Taming of the Crew

[Safefunguy]

Come along with CrimsonKitten and Safefunguy on a briny adventure taking place in a colonial Carribean environment. Merchants and buccaneers of every salt.

Hope you enjoy the read. Comments via PM are always welcome.

 

[Safefunguy]

Captain Enoch Magriff - Proprietor of Magriff and Culverson Trading House

He swaggered into the Whale's Tale, his weathered face cracking a grin ear to ear. "Ahoy there barkeep" he shouted as he crossed the floor to the table unofficially reserved for the merchant sea captains, "set up a round of yer best ale for me mates!"

The barkeep dropped the tankard he had been wiping; all sound instantly ceased as the few men in the tavern all turned to face the newcomer.

Enoch Magriff never bought a round for anyone!

"What're ye lookin at?" he said to the men seated at the table. "Yer mean ter tell me yer day ain't as great as mine?" Enoch laughed heartily, if a touch evilly. "Boys, I've finally managed to rid me self of that barnacle of a wench what's been poachin me trade. Tis a day for celebratin'!"

"Oh now what are ye on about now Enoch?" asked Darrin Stewart one of the current occupants of the table.

"Why that britches wearin sea-lass has bit off a bit more than she can chew this time she has!" Enoch exclaimed. "Seems a special order for tobacco has become her custom, a most urgent order at that. We've wagered our flag ships on whether she can bring it to port."

Darrin turned his puzzled expression toward Enoch and asked: "What's so bloody special about tobacco?"

"Tis not the tobacco what's special, tis the terms of the thing you see. Yon wench must sail clear to Belize as to pick up the cargo before returning here to Barbados with the goods. Oh, and she only has three weeks to finish the task." Enoch threw a leg over the back of a chair, seated himself at the head of the table and took a tankard from the tray brought by the serving girl.

"That's not much of a task if ye ask me." Darrin interjected, "I've made it in two."

Enoch took a long pull from his ale, scratched his beard and smiled before quietly replying: "Aye you have, me friend, but was ye fully laden and running from Simon LaRoche at the time?" He sat smugly as his table mates took in this tidbit.

"Yer a sneaky one Magriff you are!" Darrin nodded appreciative of the latest example of his friend's ruthlessness. "Even though it must have cost ye a pretty penny to arrange, it is another reason I am glad to call me self your friend and not yer enemy!"

"Aye tis a steep commission I must pay to the brigand should he prevents Ms Sybille De Lorme from delivering the goods. I figure to recover my investment soon enough. I'll enjoy payment in the form of the look on the Mad Maid's face as she stands on the dock watching her ship leave port, my hand on the tiller!"

"Ye sound mighty confident Enoch," uttered Darrin obviously carefully considering his next remark: "That Sybille's one crafty wench she is. I wouldn't be so certain she won't be expectin trouble."

"Bah, all the expectin in the world won't make that fresh cut tobacco any lighter in her holds" Enoch spat. "My biggest fear is that LaRoche won't leave her ship seaworthy enough to keep. Seems I'll get my business she has cut back or I add another great ship to my fleet AND get my business that she has cut back! I will be pleased with either result."

Magriff downed the last of his ale and yelled for another round. He reminded his table mates: "It worked fer me with Culverson... but I don't think I will be addin DeLorme to the company name like I did with Culverson, God rest his poor soul."

"Let me tell you mates," Enoch continued, "I'm riding high with a good tail wind bringing me home to a friendly port! Would be that all of ye could be fortunate as I am this day!"

"At least a hell of a lot more fortunate than my rival will be shortly" he chuckled to himself, before downing his ale, rising from the table and starting an impromptu celebratory dance with one of the serving wenches.

It was fair skies and clear sailing for as far as Enoch Magriff could see into the future.

 

[CrimsonKitten]

Crystal blue waters of her eyes flashed with anger as she watched the man's expression fall through his flintlock's puff of smoke. Her lips formed a wicked snarl as she ripped her medallion back from his cooling grasp. Always make certain your pistol's facing the enemy.

She heard the cries of men dying, fighting men screaming and cowards falling away from the battle to the grip of the sea. Better Neptune's arms than mine, they would find me an ill-bedfellow tonight.

Her 'Malestrom' had been boarded in the midst of their evening meal. A stiff wind away from The Hard Man's port in Barbados, she had given her loyal leave to feast in celebration. There was little that could have dampened their spirits, but an ambush this close to destination was balls of solid iron. She could feel the spirits of her men failing as she followed the foreign mast up into the sky, dagger clenched between her teeth. They would NOT die. Not here, not tonight. Not this close to their goal.

Slicing away the 'Roach's' flag, she slid down the rigging. Cutting and slashing her way through the attackers she found the man she had been searching for. Bonner “Beautiful Bonny” McCutty had been the first of her crew to shed blood for her and as a result, she had killed for him. His face was a mess of angry scars; his body had fared no better, but his face was the reason for his infamous title.

Beautiful Bonny had been getting the working over from a man half his height, but easily time and a half his girth. He saw his captain holding the enemy flag and suddenly his mouth twisted into a smile. Only those who knew him best could decipher pleasure from the ruinous mass of tissue that was now his face. He screamed a wordless grating of excitement as he slashed the other man’s gut like fresh bread.

“Lis’n up ye sea dogs! Our lil’ Mad Maid’s gots us a right fine trophy, ‘at she do! What says we wrap it ‘round ‘ese ‘ere blaggards froats?!” He hoisted her up on his shoulders and she unfurled the cloth with a defiant toss of her mass of black hair. She was willing her men to fight, willing them to win. Seeing their captain holding the enemy banner seemed to further steel their resolve. Her men gave rousing whoops and cries, screaming in to the dark night.

“Take no pris’ners boys. We got enough mouths to feed!” Flipping from Bonny’s shoulders she landed with a solid thud on the deck and drew her cutlass. Sybille “The Mad Maid” De Lorme was victorious.

 

[Safefunguy]

the lost wager

*THUNK* Enoch's dagger sunk a full two inches into the post next to the crewman's head.

Bellowing at the crewman in anger, Magriff crossed the room to retrieve his weapon: "What mean ye the Roach is dead?" That thieving bastard likely took my gold and headed for calmer waters be more like the truth of the tale!"

"N-n-no s-s-sir Captain," the trembling crewman who had been posted on the bluff outside of the port. "The Maelstrom is listing but she's 'bout to make port nonetheless! She's flyin both colors sir."

"Ye mean LaRoche has claimed her? I'll take care of that right soon enough." Enoch's voice was quiet, but hard. He knew it couldn't be DeLorme making it in on time that would mean... no that could never happen. He had laid his plans too carefully. Laroche was to catch Sybille right as she thought her prize within her grasp and to cruelly snatch it away from her.

"The Roach must be bringin her in to port for me. She'll make a fine addition to my fleet."

"I don't think so Captain, looked to be the Mad Maid herself at ships wheel. I think she somehow got by LaRoche, sir"

"Blast it canna be!" Enoch yanked a final time and his dagger came loose. He slipped it into the sheath at his belt and ran from the Company's offices to stand out on the dock.

Sure enough the Maelstrom limped its way into port, her hands leaping to the dock to make her fast. Enoch had to force his mouth closed, the dawning of realization that he had lost shocking him. He couldn't believe that this day could actually come. That a mere girl had made it out of the clutches of the trap laid so cleverly and cruelly designed to put her out of the business once and for all.

The clack of boots on the planking of the dock grew louder pulling Enoch out of his stunned daze. His eyes were riveted on the irate captain of the Maelstrom, Sybille DeLorme. The icy blue of her glare, the bloody clothes, the pure hatred oozing out of her telling him that she had made it through, but at a higher price than he was prepared to pay.

Sybille threw a flag to the dock at Enoch's feet, LaRoche's banner. "I believe ye were expecting to see these colors today were ye?" She spat the question at Enoch. Ye'll be delivering the prize we wagered here to me tomorrow noon. The whole port'll know I made the best of ye Magriff. Oh the joy twill be to claim the Clenched Fist from ye, in front of yer friends and enemies!"

With those words the Mad Maid stormed off the docks and into the port town. The remains of her cheering crew following, save a skeleton crew to stand watch.

Enoch was ovewhelmed by the sheer venom of the passion of the young Ms DeLorme. "Aye, she has the fire within her, I was fool enough to underestimate the lass. Tis a sad day for me self and family name to have lost the Fist to her" he thought to himself.

"Blast her to hell I will. I'll be damned if she's make one shilling from my ship!" He muttered at the back of the young woman triumphantly striding into town. Enoch decided to speak with his crew before word spread further.

As he walked back toward his company offices another plan hatched in his head. He would turn the Clenched Fist over as agreed, but he would make darn sure De Lorme would never get her out of the harbor. He began to whistle as his day brightened a little. He had his shipping company's fleet and he could replace the Fist it would be a nuisance, but it was far from the end of the world.

He gathered his officers in his private office. He told them of his plan. They were disappointed by the end of their berthing on the company's flag ship, but accepted commissions on other ships in the fleet. He promised them he would avenge the loss of this ship on the unsuspecting Mad Maid. One more night of work here in port was required though before they set off for their new berthings.

Enoch and his men took the Clenched Fist on one final run that night. At his secret cove, the loaded her with goods pinched from various military shipments over the years. Powder, rockets, and that new nitro stuff was packed into every nook and cranny of the ship. Tomorrow was going to be very memorable to the residents of the port town. Every gun and useful item they could strip they stashed away in his little unofficial port for goods the governor needed but didn't want to acknowledge.

A lesson would be taught; Sybille might have been able to win one from Enoch Magriff, She would never beat him... at least never claim the prize she thought she won.

Magriff and his two best anchored the Fist just far enough away from shore that while all could see her and mark her clearly as his flag ship, none would be likely to put forth the effort to actually get aboard.

Enoch made quite the show of things as the noon hour approached. Appearing ever to grieve at the loss of his ship, he managed to keep one eye on the docks as the crowd formed to see the event. He waited until the Mad Maid herself set foot on the docks. Her crew in tow, waiting to celebrate the occasion.

A nod to his men to begin lowering the lifeboat, and then Enoch lit the fuse that would send his beloved ship to the bottom of the harbor in a few minutes. They wasted little time getting to the dock and facing off with the Maid. Enoch figured he had only a minute or two before the whole thing went up.

There Sybille stood, hands on hips, her legs encased in tight fitting yet yielding trousers. Her icy blue eyes shone with triumph, this was to be her day. Her bodice raised and lowered as her breath was forceful due to her anticipation.

"Aye twere this any other day or any other event, I'd be first in line to dance and celebrate with this fair lass." Enoch sighed to himself, and reminded himself that she was the cause of his woes, and that he shouldn't be thinking of her quite like that, no matter how firm and rounded whatever part of her anatomy was that he was thinking of at the time.

He removed his hat and bowed to Sybille, "Thar she be, i give her to ye as agreed. Ye can have her for what good she'll be to yer" He swept his arm wide toward the ship in the harbor.

Within moments the explosion rocked the area, forcing many to lose there footing and fall to the dock. Enoch threw his head back and laughed: "I guess I should have been a bit more careful with me pipe. "

Sybille stood there in a rage. The fire that was consuming the Fist lit up her face and eyes. She knew this was trouble. The Maelstrom wasn't going to be ready for trading again for weeks after the damage taken from LaRoche's assault. She had been counting on Magriff's ship to remain in business.

"Ye Bastard!" was all she could say to the laughing Magriff. She could hear his laughter and that of all the male traders echoing in her head all the way back to town.

 

[CrimsonKitten]

Teeth and resolve clenched, Sybille struggled to remain calm, to remain herself. Her ire was up, but she didn't have to let the crowd around her know that.

"Magriff." The word was a question, but she'd formed it solid and smooth as a declaration that the sun was shining. No anger leaked from her voice, no hatred, no emotion. The Mad Maid had gone solid ice. Her eyes sparkled with something dark. Their impossible color of frosted summer sky held nothing as he turned and barely lifted a brow at her expression.

The hand flew too fast for anyone to see, much less catch or guard against. Sybille struck the meat of his solid jaw with the back of her open hand. Shock colored every expression as the sound of the slap seemed to echo over the water to cover the still prevalent explosions. She wanted it to sting, to burn at his pride as his ship burned now. The fire of cold rage burned skin deep, for any further, only hatred roiled.

By all rights, Sybille was a small woman. Some could go so far as to say 'petite' but never to her face, never within ear-shot. Her thick, blood-riddled hair fell in black velvet waves to her waist. It looked as if it might have been bound back and released by the fierce fighting. Her skin was the beautiful tan of a woman who spent at least ninety of one hundred days out on the deck of her ship. The smooth color of coffee with a hint of cream decorated with scars that only served to make her more intriguing, more dangerous. Her five foot three inch body was lean and hard with the work of a sailor, a captain who worked her own ship just as hard as its crew, yet she still managed to curve in the right places. Her top ballooned just enough to camoflage generous breasts, little more than a handful each. Hips flared out from the slender waist where her shirt was held in her pants. The leather of her boots encased her legs up to her knees, without them, her feet would probably seem a bit small for a dangerous pirate captain yet just right for a woman of her size.

"I'll be havin the payment ye promised with interest now. Ships c'n be replaced, Ol' Griffy, yer life once she's forfeit, ain't so easily rebuilt." Her voice was deceptive at best, like a lamb's wool blanket on a cold night, warming to places you didn't know were cold. Yet her words held hints of unfulfilled promises that were best kept as such. Sybille brushed defiantly by the still shocked man and his crew, her loyal following of iron-cold, hardened men silent behind their mistress of the seas. The rest of the crowd seemed to part to allow her passage unfettered, smart idea, that.

Come hell or high-water, she would have her ship, and his too. Only now? It was really personal. Now she would make it needle within his stomach that she, a woman, was better than all of his deception.


A triumvirate of power, Sybille, 'Beautiful Bonny', and Willem 'The Parrot' Cotter parted with the rest of the crew. They had leave to wench and lose themselves in their cups to their heart's content, their captain and counsel was going to see the brass. The men gladly drank and were merry but none took a woman. It was a silent promise they'd made under their captain's radar. Rumors had spread faster than tobacco trade about The Mad Maid's taking her men to her bed as an official welcome to her crew. It was said grown men wept at the thought of ever having to take another after her. Though none of the men would openly admit to it, they none of them made motion to deny and dispell the rumors either, so they stayed just that, tavern mug tales.

The walk to the govenor's manse was a long one, each step seemed to put them further away than the last. Sybille and 'Bonny' spoke quietly between them, yet Willem said not a word. He'd lost his tongue rather than loose his loyalty and give up his captain. She stole in his cell like a viper and grusomely murdered each of his captors as a result, yet she'd not been able to make her friend whole again. Her job was a nasty business, but that didn't mean she wasn't damn good at it.

They'd finally reached the sprawling plantation with it's pristine collums, large windows and frilly finery. Treading up the stairs to the front door, Sybille banged the side of her fist forcefully against the solid oak. As the houseman slowly opened the door Willem wiped an errant smudge from her cheek, she still looked a ragamuffin mess of blood and grime.

"May I help you?" The man paused and canted his head slowly. "Madame De Lorme? Oh I shall inform the Master at once, he'll be quite pleased to see you. If you and your... men would wait in the conservatory please, I should have him see you right away."

They all stepped into the reception hall, Bonner releasing a low whistle of shock and approval.

"Bettn' my left cheek 'e sits 'is arse of a frone of solid gold 'is one." Willem made a soft hollow clacking sound, Sybille jammed an elbow into his large stomach and silenced them both with a toss of her hair.

"Why Sybille. Even in blood and brigand's garb, you are by and large the most exquisite creature I have ever laid eyes on." The three turned to see the port Govenor, Glennis Vaughan in a housecoat. He was handsome for an older man, his hair already salted and peppered with grey dignity. Lines had begun to weather the strong features of his face, yet only made him more appealing. A smile spread like a rolling storm over her lips as she squared a hand on her hip, a flirting gesture if any of them had ever seen one before. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" The last word of that dripped with the promise of a man to a woman.

"Got a lil' problem on my hands, Glenn, love."

"Would the solving of your dilemma warrant a long awaited trip to my chambers?" He seemed almost hopeful at the proposition, his eyes alight with some secret fire, but it was a far and away hope at best. She shook her head slowly, eyes falling to the floor and slowly traveling up his body to meet his gaze once more. "Cannot fault a man for trying. Please, enjoy my hospitality at least and we shall talk of this. I will do all in my power to aid you."

The motley troupe followed him into the recieving room. Things were looking up.