, tall and muscular.
He runs a tight ship and has the crew's unwavering loyalty. His orders are allways followed to the letter, without question and have yet to be second guessed, not that anyone on board would dare. As of yet his ship is undefieted in battle.
He is viewed favorably in the eyes of the Royal Court and is of good family, 7th generation Naval officer. He is sceduled for a promotion to Comadore and rumor has it he may even recieve a knighthood before too long.

Emmet LaRougue:
Son of Marius LaRougue, a legendary French pirate, more commonly known as 'The Crimson Reaper', who went down with his ship after a fierce battle with the Brittish.
Emmet was taken by the Brittish from his father's ship, during said battle, at the tender age of 8, after being struck by a flying piece of a crosstree from the mast and rendered unconcious. An incident that left him a bit slow. He is conciddered somewhat of a simpleton.
A simple deck scraper and worker mule on Capt. Wallcot's ship, he's the guy you call if you need something done, no matter trivial, or if they just need someone to slap around. The crewmembers have a variaty of names they choose to call him, like 'boy', 'lad' or just simply 'you', but the one most commonly heard is 'Garson', just because they think it's funny, conciddering his heratage.
He's a peacefull man that frowns on violent behavior, as is evident in the fact that allthough he certainly pocesses the physical strength to send any member of the ship's crew down to the very bowls of the ship through the floor boards of the deck, the thought never crosses his mind. No matter how badly the crew treats him.
He never takes part in any battles and volentarily takes on the role of the ship's woundbinder after any skirmish.

 

[BadForm]

Good chars, welcome aboard, feel free to take control of the story (since my li'l pirate queen is a prisoner).

 

[Kuldaboli]

Capt. Wallcot

The captain's surprise never showed on his face at the revelation.
Narrowing his eyes he glared back at the pirate as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"A Frenchman." The contempt in his voice was evident. "And a female one at that."

Putting a small smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes, Capt. Wallcot glanced around and raised his voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd gathered on his deck.
"Quite the surprise we have here, don't we?"
Chuckles erupted from the crowd and the captain continued:
"Long as I have captained a vessile in the Royal Navy, not once has a lady been mishandled, rideculed or embarrassed in any way on a ship under my command. And I certainly do not intend to start now."

He walked slowly towards the bound woman, his head was slightly downcast and the small smile still adorning his face. Stepping into her personal space he raised his cold eyes to hers, his smile gone and his voice overflowing with contempt.

"But then again, miss Noire," He got right in her face. "You - are no lady!"
One hand reached up from around his back and unclasped one of the belts with a firm jerk that shook her body slightly, the belt falling to the deck.
"You - are a pirate!"
The same hand made just as swift a work of the other belt, her ample bossom flowing free of it's restraints as the second belt fell to the deck.

He glared into her eyes a moment longer in silence before speaking again in a comanding tone, his pearcing eyes never leaving her's.
"Mr. Mason! You have your orders! 50 lashes! Mr. Cabbot!"
To which a rough looking deckmaster replied with a sharp "Aye sir!"
"Make sure to keep tally for us!" the captain concluded.
"Aye sir!" came the sharp reply.

Stepping away, he turned his back on her and clasped his hands bedind his back as he walked towards the railing slowly. He stood there for a moment looking out to sea.
"Mr. Mason!" He turned his head slightly and addressed the whip carrier. "Whenever you're ready."

At the sound of the whip whirling through the air to build up speed before the blow was struck, he turned back to watch.

Then the first blow cracked against her skin and the count was sounded.

As the number of lasches against her skin increased, Captain Wallcot, with a grin of satisfaction, let his eyes wander over the form of the beautiful female pirate. And as her her body shook with the pain from the whip, his eyes hungrily took in every curve of her valoptious body in explicid detail.

 

[BadForm]

He acted the shocked English gentleman as he strode around me, but I was not fooled. There was no such thing. "Gentlemen" never were gentle and I could think of precious few I considered men, at least, not in a way that reflected anything other than a few inches of worthless flesh between their thighs. I barely listened as he continued his speech about not shaming a lady. Then he was in front of me.

"But then again, miss Noire," His true anger and hatred showed through then, stealing through the mask of civility that his kind hid behind. "You - are no lady!"

It was all I could do not to spit in his face.

His hands grasped the belt and pulled them from my body as quickly as possible, doing his best to leave at least a minor burn from each in preparation for the whipping he had prescribed. There was no salvation in this man's face. That, if there was to be any, lay in his shipmates. If they were pagan folk of the sea, their Christianity mixed with the folklore of long voyages, then there was a chance they would despise the commanded abuse of a woman. If, on the other hand, they were what was known on the mainland and in Europe as "good Christian men" they would see my living outside their constricted rules and roles as Satanic, as evil - as potentially even damning their own ship. What remained of my own crew had fallen silent. Only Big Jim, the first mate, spoke up in my defence and his words were soon cut down by a sword raised to his neck. I waited for my fate.

As the first lash fell, I swallowed hard. The man holding the whip had no mercy. It was every bit the lash that would fall on a man. I had long since promised myself that I would never again let a man see me weak though and I forced myself to stare forward. Another, another, the lashes fell in slow ferocity. Off to port, the Captain had turned to watch me and I refused to give him the pleasure of seeing me respond to the pain. I fixed my eyes on the mast ahead and tried to will myself into the grain as white lines of fire scored through my flesh to my spine.

The man with the whip reached 15 and stopped for a moment, adjusting his grip and taking a breath. Behind the pulsing of the blood in my ears I could hear him breathing harder with the force he was using. I took the chance to try to ease my position at least, but that only made it worse as the lash fell again.

I cried out. It was on the 22nd lash, but I cried out. Angry at myself I shook my head, feeling the hair I had kept hid beneath my cap before capture flying free. I bit into my cheek, accepting the new pain as a diversion from the continued whipping. He stopped again at 30. With eyes full of pained tears I turned to look toward where the blurred outline of the captain stood.

"30..." I rasped, repeating the count of the deckmaster. "30... you bastard... is... is... is that... all you have?"

Speaking was a mistake. I'd taken away the bit of my cheek that I was focussing on to numb out and as the lash fell again I screamed. My voice rose the air in a long, high cry as another three lashes fell. Only on the 35th was I able to still myself again and by then it was because the pain was too great to take.

36.

The roar of the see quietened in my ears.

37.

The sun set in my vision.

38.

Strength left dead for the albatross's eyes.

39.

I no longer knew anything. When I later awoke, I realized I had blacked out.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Emmet LaRougue

I had been in the crews cabins tending to the men's wounds. I only appeared on deck after the tally of blows was up to 19. The thought of what they were doing to the man disgusted me and I had no intention of even glancing in the direction of the torture. Mr. Mason was undoubtedly delivering the blows with more fervor then ever. He probably thought the pirate captain deserved what he was getting, seeing as how Mr. Mason's cousin had been severely injured in the battle with said pirates.

As the next two blows were delivered I went about refreshing my rags, water bowl and get some more alcohol. I was sure my job as wound binder wasn't done. Seeing as how the pirate still had yet to receive over half of his punishment. 50 lashes were a common form of 'British Justice' in the eyes of Captain Wallcot.

A cry of pain sounded at the 22nd blow. I was sure my heart stopped in my chest and my water bowl went clanging to the deck. That cry didn't sound right! I whirled around to face the torture session and froze. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing.

There, strung up in the common fashion of a captured pirate captain, naked from the waist up, was a woman!! They were whipping a woman!!!

I tried to cry out in protest but my voice had left me. This was madness! It had to be stopped! As the beating continued, I pushed my way through the crowd, only to be stopped by a firm hand on my chest. Looking down, I saw Mr. Nole, our head gunner, standing in my way.

"What the devil do you think you're doing, boy?!" His voice was rough, his no nonsense tone ever present.

I wanted to get to her. Make them stop. This wasn't right! "I... They c... " My words failed me. I tried again. "They're beating a woman!"

Mr. Nole's eyes hardened as he glared up at me. "Listen boy!" He growled and I took a step back. That man scared me sometimes. "Make no mistake! That there be no woman! That - be Black Jack France! That - be the thing that has been plaguing these waters for a decade! That - be a pirate! And they gave up their rights to be called human beings when they took to plundering ships, murdering innocent people and robbing young lasses of their honor!"

His reasoning sounded true enough, but I doubted that the woman being beaten before my eyes had ever robbed any lasses of their honor. “But...” I tried only to be cut off by a snarling Mr. Nole again.

“The Cap’n has issued his orders! An’ they will be followed! The Cap’n knows how best to handle these rats! No one - undermines the Cap’n or questions his orders! Ever! Do you want to be the first to try and do so?! Boy?!”

I shook my head glumly. “No sir, Mr. Nole.” I knew that going up against the captain was futile. You might just as well take a dagger to your own body and then volunteer to walk the plank while in shark infested waters.

At that time the count reached 30 and Mr. Mason paused to flex his shoulder. The number called out by Mr. Cabbot was echoed by a raspy voice and my head snapped back to the scene before me. The woman raised her head and glared menacingly at the captain, her beautiful eyes, so full of fury, brimming with tears. “30... you bastard... is... is... is that... all you have?" her voice rasped.

She was defying the Captain! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The woman was strung up, half naked, like a lamb before the slaughter and being whipped with in an inch of her life. And I had only heard her cry out once. Once! Through the entire ordeal! And now! Now she blatantly defied the man who held her torturers reigns. I found something mounting with in my chest. Respect! Respect for this beautiful renegade who, through her command over a band of cut-throats, defied an empire, and while under torture, verbally spat in the face of its emissary. Beside me I heard Mr. Nole’s growling whisper, “Bloody heathen wench!”

Mr. Mason had obviously taken offence to her words. His face transformed into a mask of snarling fury as he put even more force into his next swing. And as the whip lashed against her skin her scream of agony tore through my soul like a jagged knife. “No!” I whimpered and made a move to intervene. Only to be blocked by Mr. Nole. “Don’t do it, boy.” He warned me.

Her long high pitched scream as the next 3 blows fell tore at my heart and pierced my very being. I could feel my eyes brimming with tears. What they were putting her through could only be described as inhuman! As the 35th blow fell, her head snapped back and her face contorted in pain, as her jaw dropped in a silent scream. I was unaware of the number of blows after that, as all sense of sound left me. All I could hear was the beating of my own heart and the rushing of blood in my ears. I saw the jerks her body made as the blows hit, but my eyes were focused on her face. I saw a single tear role from her eye and I felt my own tears join her single one, as they spilled over and rolled down my cheeks. Then the tension in her face seemed to slowly drain away as the light in her eyes seemed to dwindle, before, ever so slowly, dieing out completely. Her mouth slowly closed and her eyes slowly followed suit. Her body slumped like a half-filled sack of potatoes and her head lolled forward.

I could see she was still breathing and I silently thanked which ever god, Christian or Pagan, for blessedly rendering her unconscious. But Mr. Mason wasn’t finished. 50 lashes was what the captain had ordered, and conscious or not, 50 lashes was what she would receive. As Mr. Mason kept lashing the unconscious woman, my eyes turned to Captain Wallcot. The smug, self satisfactory grin on his face as he watched the woman being brutally beaten made me want to throw up.

I never knew there was so much barbarism on this ship. And they dare call the pirates heathens!

 

[Kuldaboli]

Capt. Wallcot

“Excellent work, Mr. Mason!” I commended my first mate after the full tally of 50 lashes had been reached.
“Thank you, Captain!” came the sharp, heavy breathing reply. He’d obviously gone all out on the pirate scum.
I walked around the prisoner, examining his work. Her back was a mess of criss-crossing angry lines of red. Most of them bleeding. Some of them gaping wounds and others shallow yet so close together, they had simply flayed the skin off. Smiling satisfactorily I turned to Mr. Mason. “Excellent work indeed!”

Looking back at the remainder of the pirate crew I couldn’t help but sneer at them.
“Put them in the brig! Lock them in the cage where these animals belong!”
“And their captain?” Mr. Cabbot asked indicating the hanging limp form.
I walked back in front of her. Putting my gloved index finger under her chin I lifted her head. She really was quite beautiful. And her voluptuous body was just ripe for the taking. I remembered her words at the 30 count. The bastard wench had dared defy me! No-one defies me!

“String her up from the mid beam in the brig!” My order was firm.
“Aye sir!” Mr. Cabbot replied before he and three other crewmen set off to complete the task.

My eyes fell on the last person I had expected to find here. I knew he detested these events and stayed clear of them.
“Garson!” My voice made him jump and he turned to face me, his eyes downcast.
“Y- Yes captain.” He was afraid of me. Good!
“What are you doing here? I know you don’t like these proceedings.”
He looked nervous. “W- Wh- Why… Why did- ” He didn’t look up at me, but I could tell that what had transpired here disturbed him.
“Why did we do that?” I finished for him. To which he only nodded.
I chuckled, my voice like that of an educative parent. “That was a pirate. A pirate captain. We had to do it. To set an example.”
“But- “ He was wringing the rag he held in his hands nervously, eyes still downcast. “But… That- That- was a woman.”
My temper flared and I took a step closer to him. “That – was no woman!” He cowered away from me and I followed, pressing him into a corner with my presence. “Ms. Emily, in Port Royal, my betrothed! That - That! Is a woman! Never - NEVER! - make that mistake again!”
“I’m sorry captain.” he whimpered. “I didn’t mean to offend- I’m sorry.”
My anger subsided. He was a simpleton. Being mad at him for not understanding was like being mad at the sun for not rising fast enough for your liking. I sighed. “You know Ms. Emily. She’s kind, generous and loving.” He nodded so I continued. “She’s always treated you nicely and spoken to you kindly.”
He nodded again. “She’s a nice person.” His voice was weak. He was probably still afraid.
I smiled at him. “Yes she is.” My smile disappeared. “But that pirate,” I said, indicating the way down to the brig. “That pirate has sunk more ships, stolen more of people’s valuables, murdered more innocent people then any other pirate in the last 10 years. Now, could you ever imagine Ms. Emily doing something like that.”
The question seemed to upset him and he shook his head vehemently as he spoke. “NoNoNoNoNo. Ms. Emily would never do that. Never. She’s a good person.”
I smiled at him again. “Yes she is. Now, do you understand why I say that that pirate, despite being female, isn’t a woman?”
He seemed to ponder that for a moment before nodding his head. “Because- Because - she’s not a good person.”
Nodding at him once, I straightened up and set my jaw. “Exactly!”

He looked away from me again and wrung the rag in his hands again. “Uhm, Her- Her w- Her wounds… Captain. Sh- Should I… ”
“No!” I interrupted him crisply. My answer seemed to upset him, but I cut down his protests. “Not yet. She has information we need. And she won’t tell us if she’s comfortable, now will she?” It was a lie. I had plans for that little tramp and I couldn’t let his mother hen attitude get in the way of them.
“But-“ He tried.
“That is an order, Garson!” He flinched at my words. “You are not to go near the prisoner, or the brig, for that matter, under any circumstances, until I specifically tell you to do so! Is that clear, Garson!”
He nodded his head vehemently. “Yes sir. I won’t go near the brig, sir. I promise.”
I nodded once. “Good man!”

----------------------------------------------------------

After explaining my plan to my first mate, I made my way to the brig Dismissing the guards, after they brought me a chair and a small table, I found myself alone in the large section of ship, save for the growling band of pirates in one of the cages. And the voluptuous woman captain. Hanging there by her wrists from the mid beam, her bare feet touched the floor boards. Were she conscious, she could stand just an inch or two short of having her heals touch the floor. Taking off my jacket and cap I placed them on the table. I pulled out the dagger that had been confiscated off of the captain herself and placed it on the table as well. Walking around her as she hung there I let my eyes ravish her body. Her skin had the bronze tone of someone who’d spent most of their life in the sun. Her finely toned legs and her shapely behind were hidden under her leather trousers, as well as the delicate curve of her hips. Her back, though a bloody mess of wounds, was toned and her arms showed the result of an apparent hard life, working manual labor. Her firm stomach showed the hard muscles resting under the skin. Then my eyes fell on her ample bosom. Beautiful full breasts that heaved as her chest rose and fell with her breathing. I reached out my hand to touch her breast.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” The growled threat caught my attention and my hand froze just inches from her breast. I turned my head to face the direction if the sound. One of the pirates, a big sturdy fellow, stood at he bars of the cage, glaring at me. I remembered him from before. He’d been the one to speak up for her up on the deck. Big… Jack? No, Big… Jake. It hardly mattered. I was out here and he was locked in there. What could he possibly do to me?

Looking at the man, I grinned an evil grin and placed my hand on her breast. The man’s visage hardened and he took a slow, deliberate step forward grasping the bars tightly. I felt a slight shifting under my hand. And looked at her breast again. Her nipple had hardened under my touch. “Interesting.” I thought as I removed my hand from her breast.

Stepping away from her, I turned to the table and chair placed a few feet from where she hung and in her direct line of sight. I took a seat in the chair and looked at her. Shifting my eyes slightly I saw the man behind the bars still glaring at me.

“Very interesting.” I thought as my eyes returned to the bound beauty before me. I got comfortable in the chair and waited for her to return to consciousness.

 

[TheScarletBlade]

OOC

Looks intresting,I was wondering if I might be able to jump in.Also I was wondering what time era this was in,so I could better base my character off the era.

 

[BadForm]

OOC: I don't mind if you join in, Scarlet, on 2 conditions. Firstly, that Kuldaboli also accepts you - for the foreseable future at least he has control of the thread after all... and secondly that you carry on the roleplay style we're building up. That means no 3-line posts as so many here seem fond of, but rather each post being a relatively indepth narrative of your character's interactions. With that in mind, PM Kul and check with him. As to the time period - I see this towards the pirate sunset in the mid-late 1600s.

IC:

My mind took me away. I saw images of beauty and love, of the few who still knew I was a woman. The mingled pleasures of the flesh and the heart swayed in the swirling ocean of my subconscious. Most had been women. Tavern wenches who knew the value of a coin was greater than that of a moral. One was a man, Big Jake. He'd barged into my tavern room one night, when we were in the port of Tortuga, crying that an English captain had come looking for me and that we had to leave. When he'd seen me and... what was her name? Ysabelle? I forget... wrapped around each other and savoring each other's femininity he'd quite lost his train of thought. We'd almost been caught that night.

My mind took me to my cabin on ship, and the drunken debauchery with Big Jake after he had found out. I knew it was strange, that a man should so readily accept the rule of a woman, especially at sea where only the ocean could be the mistress. Yet he had never betrayed me; only teased me to learn more of myself and more of the pleasures of me.

But the dreams were not to last. Soon the gentle bite of a lover's teeth transformed. It was still a bite, but this time more savage. This was the bite of the salt air against open wounds. It shattered the soft warmth of my unconscious like a ceramic jug cast into a coal fire. I breathed in a stuttering breath and jerked awake.

It was dark here, darker at least than on the deck. For a moment I let my eyes adjust to the lamplight and let my hearing and touch tell me about the world. I was hanging by my wrists, the pain intense against hands turned cold with bloodloss. Beneath me, the planks of the floor touched only the pads of me feet. I tried briefly to take the weight more fully on my soles but I'd been tied too high. This was another torture of the English Captain's and I had to admire his thoroughness. I would have done the same had I caught him...at least until I grew bored.

I could hear breathing, a massed sound of resignation and objection that told me my crew were imprisoned close by. As I listened further, I heard another breath and realized I was being watched. I opened my eyes and turned to see who it was.

"You're still here," I groaned in a voice of sea-salt and gravel. "Are you enjoying the show?"

 

[Kuldaboli]

Emmet LaRougue

I was cleaning a nasty burn wound that the young Mr. Addams had received when he'd been pinned to a freshly fired cannon by one of the pirates. At the tender age of 17, he was strong and fast, but a little stubborn and rash on occasion. It had cost him dearly today.

The echo of the captain's statements were still ringing in my ears. His reasoning for what kind of woman had the right to be called such was sound, but there was a flaw in his argument. If only a female who was good person could be called a woman, Ms. Emily really didn't qualify. I would never breath a word of what I knew about her to the captain. He would never believe me anyway.

Ms. Emily had always spoken to me kindly and treated me respectfully. At least, when Captain Wallcot was around. When he wasn't, I might as well have been a bug under her shoe. She would treat me like her personal servant, her tool or something to vent her frustrations on.

I once caught her having her way with one of the stable boys in the captain's stables, while the captain was away to recruit new men for the crew. Embarrassed, I'd left again to wait outside. When she was finished with the boy and had made herself decent, she came out. Without a word slapped me across the face and told me that if I told anyone, she would make damn sure that I'd be locked away in the deepest, darkest dungeon the Royal Navy could find for, insulting a lady's honor.

After I'd sworn no one would ever find out from me, she smiled at me. Her smile wasn't a very nice one and it made me nervous. She then asked me if I'd liked what I'd seen. I couldn't reply out of embarrassment, which caused her to move closer to me. She then asked me if I found her beautiful, before touching me! I beat a hasty retreat and her laughter echoed in my ears.

No. Ms. Emily was not a nice person. But the captain would never hear that from me.

I wondered about the pirate captain. She was beautiful, and strong, and had challenged Captain Wallcot. I had no other knowledge of her, other then what the crew had told me about her, and that was all bad. I found it hard to believe that anyone could be that vicious. They’d told me the stories were all true. But from what I’d witnessed on the deck, I found myself wanting to know for myself. I’d found I respected her for what she could do, and would do in order to protect her crew.

The captain had strictly forbidden me to go near the brig, until he said so. I’d have to wait to see her. She still had wounds that needed to be cleaned. The thought of what her back must look like, let alone feel like, after the beating she’d taken made me cringe. The captain would never release a prisoner into the hands of the fort guards in the condition she was in. It was considered bad form and frowned upon. I had to wait to see her.

With a sigh I turned my attention back to the young Mr. Addams and the ugly burn. I could tell it would leave scar, an ugly scar. The best I could do was try and ease his pain a little.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Capt. Wallcot

Finally, she awoke with a start. I could see her trying to get her bearings and trying to stand. I found it incredible how someone so graceful and obviously feminine could be as sluggish as her movements indicated at this time. Slowly she turned to face me. "You're still here. Are you enjoying the show?" Her voice sounded like she’d dragged a wad of sandpaper through her throat.

Dismissing her question, I gave a small smile. “Ah! Ms. Noire! Good of you to join us. We were beginning to worry about you.” I rose from my seat and clasped my hands behind my back. I walked up to her and stopped in front of her. I let my eyes wander over her face. I then reached out a hand and gently brushed a lock of her hair from her eyes, before once again clasping my hands behind my back. I looked her in the eye, my smile widening. “Comfortable, I hope.” I could see the fury in her eyes. She was a firecracker, that one.

I turned and began walking ever so slowly around her. “Your little revelation caused quite a stir up on deck. People were not sure what to make of you or whether or not you should be whipped. Even Mr. Mason had his doubts. But the wounds his cousin received in the little skirmish you called a battle, wounds inflicted by one of your - crewmembers, spurred him on.” I stopped behind her and marveled at the bloody mess her that was her back. “Ah yes. Mr. Mason.” My voice held a note of pride. “What - excellent work he does.” Moving slowly, I then placed my bare hand against her back. I could imagine the touch of a single finger must have hurt, but the touch of an entire hand against her severely wounded back must have been pure agony. Her reaction made me smile. Maybe I was just imagining it, but I could have sworn I’d seen the big pirate in the cage wince.

Retracting my hand from her wounded back, I produced a handkerchief from my vest pocket and proceeded to wipe my hand clean as I continued my ever so slow walk around her, my eyes hungrily taking in her body. I finally came to a stop in front of her and looked her dead in the eyes again. “The sea - is a demanding mistress, isn’t she?” Time to play with the pitiful little tramp.

My hand, now clean, reached out and touched her jaw, stroking it gently, before slowly tracing the line of her neck, down to her collarbone and to her chest. I stepped closer to her and ever so slowly my fingers traced a line down the valley between her full breasts and came to rest on her abdomen, where my hand flattened out. All this time, my eyes never left hers. Stroking her firm stomach with my thumb gently, I stepped even closer to her. We were so close I could occasionally feel her hot breath as she exhaled. “Tell me – Captain,” I said, still lookingin her eyes, as my hand left her abdomen and touched her breast gently, my thumb ever so lightly brushing against her nipple, making it hard under my touch. “When was the last time a decent man made you feel like a true woman?”

 

[TheScarletBlade]

Telos

Two soldiers,dressed in a black and yellow uniform of the Spanish army stood on the front sections of the slender scout ship.The darkness had been cast over the world by the darkness,the sun having left this side of the world to awaken others.The two soldiers remained silent and passive,vigilently watching the horizon for the British or the French who at the time they were not on the best of terms,expecially against France becuase Anne of Austria Queen of France and Princess of Spain and Austria was being constantly ill treated from the king and Cardinal de Richaleu.

The soldiers were wishing something would happen,4 weeks out at sea and not a single battle.They were ready to test the fighting capabilities of their newest ship:The sojourn.Yet other parties decided that the Sojourn would be better in the hands of other,more discreet purposes.The soldiers just happened to earn their wish becuase only twenty feet from the rear of the ship,a small dark black painted row boat,filled with only 10 people stealthfully moved across the deep dark blue ocean to the rear of the ship.

Throwing lines up to latch up against the rail of the ship,hooking into place silently as it could.The soldiers looked back as they heard a slight thunk that seemed out of place.Looking back and seeing nothing,they looked back to the front of the ship and figured it was nothing.Finally hearing a sort of constant patter patter of almost footsteps on the deck,they looked back but only to find two swords pointed at their throats,the cutting edge pressed against the juggler vain on their necks.Looking in wide eyed horror at the figure they saw before them,the man walked into the light.

Wearing a dark black doublet with matching dark black pants that were tight but not constricting,diamond studs used as buttons on his doublet with gold lacing on each collar flap and down the hem on his long sleeves and long legged pants.A dark black hat,tipped down with a white feather on it casting a shadow over his face,they couldn't see the man's smirk.Knocking his head back,the hat falling backwards,it revealed a handsome face,jade green eyes peircing and with a slight sparkle with the bearing of a well born man.Looking with mouth hanging open,they both answered in Spanish "It's Telos!" they cried loudly looking to rouse the ship to their aid.

Telos was known through out the seas as a raider and a pirate.Feared for his reputation becuase he is said to be 7 foot tall and able to destroy ships with fire balls that come from his eyes yet in truth Telos only stood bearly six foot tall,not tall and not with strapling muscles or broad shoulders.Sleek yet strong with a nobleman's grace and a flashy acrobatic style of battle they seems to dazzle fencing masters in all of the European countries.Leading the two men back with his blades,the swashbuckler bounced up and kicked both man full up in the chest,right over the rail and into the dark blue waters.Lifting one of the silver blades,the polished blade sparkling in the torch light with his other hand Telos formally bowed bringing his other hand down parallel with his waist and the other sword touching the deck of the ship,Telos smirked and then sheathed both swords,his left handed sword going into his right sheath and right sword going into his left sheath.

Hearing a series of splashes,Telos expected his men to have finished their duties in killing all the sleeping soldiers and to throw them all over the edge."You guys done yet?" Telos said in perfect French.His answer came in Spanish.Lifting his head to caught sight of an entire battalion of Spanish soldiers in their yellow and red uniforms with musketoons leveled towards him.Hesitating not a second,the French soldier Telos bowed formally and bounced off the rail of the ship.Flipping his legs up,he dived perfectly into the deep blue waters.Telos was a soldier or a former one.A Musketeer in Monsieur de Treville's command then finally being "expelled" he turned to a more shady profession.

As the sun rose the next day,Telos found himself still in the middle of the ocean,alone and with only the sharks to keep him company.Stuck and alone,the soldier brought himself onto a peice of drift wood and laid his head down in defeat.

OOC

Sorry its not better or longer,having an off do.So I hope that mybe your guys ship will come rescue me or something.

 

[BadForm]

OOC: Your post is a reasonable length and contains enough storyline to add to the plot. No apologies necessary at all, glad to be writing alongside you. I would warn you that there should be no "superheros" here - that is, it is fine that you are an excellent fighter, but no fighting off whole gangs of pirates single-handed etc. I don't see you doing that, which is good.


IC:

It was hatred. As he stood before me the feelings between us were almost palpable. To this English thug, this popinjay with a gun, this powdered savage, I was a base pirate. To me... he was merely one more of his kind. One who, unfortunately, held me captive. He had the power right now, and if he were wise, he would make sure he did not lose it. That would cost him his life.

I listened to his monolog of course - it is always important to listen to a prattling fool in power. On the one hand, it gives them the opportunity to keep talking rather than cutting you dead, on the other, there is always some chance they may betray some important secret that can later be used to your advantage. Just then, however, his words were only directed at a castigation and at a reminder of just how shocked everyone had been to learn I was a woman. Shocked, yes, concerned or reticent about the punishment, I think not. My back had ceased to exist. In its place a sea of fire burned with the oil of my own sweat and blood.

When he was behind me, he dropped a coal onto my back, a burning ember that seared away almost all my resolve. Almost all - I couldn't stop the wince, the shudder, the attempted withdrawal from the agony of his burning palm that served only to stretch me further and shove me forcefully back onto that tortuous agony. I would not cry out for him though, not now - not ever if I could help it. That would give him too much power.

It took me a good time to return to my senses enough to realize he was standing before me, that he was reaching out softly to touch my cheek with a hand still slightly damp from where he had scoured my back. He was muttering something inane about the sea, something I could barely make out as the flickering lines of agony tormented me.

I tried to ignore his groping hand, my hatred of him unable to grow much greater. I knew what was coming - that in time he would rape me. It was only to be expected from a man who had spent weeks, perhaps months, at sea. Yet my body responded. The lack of passion I'd shared recently, unable to find a safe time to even spend with Big Jake at sea lest we be interrupted, had left me vulnerable to his touch. When he reached to stroke my nipple I felt sick. Yes, it rose to his touch, and his kind would see that as a willing participation, as an accession to a pleasure that would be a torment.

"When was the last time a decent man made you feel like a true woman?" he asked.

I snorted. I couldn't help it. Pent up emotions and pain weakened my defences and left me open to saying what I felt.

"I don't know. Do you mean a woman who can lead a brig'sworth of solid boys to ransack the ships from your weaklings? Then I have felt like that for years. Or do you mean a woman who simpers and cowers at her man's heels? In which case, show me a 'good man' and I'll show you a corpse!"

 

[Kuldaboli]

Capt. Wallcot

At her words, her sneering voice, something in my mind teetered on the brink of snapping. No sooner had her last word left her mouth then, in a burst of burning fury, my hand left her breast to snap up and catch her jaw in a hold so tight, were she one of those fragile, over-protected, snobby little debutant prick-teasers in Port Royal, her jaw would have snapped. My eyes burning with fury, I glared in her eyes. Insolent Wench!!! How dare she talk back to an emissary of the Crown!!! It took almost all my self control to reign in my temper before I let it loose on her, but it wasn’t soon enough. I knew my little outburst, my little show of force, had cost me dearly. She now knew she could get to me. And that - was a terrible disadvantage to be faced with.

She infuriated me! But that feeling was mixed with something else. Lust. Her voluptuous body called out to me, enticed me with its very presence. The firm set of her face, the defiance in her eyes; the arrogance visibly coursing through her very being, the almost tangible hatred she felt towards me coming off of her in waves, all of it only enticed me further. I could feel my body responding drastically, like a sailor in Odysseus’ legendary tale, turning his ship into the rocks to answer the siren’s call.

Forcing a grin on my face, I regained my composure. “You have fire, little one.” Releasing her jaw with a firm push that jolted her head a little, I turned away from her, clasped my hands behind my back and walked slowly to the table. I had lost control! Only for a moment! But it was enough! I had to find a way to get it back.

My eyes found the dagger I had brought. Her own dagger! I knew my body blocked her view of the table and a fiendish plan came alive in my mind. Reaching for it, I made sure to slowly drag the flat end of the blade against the tabletop, the metal just ever so slightly touching the wood, before picking it up. The sound it made wasn’t loud, but anyone who had been around blades for any period of time would instantly recognize it. Turning back to face her I clasped my hands behind my back again, successfully keeping the blade from her view. I walked back up to her, and stopped less then a foot away from her suspended form.

Pausing for a moment, I put up an obviously fake smile. “Do you recognize this?” my voice was dark as I brought my hand up, holding her dagger at my eye level and slightly to the side. She had to dart her eyes to see it. Studying her face carefully, I could see her recognition of the object. My smile became real, just for a moment. Perfect! “Excellent quality,” I said as I looked the object over with the skilled eye of a master-class swordsman with an eye for quality. “Perfect balance,” it was really a remarkable weapon. I tested the edge, flicking my thumb gently across it, making the blade sing. “Razor sharp.”

My face and eyes took on a look of pure darkness as I locked eyes with her and placed the tip of the blade just under her left eye. I kept it there for a bit, feeling the absolute joy of her possible torment deep into the very core of my being. Ever so slowly, I began moving the tip if the blade down from her eye, slightly down her cheek, just past her nose and straight down across her lips, the edge just nearest the tip catching just a fraction on their soft fullness. Tracing the line of her jaw, I continued leading the tip of the blade on the same journey as my finger had traveled moments before. Only at the end of the journey did it divert. Rather then stopping at her abdomen, as my hand had done, it traveled lower, until it hit the waist of her leather breeches. Repositioning my grip on the dagger, I angled it, tip straight down to the floor. Slipping the blade between the garment and the string laces that did them up, I slowly brought the blade down lower, slowly slicing the laces one at a time, the sound of them snapping echoing in the vast space.

Switching the dagger into my other hand, I placed my now free hand on her hip. Slowly sliding my hand under the leather fabric that caressed her hip, I moved even closer to her and, stealthily, maneuvered my dagger wielding hand behind her back on the other side.

The tip of the blade dug into her already severely wounded back and sunk in just about equally as far as the deepest lash wounds went. Moving my hand slowly, I opened a new gash on her back. I could swear I heard the big pirate in the cage rattle the bars and spew obscenities at me. As she reacted, I moved my other hand from her hip and slid it down the front of her breeches, caressing her sex.

I remembered the kings own doctor explaining a theory he had developed. He claimed that when the body is in pain it will automatically try and find a way to ease it. Even if the conscious mind is still focused on the pain, the sub-conscious mind will feverishly respond to any pleasurable stimuli in order to relieve the physical suffering. Thus, amplifying the pleasurable stimuli several-fold. I had no idea if what the old bat had said was true or if he’d just woken up one day and spewed forth the first nonsense that came to his head. I was willing to see if there was any truth to the old coot’s ramblings

With a wicked grin on my face I set about stroking her sex. I had done this several times before. With Emily before we were engaged. And she had not been disappointed. I had also practiced, unbeknownst to Emily, on her sister, Margaret, a few serving wenches and the Commodore’s wife. Needless to say, none of them had been disappointed. Pleasuring ladies this way was something I had gotten rather good at and had taken great pride it.

After all! Fornication was always better when the object of your lust was either willing or, if she wasn’t willing, helplessly aroused would do just fine as well.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Emmet LaRougue

OOC: Good work ScarletBlade! Nice post! The 'man' in question in this post of mine, that would be you! Welcome aboard, matee!

IC:
I stood at the bow of the ship looking over the railing. The fog had set in and we weren’t moving very fast, if at all. Young Mr. Addams was resting comfortably. I’d done all I could for him. Now it was up to him. Him and whatever god he called his own.

I was thinking about the woman. Yes I called her a woman. She had done many more noble things then I could ever say about any other ‘lady’ I’d met. She had a hoard of men, pirates, the scourge of the sea, by her side, willing to follow her into certain death at her simple command. She didn’t let Captain Wallcot bully her. She defied him! The men say she took 39 lashes before slipping into unconsciousness. 39 lashes! And she only cried out as 5 of them struck her skin. We’ve had pirate captains captured and lashed on board this ship that have fallen to their knees begging for mercy after 13 lashes! Full grown men! Full grown, tough as nails, no retreat - no surrender, men! My respect for this beautiful, enchanting woman grew more and more by the moment.

My eyes caught something in the water just of the starboard bow. Something adrift. Squinting my eyes I focused on it. A large piece of drift wood. An oddly shaped piece of drift wood. Walking up to the railing I try and get a closer look. Then I saw it. A slight movement on the floating wood. Like something was hanging off of it, trying to get a better grip but not succeeding. Then the outlines registered in my head. That was a man!!! Hanging on for dear life!!!

“MAN OVERBOARD!!!!!!” My voice was filled with alarm and it roused the attention of everyone on deck. Mr. Cabbot ran up to me and demanded I explained my outburst. I pointed to the object in the water. It took him only a moment to register what was out there, his face paling in alarm. “GET A BOAT IN THE WATER!!!! NOW!!!” The deck-master’s voice held no room for debate. Immediately the men scrambled to get a boat ready for the retrieval of the man. I looked out to the man in desperation. It looked like he was struggling to get a good grip, any grip. “RIGHT FULL RUDDER!!!” I heard Mr. Mason’s voice boom, most probably at the man at the helm. Looking at the men trying to get the boat ready, I saw them working as fast as they could. I looked back out at the man in the water. He lost his grip and his head went under only to pop back up a moment later and he tried to regain his grip. Who knew how long he’d been in the water. The men were still working on the boat. It wouldn’t be fast enough. “Sweet Mary Mother of God!” I heard Mr. Cabbot whisper as he rubbed a hand over his face. He was worried. These were often traveled waters, but none the less, these were also shark infested waters. They never came to close to the surface, due to all the traffic of ships, but if a man sank below a certain depth, he’d be shark bait in half a moment. The man was not going to make it.

Without another thought I leapt the railing and dove into the water. My only thought as the water greeted me, “If the sharks wanted a meal, let them choke on a bigger bite first.” I started swimming as fast as I could before I even broke the surface. Behind me I could hear Mr. Cabbot and Mr. Mason screaming at me, cursing my stupidity and ordering me to return to the ship. I paid them no mind. The man went under again and it took him longer to surface this time. I needed to get to him. To help him. I was not about to let a man drown or be eaten by sharks if I could do anything about it. Call it redemption if you will. I couldn’t help the woman when she was being beaten on the deck, lest I go against my own crewmates in a battle I could never win. But this was a man fighting desperately against mother nature, and he was loosing. I couldn’t have been more then 5-6 yards from the man when he went under again. Terrified for his safety, I dove down after him. I could see him in front of me. He was trying to get back up but he just kept sinking.

Reaching out I just managed to grab the man’s wrist. My grip was firm as I pulled both of us to the surface. Quickly, I put my hand under the couching man’s chin and began to swim toward the boat that had finally been launched from the ship, effortlessly dragging the exhausted man with me.

As we returned to the ship the man was placed on the deck as gently as possible. Considering these were hardy sailors, it wasn’t all that gentle. His black, decorated clothes were soaked and probably weighed a ton. Mr. Cabbot slapped me upside the head and screamed at me, calling me every bad name a god fearing man could possibly think of and adding a few more not normally heard in civilized parts of the world. When he finally calmed down, he put his hand on my shoulder. “Good work, lad. Brave thing ye did. Ludicrous! But brave.” I could swear I heard a note of pride in his voice.

Someone said something about getting the captain. “No!!!” Mr. Mason’s voice silenced everyone on deck. “The captain – Is otherwise engaged! He is not to be disturbed! Clear!!!” After a moment of stunned silence, everyone agreed. What did he mean by ‘otherwise engaged’? Something didn’t sit right with me about that statement.

 

[BadForm]

Jacqueline Noire

As my blade parted my skin, I groaned. I was bleeding, not the jagged spurts of a severed limb, but the slow but constant seeping that could kill a person in hours. It was beginning to make me weak and that had a strength of its own if you knew how to use it. I was no longer on deck, facing the whole of his crew. I no longer needed to oppose him so forcefully. Now... there were other ways.

Off to my left, the bars of the cage rattled. I knew Jake was trying to scape, to get free so that he could beat this man to a bloody pulp. If I knew the construction of shipboard prisons though, I knew it wouldn't happen. I considered turning to tell him to be quiet, to reassure him, but even if I was willing to do that he would not listen. Jake was in love with me, as I was with him. Certainly, we had our share of other lovers but there was something about a person who knows your deepest secret and decides to protect it that made them as important and treasured as life itself. No, better that I do not raise the knowledge of our relationship to this brute's awareness.

His hand was at my crotch. His fingers played through my hair, trying to draw a response. He could, of course, take me whether I was dry or wet and I had little doubt that he would nor that in turn he would spare me from others in his crew. It was the surest way to strip a woman of her dignity - truth be told, it was the surest way to destroy a man too but that was something few dare even consider doing to a man. What the Captain didn't know was he was not my first.

"Do you think you will shame me when you rape me?" I asked, my voice little more than a whisper now. "Do you think I even care? I am being taken to die, to be hung by order of your court. Anything you do to me will be less than that. Besides, I can not stop you and so there is no point to my trying to do just that..."

I watched his face for a moment and forced a smile to my lips.

"I cannot stop you taking my body, you English slob, but I can certainly stop you taking my soul."

It was a trick a had learned many years before. After the first time a gentleman had taken his pleasure in me, a woman had found me and promised it would never happen again. She could not promise me the safety of my body, only my mind. It was a strange magic, an old witch's trick perhaps. I just let my eyes roll to the back of my head, let my mind touch the blackness at the back of my skull, and let my soul... go. In time, I learned to fight and could save my body too. But for those years when I was too young, and for this time when I was bound and helpless, it saved my body.

I didn't even feel the thin stream of spittle that ran from the corner of my mouth as my body shuddered.

 

[BadForm]

Sam Jebsen

I stood near the front of the cage in silent contemplation. I had never suspected. How could our captain have hidden her secret for so long? I'd been serving with her for eight years. It didn't seem possible. And yet... if anyone should have known it should have been me. After all... I'd done the same thing.

Behind me, young Robert Parish, one of our gunners, uttered an oath of condemnation and disgust. "The heathen bitch deserves what she gets if she is willing to play traitor to God's own law!"

As my own nails bit the palms of my hands in an attempt to suppress my anger, I heard his body slam against the bars of the cage. He gurgled a desperate cry for help and some of our crewmates became restless. It was understandable that he think so of our captain; he had, after all, been a preacher's son until his vessel was captured and he accepted a role aboard ours. Big Jake, however, didn't see it that way.

"Ah'm going ta rip your head off and use it to swab the cell clean of your blood you maggot ridden little slug! That's our Captain out there!"

I heard someone else get slammed against the cage bars as he tried to intercede and Big Jake responded in the way he knew best. Turning I saw Robert's face had turned purple already. Big Jake had him gripped in just one hand, Robert's five foot three frame miniscule alongside the big man's. He couldn't breath. Big Jake's grip was so tight I doubted Robert even had blood flowing into his brain box any longer. Tomas, the only Spaniard on our crew, tried to stop what was happening, but Jake brushed him off like a gnat. I didn't blame him, but I had to stop him. Right now, if we were to have any chance at all, the last thing we could do was be at each other's throats.

I lifted my hand to touch his shoulder, staring up at his wild mane of hair. He knocked my hand away. Persistently, I replaced it, again and again. Finally he turned to look at me, his dark eyes turned to coals that scorched my courage to dust.

"Let him go, Jake," I said softly.

"Samuel," he growled. "I always liked you. You always did a good job on deck. But so help me if you try to stop me killing this evil little Judas I shall flay you too!"

I swallowed hard. He had to know.

"Samantha," I whispered, hoping only he would hear.

"What? What are you saying?"

I grabbed his free hand and pulled it to my breast so he could feel the belts I had tied at my own bosom. Suddenly, he knew why I had not spoken up when the Captain was taken, and the knowledge shocked him. His grip released from Robert's throat and the man fell wheezing and gasping to the ground. Big Jake just stared at me.

"And that," I whispered as I nodded at my sister, "Is Anne, not Anthony."

The big man blinked and I realized we were being watched by the rest of the crew. Had they heard? Certainly the fact that one man was holding his hand against another man's chest would raise questions if they hadn't. But it had achieved what I needed. His rage had stopped cold.

"And now you know," I continued as softly as possible. "You know what danger we are in if we do not all work together."

 

[Kuldaboli]

Capt. Wallcot

Her words made me grin. The ignorant little tart actually thought that deputant drivle could make her seem more noble. She probably thought it would discourage me. But the way her body flaunted itself at me drove my desire for her to a whole new level.

“Honestly, Ms. Noire. It’s not your soul I want.” I let my eyes roam her body as my hand worked it’s magic on her womanhood. Nothing short of devine intervention or a manifestation of the Devil himself would discourage me from taking her. She was mine!!! “I’ll let the Devil take care of that black patch of worhless-“ I froze in pure panic as my roaming eyes found hers.

Her eyes had rolled back into her head. Her body gave a shudder, seemingly off it’s own accord, and a stream of spittle ran down from the corner of her mouth.

I launched myself away from her so fast, that in retrieving my hand from her breeches I made her body jerk forward. I found myself terrified by the vision before me.

I’d seen that look before! A woman back in England was brought before the archbishop and several of his most trusted priests. She was accused of conspiring against the Christian faith. I was but a leutenant back then. In charge of bringing her, the prisoner, to the church before the asembled men of god, under orders from my superior, who’s orders came directly from His Majesty himself. She was strapped down, put through a series of ‘tests’ and asked the most vile and degrating questions. Finally, after a long interigation and down-right torture, she slipped into a state much the same as the one I now saw before me. Her head lolled to the side and I could almost feel her white sightless eyes burning into my very soul. I knew what the woman was being accused of. I knew there was a word for what she was.

“Witch!!!” I didn’t realize I’d said that out-loud until the word echod back to me in the vast space of the brig. It was more of a hiss then an actual spoken word. Never in my life would I have imagined I’d meet another one. Let alone hold one captive on board my own ship.

Swallowing my fear, I stumbled to the table and grabbed my coat and cap. I dared a glance back at her when I got to the brig doors. She still hung there, as lifeless as a corpse. But I knew she lived.

I slamed the doors on my way out, and stopped to recuperate. That female was going to be trouble. And with at least a day or two left to Port Royal, keeping the men from panicing would be no easy task. We had a witch on board!

I sought comfort in one thought as I made my way back up to the deck. Her death would be more painful then anything she could ever possibly imagine. They didn’t hang witches. They burned them!!!

 

[Kuldaboli]

Emmet LaRougue

The unconscious man was placed in the bunk in the visitor’s cabin. I was no good at working hypothermia, that was Mr. Smythe’s specialty. An old sailor, a fisherman, who’d stood off some of the biggest storms in human memory. The result of hypothermia was something he knew all too well. He’d watched some of his crewmates, his friends, die from it and, in time, had learned to counter it. He’d enlisted many years ago, when his wife and 3 children were cut down by a band of pirates just a day south of Port Royal. Since that time, he’s had no love for the lot of them. “The Devil’s Rejects” he’d call them.

I saw Captain Wallcot come up on deck. He looked a bit shaken and it puzzled me. He led Mr. Mason down to the port bow of the ship where they conversed privately. Then, all of a sudden, Mr. Mason’s face turned a ghostly white and a look of shear terror settled on his face. Something the captain had said to him had scared him half to death. He was even pacing slightly, ringing his hands and running them over his face and through his hair. I had never seen the first mate in such a state. He truly looked terrified. Something was definitely wrong.

I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they soon broke off their conversation and the captain took up position to address the crew. “Until further notice, the brig is strictly off limits! No one goes in there without strict orders to do so! Anyone caught inside or entering the brig without orders will be put up for reprimand for disobeying a direct order, detained, and will, upon our arrival in Port Royal, be court martialed! Is that understood!”

A chorus of “Aye, Sir!” rang out from everybody around me. “Good! Cary on!” The captain dismissed the crew. I meant to ask the captain why the brig was suddenly off limits, but he and Mr. Mason and Mr. Cabbot took to the captain’s quarters and ready room to converse, giving strict orders not to be disturbed.

It took me a while of thinking and deliberating but I finally came to a conclusion. The pirate captain. Her wounds still needed tending to. If they weren’t properly cleaned and bound, the captain would be reprimanded upon arrival in Port Royal, for mishandling prisoners of the Crown. And that was a mark on his record I was sure Captain Wallcot didn’t want. So, I gathered the things I was sure I would need, clean rags, alcohol, plenty of clean water and ointment for chaffs and burns. My eyes found my sea chest. I remembered the state of the woman when she had been taken down below. She was in somewhat a state of undress. Opening my sea chest I soon found what I was looking for.

There was nobody even in the vicinity of the brig as I made my way there unseen by anyone or ignored everyone else. Pushing open one of the doors to the brig as quietly as I could, what greeted me was something I did not expect. It was all I could do not to drop everything I held in my hands. She hung there, suspended by her wrists, from the mid beam, her back to me, her body limp as the time she passed out on the deck. Her skin was pale and her coloration only amplified the look of the angry wounds on her back.

Her back! Bile rose in my throat. The wounds, the flaking skin, all of it covered in sweat and blood. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip to keep from crying out. I didn’t even realize that a tear slipped from my eye at the cruelty displayed before me. My very being cried out in protest to what I had seen. How could any man be so cruel to a woman?

After a while, I recovered slightly. Placing the items I’d collected for the cleaning process on the floor, I closed and secured the door. I didn’t want to get caught. Turning back to the suspended woman, I brought out the item I’d uncovered from my sea chest and unfolded it. It was my best shirt. It was white and soft. It was made from a finer fabric then all my other shirts. I was sure it wouldn’t chafe her wounds if it rubbed up against her back.

Walking slowly towards her I noticed she seemed unconscious. When I came around her I averted my eyes. She was a woman, and you always respected a woman. My eyes averted, I held the shirt open before me, it’s open front towards her. As gently as I could, I brought it up to her body, successfully covering the front of her body with the back of the shirt, and then worked on fastening the top button behind her neck, my massive hands surprisingly gentle. Her modesty preserved, I raised my eyes to look at her. Her beauty was unmatched by any other woman I’d seen. I found myself captivated by her.

I looked up and saw the state of her hands. Her wrists were burned from the ropes and her hands were almost purple from lack of circulation to them. She needed to get down. I followed the rope to the peg in the wall. Grabbing the rope, I released the peg from the wall and slowly worked my way back to her, to make sure to keep the same pressure on the rope the entire time.

When I got to her I paced my massive body in the best position to catch her in the most comfortable way for her. I started slowly adding more and more slack to the rope making her slowly sag towards me as I racked my brain trying find a suitable place within the brig to lay her down so she’d be comfortable and would still allow me to work on cleaning up her back.

 

[BadForm]

Anne Jebsen

OOC: Sorry it took so long, every time I got down to write this I got interrupted. Thats the one unfortunate thing about nice long-posting based threads like this one. They give you lots of room to explore, but are prone to interruptions and restarts for writing each post. Hope the below is ok with you.

IC:

"WITCH!"

The Englishman's cry rent the air, slicing through the building tension like a cutlass. As one, we turned to see him stumble and trip against the desk, then flee like he had seen an oncoming horde. The door slammed behind him, leaving the hold in silence. I was the first to turn and look at our captain, that's why I expected Big Jake's outburst when he saw her.

"Captain... WHAT? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER YOU DEMONIC BASTARD! GET BACK HERE AND I'LL STRIP THE SATANIC HIDE FROM YOUR GODFORSAKEN BONES!"

He threw himself against the bars, struggling to break free. I fancied I heard them creak, but even in his fury and terror Big Jake wasn't strong enough to rip them out. If he couldn't, none of us could. Of course, even if we were to break free it left the problem of a whole crew against barely twenty of us alive now. We had to do something though.

I pushed my way over to my sister, Anne, and spoke with her.

"I told Big Jake what we are," I said. "Did you hear?"

"No, back here you couldn't tell what was going on. It looked strange though. Most of the lads think there's something wrong with you to grab him like that."

I nodded and thought. "We have to do something to get out of here. Not just for us, but for the captain. Look at her. We've already seen what the English captain thinks of her - do you know what they do to witches? If she's accused of that she'll be tortured further before they burn her!"

Anne stared out to where the captain hung limp now. "Maybe she is a witch," she said.

"No, Anne. I've seen this before its..."

I looked at the crew. With the exception of Big Jake, they all had a look like my sister's. It was time to stop hiding. To stop hiding everything.

"Listen to me," I said. My voice wasn't loud but in the stillness of the cage, only Big Jake's roars were there to interrupt it. Even they were dying down. "The captain isn't the only woman aboard. My real name is Samantha Jebsen, not Samuel. My husband and I were making our way to the new world, when our ship was sunk by a French frigate. Almost all died but somehow I drifted ashore. When I saw how women were living in Tortuga, I realized it wasn't a life I was willing to take... that's why I pretended to be a young lad..."

They were looking at me in puzzlement. There were too many intricacies and confusions to my life story. This wasn't going to work. Not if I tried to explain everything. I changed my approach and tried again.

"Look, there are reasons a woman stows away. The Captain had hers. What you mostly need to know is what's happening to her now. My husband was a doctor, I helped him with the leeches and herbs. He had a patient once who had fits like this. And he got over them. It isn't demonic it's just... well...medical. I've never seen anyone do it deliberately, so the Captain must have had some training."

They looked skeptical, but also seemed to be considering it.

"Look, we have to escape. What the Captain has done has bought us some time. Maybe, just maybe, if we work together, we can think of something."

Before we could even begin to discuss escape plans, another man walked in. He was gentler, kinder even. He took the captain down, covered her breasts with his shirt, and began to treat her. I watched as he dressed and worked on her wounds, and wondered why. What was there to gain from dressing the wounds of someone who was going to be murdered anyway? And if he was such a good man...

"Why are you working for the English?" I asked, unable to stop the words.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Emmet LaRougue

The sound of another voice startled me. I looked up and saw the remaining members of the pirate crew staring at me from one of the cages. I hadn’t even noticed they were there. There was a big pirate who seemed to be scowling at me, he scared me a bit. There was another pirate standing at the very front of the cage. He looked young. Very young. Shorter and not as stocky as the big pirate. He was looking at me with genuine confusion on his face. I figured he was the one who’d spoken.

“What? I… what…” I started to reply when the question finally registered in my head. "Why are you working for the English?" I was struck mute. I honestly didn’t know what to say. I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out, short of the tell tail sounds of someone who didn’t have an answer ready and was strugling to find one. My racing mind took me in a direction I wasn’t prepared for.

Memories came alive before my eyes. I remembered my father. His tall statuesqe frame standing with me at the bow of his ship at night, teaching me about the constelations. Teaching me how to work a compass. Teaching me what it meant to sail the seas and to be respectful to ‘the lady’ as he’d call the ocean. He also tought me that life isn’t always easy, and there are times when a man ‘has to do what he has to do’ in order to survive.

I remembered him telling me the deffinicion of ‘a lady’. “A true lady,” he’d said, “Doesn’t judge you by what you are in life. Status and reputation mean nothing to her. You could be a baron, a soldier, a king a beggar – or a pirate. It doesn’t matter to her one way or the other. A lady will repect you, not because of ‘what’ you are – but because of ‘who’ you are. In here.” He’d concluded and placed his hand on my chest, right over my heart. “That, my son, is the true deffinition of a lady. She is kind, strong, loving, brave and fearless. A true lady will do whatever she has to do, in order to protect the ones she cares about, damn the conciquences to her own person.”

I looked down at the pirate captain, still unconcious in the same position I’d laid her in to dress her wounds. I realized why I’d been drawn to her. Everything my father had said was true. I wasn’t looking at the brutal killer everyone on board seemed to take her for. Remembering my father’s words I realised, I was looking at a lady.

But it didn’t answer the pirate’s question. Why was I working for the English? I remembered the last time I’d seen my father. There was a battle going on all around me. People were dieing left and right. I’d ventured out on deck, disobeying my father’s instructions. I saw him push off a uniformed man, father’s sword coming away bloody. He looked at me and I could see fear in his eyes. My father was never afraid of anything. He had a bleeding cut on his left cheek. The same cheek that carried the ‘mark’. A big redish purple birthmark. People called it ‘The Devil’s handprint’. It was rumored that he’d been slapped by the Devil himself for being too vicious. I knew that was a lie. I carried the same kind of mark on my own body. Only mine was psitioned on the left side of my torso, benieth my nipple. I saw his face go pale. He reached out a hand towards me and cried my name in warning. The endire ship rumbled and I felt a sharp pain in my head. Then… Nothing. I woke up in a room on an English ship. They said they’d rescued me from a sinking recage. I never saw my father again. I’d been orphaned, scarred and damaged, and the Royal Navy took care of me. I wasn’t a prisoner, but I had nowhere else to go.

My eyes watering, I locked eyes with the pirate who’d asked the question. My voice hitched slightly as I gave my reply. “Because, it’s the only life I have.”

I went back to dressing the lady's wounds.

 

[BadForm]

Sam Jebsen

"Because it's the only life I have."

I watched him as he retreated to take care of the captain. What I had asked had touched him, deeply. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, yet what I also saw was a man resigned - and so not a man. I thought about his own words and they turned in my gut. I knew about having no choice - I was a woman. Women were ruled by men - even the rich had the lord of the manor with the control and the lady with... a quilting hoop and a fireplace. That was not a life. When your sex was at the disposal of anyone, as it was for most women, then that was no life. Even if it was the only life you had.

My husband had been different. He had respected me like so few others. My sisters' had not been. He had been... well, in part, he had been our reason for fleeing to the new world. One reason among many. Now, my husband was dead. My sister and I had arrived and found how a woman in the colonies was treated if she were not even of the landed gentry. And so we had taken the life we had and traded it for one that was impossible.

There were always choices, always decisions, always penalties and benefits. But if one realized this and one was willing to do whatever was necessary, even when others told you it could not be done, then there were options. And I had one now. I was already part way through taking it, and although I would not betray my sister, I would be as bold as the Captain and do whatever it needed to rescue us. I opened the buttons of my shirt and removed the belts that held in my breasts.

"I know about choices and lives. Do not think you can tell me there is only one possible."

He didn't answer.

"LOOK AT ME!" That made him turn, to see a bare-breasted woman facing him. "Now tell me that there is only one life or only one choice. What you are doing is NOT living, not if you are betraying your self! Start living man!"

 

[Kuldaboli]

Emmet LaRougue

OOC: Sorry about the long wait. I really don’t have an excuse. I’ve just been preoccupied. I hope this post is OK. Again, sorry for the wait.

IC:
Her sharp order made me snap my head up to look at her. What I saw I could never have expected. The pirate was a woman! It took my mind a bit to register what I was seeing. A woman, dressed as a pirate. A very pretty woman. I slowly got to my feet.

Her words snapped me out of my reverie. “Now tell me that there is only one life or only one choice.” Her words rang true in my head. If a woman could join a band of pirates, even end up commanding a band of pirates, there had to be other choices in life. For the average person, yes, but for me…

She wasn’t finished speaking. “What you are doing is NOT living,” Her words moved me. And not in a way I would have liked. I felt anger coursing through me. What did she know of my life? Yes, she lived in hiding, from her shipmates, as well as the English, the French and the Spanish. Pirates weren’t tolerated in but a few social groups. But she had no idea what my life was like and had no right to judge me!

She wasn’t done yet. “not if you are betraying your self!” Betraying myself!!! My anger grew with every word from her mouth. She had no idea what it was like living under constant ridicule from your own shipmates, who don’t even bother to call you by your true name, because they think it’s funny to refer to you in a way that not only humiliates you but also your heritage. She had no idea what it was like to find yourself always, ALWAYS - 2 steps away from understanding even the simplest of things, because half of your mind had been scrambled by an impact from flying debris. She did not know my life!

My anger had turned to blind fury. I had never felt this way before. Half of me feared it, the other half reveled in it. Her last shout echoed through out the brig. “Start living man!"

Something inside me snapped. Grabbing the first thing I could get my hands on, I flung it away from me as hard as I could, with a roar of pure fury. The rickety chair shattered on impact with the other cage in the brig, thankfully it was empty. Whirling around, fires of rage burning in my eyes, I faced the female pirate. Fueled by my fury, I started speaking. I couldn’t have stopped the word’s from flowing out of my mouth, no matter how hard I’d have tried.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!!! You don’t know anything about me!!! You don’t know how I’ve felt, growing up on this ship from the age of 8!!! You don’t know what it’s like to be constantly mocked because of your heritage!!! You don’t know what it’s like to never fully understand even the simplest of things!!! And to be ridiculed because of it!!! Because of something you can’t do anything about!!! I am not a man of full mind!!! I’ve been orphaned!!! Scarred!!! And damaged!!! And the only thing that keeps me even remotely human is doing what I do best!!!”
My arm whipped around to indicate the now almost fully patched up pirate captain.
“You do not know the barbarism I’ve seen on board this ship!!! And the only thing that I can do is to relieve the pain afterwards!!! Do not stand there and judge me, mademoiselle!!! You know NOTHING of my life!!!”

I stood there panting, glaring at her, my rage subsiding. Then my mind caught up with what I’d said. My slip of the tongue. I remembered Mr. Masons words when we'd come upon a burning French galleon, the dead bodies of its crew floating in the water. “Pirates!” He'd chuckled mirthlessly. “The only thing these dogs hate more then English soldiers,” He'd inclined his head to indicate the floating bodies. “Is the French!”

 

[BadForm]

Sam Jebsen

And suddenly, it was there. It wasn't his use of the word 'madamoiselle', that just indicated he was French. Often crew members of one nation served on the ships of another - even nations at war. Out here in the Carribean, European politics were... mutable things, open to translation and retranslation. The demands of the seas generally took precedence over the demands of a Duke or Prince. No, it was the slight slur to some of his words, the overreaction in anger. It was that and his own words, that he couldn't understand the simplest of things. The man was a simpleton.

And then I stopped. No, he wasn't. Perhaps he had been somewhat impaired by the blow to the head he described. Perhaps he had lost some of his abilities. Perhaps it even took him a little longer than most to think his way through a situation, but here, in his rage, his words were eloquent. "Constantly mocked"? "Heritage"? Had he grown to believe the abuse of the English? Certainly.

I reached out towards him, but could not reach where he stood. I smiled softly and beckoned him. "Come here."

Slowly, uncertainly, he came towards me. It was his training, I was sure. He was raised to be respectful, to think well of others. Besides, I was safe behind bars. Not, however, safe behind a sealed mouth.

"You believe them don't you?" I asked, feeling a flush of tears at the corner of my eye. I blinked them away. "You believe the lies of the English. You are not stupid. You are not a simpleton. You are not less than any one of them... or any one of us. You are simply yourself."

I reached for his cheek as he leaned closer and brushed a finger delicately along it.

"Sir, you don't have to let them treat you that way. Have you considered the alternatives? A life among the brethren? Certainly there are men among us who are just as mean and nasty as the English, but there are others... Look at we who stand here. Not one of us has not fled abuse and terror. And among our kind, we are equals. Even the Captain relies on us and respects us in what she decides, how she leads us."

I cupped my palm against his face and sighed.

"There are other ways."