"The Pirate Princess" (closed)

[MarieDavisRPs]

"The Pirate Princess”

(Closed to desperado1089)

Link to the OOC Thread
(Not a chat thread; chat through PM, please)​

The Bahamas
October 1717

Elizabeth Thomas walked the deck of the carrack, Martha, listening to the sing-song cadence of the sailors happily performing their duties. They were in an extremely good mood this beautiful, sunny afternoon for two reasons: one, they'd taken a valuable prize two days earlier, a commercial schooner laden with valuable cargo that was now in the Martha's holds, a prize that would see each common sailor going ashore with a 100 pound share in their pockets; and two, they were only six hours from actually going ashore, with the island of New Providence and its pirate paradise quickly filling their view as an unusually strong wind from east-southeast filled their sails.

"Lizzie!" a male voice called angrily from the poop deck, causing her to stop short and look up with wide eyes. It was her father, Robert -- the only man aboard who could yell at her without being lashed -- and he wasn't happy. He demanded, "Go below and change! You will not go ashore looking like that!"

She dramatically rolled her eyes at him, complaining, "I dress like this all the time--"

"Aboard the ship!" he interrupted, finishing, "Not ashore. Go put on a dress. The pink one -- no, the blue one, from Paris."

Her father turned away before she could argue further. She studied him for a long moment, stepping aside when a pair of sailors needed by; they tipped their hats to her respectfully, each saying, "'Scuse me, Miss."

Lizzie smiled back to them, playfully sweeping a hand to indicate permission to continue on. She had a very good relationship with the Martha's crew of 70 combined sailors and officers, which was on the small size for a ship of her size. This was due to a combination of things, just as was their current happiness. First, any sailor or officer who didn't treat Lizzie with the utmost respect suffered 50 lashes for a first offense and keelhauling for a second; no crew member had every suffered the latter, which pleased them and Lizzie both.

The second reason Lizzie was so well respected by the crew was that she was one of them! Lizzie, who'd recently turned 19, had practically grown up on the Martha, which had been named for her long dead mother. Lizzie had come aboard 12 years ago for the transit from England to Jamaica and simply hadn't disembarked. She loved the Martha and the sailor's life. The first 6 years, the ship had acted as a commercial transport; the last six, working under a Letter of Marque from the King, she'd worked primarily as a privateer, attacking and looting the ships of England's enemies.

Lizzie had learned to perform each and every duty and task aboard the ship, from climbing the rigging to furl the sails to navigating through treacherous waters to scrubbing blood and gunk from the decks. The crew had come to respect the little sailor girl for her hard work and dedication.

By the time she began blossoming, the vast majority of the crew thought of her as a sister, which made her far safer than if she'd simply come aboard the Martha already a fully grown and well-rounded woman. In fact, Lizzie felt safer from the potential ravages of horny men while aboard the Martha than while in port, surrounded by men who didn't share the same level of respect for her.

As she was staring off toward Nassau Harbor, a lookout called with excited concern, "Sails...! Sails, three points on the starboard bow!"

The Quartermaster was passing nearby Lizzie at the moment and hollered at the man, "Of course, there's sails, you idiot! We're nearing port! There's plenty of sails--"

But the lookout interrupted, "Warship! And she's flying the Union Jack! English warship!"

Lizzie ran to get a look, her concern obvious; Nassau was currently controlled by a consortium of pirate captains, their crews, and the men and women of New Providence Island who did business with them. A British warship in these waters would undoubtedly be a pirate hunter.

The crew and officers leapt into action, turning the Martha away from Nassau and heading for the open sea. The hope was that the English warship wouldn't chase after the Martha; the English captain would peer through his spyglass and know immediately that the smaller ship was faster as well.

Unfortunately, the English had a favorable wind and position, and in less than two hours, they'd gotten close enough to fire the massive 16-pounder on her starboard bow. Lizzie heard the cannon ball strike, but the sound was ... odd. Before she could even realize that it hadn't struck hull or mast, she was sprayed by the blood and guts of a crew member working the poop deck who had literally been blown into tiny little pieces by the heavy, fast moving projectile.

Lizzie had seen men killed before and often in the most horrific of ways, but this was shocking. She wiped away the human bits from her face, hair, and clothes, then looked to the poop deck in an attempt to discover who had been to tragically killed...

...and in an instance, she realized that it had been her father.

Lizzie rushed up the ladder from the main deck, only to be intercepted at the top by the Second Mate who did his best to shield her eyes from the mess that had once been her father. She fought him, trying to get away, but then shortly collapsed into his arms, distraught and suddenly drained of energy and life.

She felt the man sweep her up into his arms but didn't truly sense or understand anything after that. He would take her down to the main deck, then aft through the doors to the Stateroom she still shared with her father. There, the Mate would help her out of her blood-soaked leather vest and boots; apparently not fearing being accused of taking liberties, he helped her out of her also-blood-soaked blouse before helping her into her bed.

Lizzie would lie there for what seemed like hours but, in the end, had only been twenty minutes before regaining her senses again. She sat up to find the Second Mate sitting in a chair in the corner, standing watch over her. She was about to ask the status of the ship and its flight to safety when a knock at the cabin door was followed by the First Mate entering.

"The English ship withdrew after just the one shot, m'lady," he told Lizzie. "We saw them turn hard to port suddenly ... possibly because of the Ripper Reef. Your father--"

He stopped suddenly, realizing how inappropriate his explanation had suddenly become. He continued, "We steered close to the reef in the hopes that the English would hit it. They didn't, but still, they broke off the fight when they realized they weren't going to catch us after that."

He touched his hat in respect, saying before departing, "I'm sorry for your loss, m'lady ... dearly."

Lizzie looked to the Second Mate for a long moment, then looked down to find herself in only her blouse and trousers. Any other woman would have been offended by this, of course. But Lizzie wasn't just any other woman. Plus, she'd swam in the ocean in her blouse and petticoat before, so it wasn't as if the men -- or this man in particular -- hadn't seen her in something a little more revealing than a blouse and leather vest.

She attempted a smile, not knowing if she'd succeeded, and said meekly, "Thank you for your kindness."

 

[desperado1089]

The West Indies Sea
October 1717

"You're most welcome, m'lady," Second Mate Thomas Witham said, tipping his hat as he did so. "One day we'll have our revenge, but that day is not today. We must choose a new Captain, and then we will see about next steps." He rose to his feet and nudged the bloodstained clothing with the toe of his boot. "Perhaps that should be done sooner rather than later. I will call for a vote. Would you like to be in the running?" He didn't say so, but she would have his vote over that randy bastard who currently called himself First Mate. When no one was looking, he'd seen him leer at Lizzie, and it didn't take much to figure out what he would do with that rope he seemed keen on hiding in his quarters.

Taking his hat off and running his fingers through his untidy blonde hair, he regarded Lizzy and said, "I'd rather you be Captain, than not," before departing the stateroom as well, likely to gather the crew to prepare to vote for a new Captain. A pair of flintlock pistols hung from his belt and a cutlass rattled in its sheath as he walked, his white shirt, black vest and brown breeches simple yet effective.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Sailing east away from Providence Island

"You're most welcome, m'lady," Second Mate Thomas Witham said when Lizzie thanked him for his help. He spoke of revenge for the horrific death of her father, then spoke of replacing the man as Captain of Martha. "Would you like to be in the running?"

Lizzie had never before considered being the Captain of a ship herself; she was only 19 and female, but the primary reason was that she knew -- believed! -- that she would always be aboard a vessel on which her father was Captain. Now, suddenly, she'd been casted into a world previously never imagined.

When she didn't answer -- her mind still overwhelmed by what had happened to her -- Thomas told her, "I'd rather you be Captain, than not."

To this, Lizzie smiled and said weakly, "Thank you, Thomas." It was unusual for her to refer to most of the crew's members by their given name as opposed to calling them Mister This or Mister That ... or in this case, Mister Witham.

After he'd left, Lizzie simply sat on her bed for a long moment, recalling the horror of what had happened to her father. She looked to the clothes lying on the floor, stained with the blood of her father. She'd always liked that blouse; Lizzie didn't keep the typical Noble woman's closet and only owned maybe 4 blouses appropriate for shipboard service. She'd never wear that one again, though, particular when -- as she was tossing it out the windows of the stateroom -- she found a chunk of one of her father's ribs trapped in the collar.

Once she'd finished sobbing uncontrollably, Lizzie locked the doors, stripped to her skin, and gave herself a cloth bath in room temperature water. She donned clean undergarments, a fresh blouse, and used the still-wet rag and a second dry one to clean the blood and body tissue from her leather vest and trousers before drying and donning them again.

By the time she returned to the Main Deck, the crew was abuzz with the only thing of importance right now: the Captaincy. Lizzie looked about herself, taking in the faces of the crew; without fail, each man reached his hand to his hat and tipped it in sorrowful respect to her; those not wearing a hat made the same gesture with their hand, again showing their emotions.

Lizzie was well aware that this tragedy wasn't only her own. The crew of Martha had loved and honored Robert Thomas: most of the sailors and officers had been with Robert from the time they'd boarded and seized the Spanish carrack that he would rename for his deceased wife; and some of them had been with him dating back to his first sailing vessel, the Windham.

Robert had treated them all very well, when compared to other commercial or privateering Captains. He'd never punished a man for something of which he wasn't guilty, and he'd only ever punished a guilty man as much as was necessary to instill upon him and the rest of the crew a desire not to perform the same offense.

And he'd paid them far better than most Captains, too. In fact, Lizzie -- who knew that the compensation was good for moral -- had still questioned her father's generosity at times, warning him that he wasn't keeping back enough coin for emergencies or for his retirement. Robert had only hugged and kissed her and told, "All will be fine. The men come first."

Now, Lizzie climbed the ladder to the poop deck to speak to the men about the Captaincy. Before she could say a word, though, the First Officer, a stern man who Lizzie had caught ogling her on many occasions over the years, spoke up first.

"The loss of Captain Thomas is a horrific loss, men..." he began, turning more to Lizzie as he doffed his hat respectfully to her and adding with feigned sorrow, "...m'lady."

He turned to look down to the main deck again, continuing, "But we will continue onward ... and make Captain Thomas proud of us ... with me filling his position as Captain ... until a proper time at which we can vote upon the Martha's new leadership."

There was an immediate murmur across the decks...

 

[desperado1089]

Sailing east away from New Providence Island

Second Mate Witham looked at the First Mate contemptuously. "Why? So you can start hoarding all the loot for y'self? Or maybe you covet something even more precious?" He stepped protectively in front of Lizzie; he knew that she could swing a cutlass like the best of them, but the gesture was symbolic more than anything: I will not let him touch you. "T'aint no better time to vote than now, I reckon. All stop!"

When the sails were furled and the anchor dropped, he called out, "All those who want to continue the way things were, fairly and without prejudice, who want Elizabeth Thomas as your captain, step to larboard. Those who want to follow this lout--" he waved a dismissive hand at First Mate William Vane, "--step to starboard."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Aboard the Martha, sailing east away from New Providence Island

"Why?" Second Mate Thomas Witham asked First Mate William Vane when the latter declared that he'd be Acting Captain for an undetermined amount of time. "So you can start hoarding all the loot for y'self?"

Throughout the crowd of sailors, there were jeers both for and against Thomas. They were each popular with the crew, but that popularity was ... interesting. About a third of the sailors liked Thomas far more than William; another third preferred William; while the final third didn't really care for one over the other. This situation had made for some interesting situations when the First and Second Mate hadn't seen eye to eye on issues, such as now, obviously.

"Or maybe you covet something even more precious?" Thomas said as he noticeably stepped in between Lizzie and the other man. She knew instantly what Thomas was suggesting but hearing him say it aloud caused Lizzie to blush fiery red. She was used to members of the crew showing their protectiveness over her when they were in port; there had been numerous fights over the years between members of the Martha's crew and other sailors -- or even townsfolk -- when inappropriate comments or lewd ogles had occurred.

Ironically, Lizzie herself had been involved in a few of those fights, too.

Thomas continued his challenge to William, "T'aint no better time to vote than now, I reckon."

Again, there were jeers and cheers, followed by Thomas calling out, "All stop!"

William stepped up to the poop deck's railing and counter ordered, "No! We keep moving! Crew, stand fast."

Lizzie began to fear a fight, potentially a lethal one. She began searching for a solution to prevent the knives and swords from coming out, when suddenly below her, the Boatswain turned toward the rest of the crew and called out, "You heard the man you scurvy dogs ... all stop! Up the masts, furl those sails..."



Tense minutes passed ever so slowly as the sails were tied up, and the men returned to the main deck. Lizzie ventured to the starboard side to put more distance between her and William; she didn't actually think that he would do anything violent to her, but she'd learned from her father that it better to be safe than dead ... not that that had saved him on this particular day.

When the men were again assembled, Thomas instructed them to split up based upon whether they supported Lizzie as Captain of William, the lout.

William gripped the hilt of his cutlass, growling something Lizzie couldn't make out. The sound of boots shuffling across the deck rose up to her ears, as did the voices of the more vocal sailors who chastised their crewmates who they felt were moving the wrong direction. She moved forward to the railing to look down upon the men; more than half of them had very quickly moved one way or the other, while in the center of the deck, the rest were either hesitating on their own decision or trying to convince other undecideds to join them to port or starboard.

A fight broke out amongst five men still midships, a tussle that only lasted a few seconds before others broke it up. The Boatswain spoke up again, screaming at the men in his native Portuguese, of which Lizzie only knew the more common tasking words and, of course, curse words.

Finally, when the crew was split up decisively, Lizzie hurried began counting heads. The Martha currently had a crew of 70 after her father's death earlier in the day. The closer she got to the all-important number of 36, the more she realized that she was trembling with anxiety.

She got to the last man on her side of the ship, and her heart fell at the number: 33. It couldn't be right! There was no chance. She began counting again, pausing a moment when one of the pro-William men called out, "35 for William Vane! 35! That's a majority!"

The men on the starboard side cheered for the man who was going to be Captain, only to be shouted down by their opponents when someone on Lizzie's side corrected, "There's 70 of us, you idiotic lout! 35 isn't a majority!"

Lizzie found herself losing count, not only because of the sudden movement of the sailors below her but because her brain was interrupting her with Hey! There's one sailor down there that can divide 70 by 2. That's impressive!

"Shut up and stay still, you heathens!" the Boatswain was again ordering as he walked about, pushing men toward their selected side. It took another two or three minutes to calm the crew down enough, after which he turned back toward William, Thomas, Lizzie, and the fourth person currently on the poop deck. To the latter, the Boatswain demanded, "You count'em, Rollins. You're our numbers man, right?"

Rollins looked to Lizzie, who nodded to him. Softly, she said, "Go ahead. If I can't trust the man who keeps count of our money, who can I trust."

He tilted his cap to her, turned to the crew, told them to hold still as the Boatswain had, and began counting with an extended finger. A bit less than a minute later, after his finger had made a circuit from starboard forward and port aft, he hesitated with a deeply drawn breath, then looked to Lizzie and said apologetically, "Miscounted, malady. 34 for you, malady; 35 for Mister Vane. That's just 69--"

"Did ya count us, you fool?" William growled, gesturing between the other three on the uppermost deck with him.

Rollins glared at the man, countering, "If I hadn't, you stupid oaf, I would have come up with 67, not 69, doncha think?"

The men glared at each other a moment before Lizzie encouraged Rollins to begin again. Once more, he finished and said regretfully, "34-35 ... 69 total. I don't ... I don't know." He hollered down to the crew, "Straighten up, you fools. And take off those fuckin' hats so I can see your faces, fuck almighty."

Suddenly, there was the scuffling of boots on wood, and a crewman appeared from a forward door a deck down; he was still tying the rope holding his trousers together. Looking up and finding 69 faces staring down at him, he explained, "I was taking a shit."

The crew grumbled, cursed, and threw things at the man as he climbed up the latter, asked whose side was whose, and -- to Lizzie's great relief -- moved to starboard.

The Quartermaster smiled as he looked to the boat owner's daughter, then tried his best to hide his delight as he told William, "35-35 ... vote's tied."

Someone down below them hollered out, "Ties're broken by the boat owner ... and that's Lizzie!"

He and his supporters were suddenly being shouted down by both William and his supporters shouted him down. Lizzie didn't know what to do; there had never been a tied vote on any issue before, so she didn't even know whether that was or was not a firm rule.

She looked to Thomas for some sort of support...

 

[desperado1089]

Aboard the Martha

Thomas stalked up to the nearest crewman, yanked his flintlock from its holster and fired into the air for silence. "Oi! What the devil has gotten into you lot?" He thrust the pistol back at the crewman (who was one of William's supporters) with enough force to make the man stumble backwards as if punched in the gut. "Are you like the pissants in King George's court, arguin' and squabblin' like children? Or are ye men of fortune, acceptin' of the democratic process even when it don't go your way? Eh?" The crew fell silent and most looked sullen. "I thought so. Now, since the normal way of breakin' ties won't work, since we all know this twatwaffle will just vote for himself--", he jabbed his finger at William, "--it falls t' me. And my vote is for Elizabeth!"

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Aboard the Martha, bobbing in the Tarpum Bay east of New Providence

Lizzie hadn't realized what Thomas was doing when he snatched a flintlock and fired it into the air; she flinched and backed up a step and -- even surprising herself a moment later -- snatched her dagger from her belt.

"Oi!" he called out. "What the devil has gotten into you lot?"

Lizzie's heart was beating hard and fast, but -- knowing that she wasn't in danger -- casually returned her blade to its proper place, hopping that no one had noticed her reaction. Thomas questioned the pissants' arguin' and squabblin' like children, doing his best to end the madness by saying about the tied vote, "--it falls t' me. And my vote is for Elizabeth!"

The Quartermaster took a step closer to Thomas, saying in a quiet voice, "I, um ... I already counted you, Mister Witham." He paused, looking for Thomas reaction, then clarified, "I assumed you would be voting for Lady Thomas--"

"Hey!" Lizzie snapped at Rollins.

The Quartermaster tipped his hat at Lizzie, correcting, "Miss Thomas."

Some of the crew had had a more difficult time abandoning Lizzie's title of Lady than the others. Her father's father was a Nobleman back in England, which legally made Robert a Noble, too; and as an extension, Lizzie had been a Noble and, thus, a Lady.

But with the King's issuance of an arrest warrant for him because of his continued privateering after the withdrawal of his Letter of Marque, Lord Robert Thomas was Noble no more, nor was his daughter.

William Vane stepped forward to the railing to be better seen by the crew spread across the deck of the Martha, declaring, "I'm the First Officer, and she's just a silly girl--"

Immediately there was an uproar from Lizzie's supporters, followed just as quickly by William's. The First Officer continued, "Vote be damned! I'm not going to serve under a little slit like this!"

Now, pushing erupted across the decks, with a few punches thrown before the lower ranked Officers who were down there with the crew got them under control. William tried to take advantage of the simmering anger and the potential for beneficial violence by calling out over the crew, "The only way I'd serve under this wench was if she killed me first!"

"Then I'll kill you!" Lizzie cried out loud enough for the Officers and Crew to hear her. The mayhem stilled quickly, and as William looked her way with a curious expression, Lizzie growled at him, "If I have to kill you to rightfully become Captain of the Martha ... then I challenge you."

She pulled the foot-long dagger from her belt again, looked out over the crew, and declared, "I challenge William Vane to single combat for the Captaincy of the Martha."

Lizzie scanned the crew below her and very quickly noticed that the men on the port side -- her supporters -- had gone very quiet, while those on the starboard -- William's supporters -- were cheering and jeering; it was obvious that the vast majority of the crew had no confidence in Lizzie's ability to win a fight with the First Mate who was more than a head taller than her, more than 80 pounds heavier than her, and covered with scars from the many previous fights and battles both through which he'd come out alive.

 

[desperado1089]

Aboard the Martha, bobbing in the Tarpum Bay east of New Providence

Thomas watched the unfolding events with growing trepidation, grateful for those down on the main deck that kept the peace...barely. When Lizzie challenged William to single combat, his heart plummeted. He had also caught himself looking at Lizzie in ways his father might discourage, but unlike the lout who would force himself upon the Captaincy, Thomas' eyes would hold tenderness, a caring, even. If he'd had time to process his emotions, he would have probably said he had fallen for the lass.

So it was like trying to force his way through a sea of molasses when he once again stepped in front of Lizzie. "Nay, lass! Let me fight in your place! I will cut this dog down once and for all!" Although he knew in his heart that Lizzie would insist upon fighting William herself, so when the inevitable happened and she stood her ground, he would nod to Rollins who held something out to Lizzie. It was her father's sword, recovered from the deck after earlier's tragedy. "If you're gonna kill him, best do it proper-like," Thomas said.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

(OOC: This ran a bit long, but instead of editing it down, I turned it into 2 posts. I didn't want to either take the time nor delete a single word.)

Aboard the Martha, bobbing in the Tarpum Bay east of New Providence

"Nay, lass!" Thomas said when Lizzie called out William for single combat to the death. "Let me fight in your place! I will cut this dog down once and for all!"

Lizzie was tempted to go with a champion, but she knew what had to happen. She told Thomas, "The crew'll never accept me as their Captain if I don't do this myself."

What the hell have you gotten yourself into? she thought. It wasn't as if Lizzie hadn't been in a fight before, and it wasn't as if she hadn't killed before either. The irony of it was that the only man who knew she had was the man standing before her, asking to be her champion: Thomas Witham.

It had happened a year ago, as the Martha was setting upon a Spanish commercial ship. As soon as the pirate ship raised its Jolly Roger, the prize had struck its colors, kept its cannon ports, and gathered its crew upon the deck, seemingly unarmed.

But after the boarding crew crossed to secure the ship, hidden Spaniards burst out with pistols and long guns firing, sending a cloud of gray smoke across the deck of the commercial vessel. Several of Martha's crew fell in that first volley, and suddenly a vicious fight was raging as reinforcements from Martha leapt the bulwarks to join the fray.

Lizzie had been on the deck of Martha, as she had during previous, peaceful boardings, but even before the first cloud of smoke had cleared, Robert had grabbed her and forced her inside the hallway leading to their cabin, demanding, "Find a place to hide!"

Initially, Lizzie had complied, but as the battle raged out of sight, her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she'd emerged onto the quarterdeck. Suddenly, Lizzie had found herself face to face with a big ugly Spaniard who was one of a handful who'd crossed unseen to the Martha.

The man had looked Lizzie up and down, smiled, and growled, "Un hermoso premio, esperando mi espada."

Lizzie had, of course, been educated by her father in Spanish; she'd also learned Portuguese, French, and Dutch from some of the Martha's other multi-ethnic crew and had tutors in Nassau. So, she knew what the man was saying: A beautiful prize awaiting my sword ... meaning he wanted to stick his cock into her.

He'd never had the chance, though, as Lizzie pulled out the sword she'd been hiding behind her back and sunk it deep inside the Spaniard's gut. Blood sprayed onto Lizzie, coating her hands, clothes, and even her face.

She'd pulled her weapon from the crying man's torso and screamed for help, more out of concern for the ship than for herself. Suddenly, from all around her, the Martha's crew was taking on the Spaniards, with blades, fists, blunt instruments, and even a few flintlocks that hadn't yet been discharged.

For her part, Lizzie had backed through the door toward her stateroom again, watching the fight from a safe -- or, at the least, safer -- location. She'd known that if her father found her out here -- let alone covered with a now-dead man's blood -- that he'd never allow her onto the sea again.

Once the fighting waned and she knew that the battle was won, Lizzie hurried inside to strip, clean up, and redress. She'd barely finished when Robert hurried inside to check on her. Innocently, she asked, "Is it done, Papa...? Did we win?"

Her father would never know what she'd done. Lizzie had initially thought that no one had seen her out there, until Thomas Witham came to her, checking on her and confessing that he'd seen it all. Lizzie had begged him to say nothing -- to her father, to the crew, to no one -- and, as far as she knew, he'd complied.

Lizzie was happy that Thomas had seen her that day as it meant that, perhaps, he believed that she could actually take William now. As she again studied William and wondered how she'd so stupidly let this come about, Thomas surprised Lizzie by handing over her own father's blade. He told her, "If you're gonna kill him, best do it proper-like."

"Thank you, Thomas," Lizzie said, taking the sword. It was heavy, but she'd often trained with it behind her father's back, so she knew that she was perfectly capable of handling it.

"Let's get this over!" William demanded, pulling his own sword and pointing it Lizzie's direction. He added, "And don't think 'cause you're a little girl--"

"Shut your fucking trap!" Lizzie hollered at him, using a profane word that only very rarely came out of her mouth. She turned and descended from the poop deck to the quarterdeck where there was more room to move about. Lizzie knew that she couldn't simply get into a head-to-head, close quarters fight with the big man; she needed the ability to move about.

William followed her down, lofting his sword in the air to urge more cheers from those supporting him. Lizzie scanned the crew's faces, finding herself surprised -- happily so -- at what she was seeing. Despite half of the crew earlier supporting William as Captain, she didn't find a single person now cheering the big man on; his supporters appeared to be as shocked at the announcement of a to-the-death fight as Lizzie had been when she'd proposed it.

"I hate to cut up such a pretty young thing," William taunted as he circled around the quarterdeck. He jammed the tip of his sword into the wood of the deck, standing it tall as he shed his hat, vest, and no-longer-needed weapons belt and continued, "How 'bouts you just concede ... I take Captain ... and you go buy yourself another ship with daddy's money."

A few of William's supporters laughed, while many of Lizzie's jeered and called him a variety of foul names. William, undaunted, continued as he conspicuously leered at Lizzie's body, "Or perhaps we forget the blades and do this fist-to-fist ... and after I've beat the crap out of you and your bruises fade ... making you a lovely lass once again ... I move into the Captain's Stateroom with you ... and you can suck my cock every night as First Officer."

As he'd been talking, Lizzie had been looking about herself, checking her surroundings for both advantages and disadvantages. She glared at William at his suggestion of her becoming his consort, growling back, "I'd rather suck every other cock in Nassau then to ever be found between the sheets with you, you filth!"

Some of those supporting her began cheering and jeering again, now with some of William's anxious supporters finally becoming vocal. Lizzie doubted that any of the men wanted to see her hurt, let alone killed. They were conflicted, though, because -- as the vote had shown -- half of the crew did in fact want William as their Captain.

The First Officer pulled his sword from its resting spot tip point into the deck and told her with the meanest tone she'd ever heard, "After I stick my blade in ya and yer dead, I'm gonna fuck you hard and deep, then turn your dead body over to the crew so that they--"

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

(Part 2)

That was as far as William got in his horrific threat as Lizzie quickly snatched a dagger from the belt of a nearby pirate and threw it through the air at him; it whizzed past his head, cutting through an ear before thunking into the main mast. The pirate grabbed at his head, pulling back his bloodied hand, smiling, and growling slowly, "So it starts."

William lunged forward, slashing his sword through the air and down at the girl. Lizzie deftly avoided the clumsy attack, circling around him and swinging her own blade; its tip cut through William's shirt but didn't reach his body. All about her, cheers arose in her favor while she backed away, waiting for William to recover from his awkward attack.

Recover he did, continuing his attack, one swing or jab after another, until the pair of them had circled each other two or three times on the quarterdeck. At one point, Lizzie stepped back to find only air beneath her foot as she inadvertently stepped over the quarterdeck's steps to the main deck. She fell to her back, wincing in pain but quickly rolling to get back to her feet as William leapt down to the deck and continued his attack.

All around them, crew members were backing from the fight, not wanting to get in the way or get stuck themselves. The fight continued with Lizzie on continual defense but effectively avoiding or blocking William's slashes and stabs.

At one point when he got off balance, she kicked the top of a rack of cannon balls, causing several of them to roll out before the man. He stepped on one he didn't see, stumbled and fell forward. Lizzie took the opportunity and stabbed her blade forward, piercing William's shoulder before again backing away. He cried out at the pain, causing her supporters to again cheer out for her.

The fight continued with the now very pissed off pirate raging at Lizzie. She continued backing, blocking, and occasionally jabbing her father's blade forward. Suddenly, she stepped on something she hadn't seen and lost her balance just as William was slashing her way. His blade's tip caught her across her left forearm, sending out a spray of blood as she cried out in pain.

"Give up you stupid wench!" William demanded as Lizzie clutched at her wound. "Quit this and join me in command--"

"And in your bed...?" Lizzie called back, reminding William of his ridiculous suggestion from earlier. "I'd rather be dead."

"I can arrange that," he said in a calm voice as he smiled and continued his attack.

The fight continued for far longer than Lizzie had hoped or had even imagined. William was on the offensive almost entirely, with Lizzie's only offensive success being once again sinking the tip of her blade into his thigh once and cutting harmlessly through his clothes once more.

She was beginning to tire, but thankfully she could see in William's movements and lacking coordination that he, too, was becoming exhausted from his continual attack. She teased him on for another minute or so, backing toward and again onto the quarterdeck and the mizzenmast.

As William was mounting the steps, Lizzie quickly attacked, throwing him off guard; the toe of his boot caught the top step, and as he stumbled forward out of control, she jabbed her father's sword forward, sinking inches of it into his side. William rolled and popped to his feet, his face filled with pain as he grasped at his torso.

Lizzie could see that suddenly, she had the advantage. Instead of simply trying to kill him, she offered, "Surrender ... give up this fight ... and I'll let you live. You'll leave the Martha with triple your due shares ... enough to buy yourself a small sloop and begin--"

But even as she was still making her offer, William let out a loud scream and charged. Lizzie deftly stepped aside as she had during his first attack, but this time her jab sunk her blade deep into his other side. William stumbled to the bulwark, hitting it hard, regaining his stance, and turning back to Lizzie; he was actively leaking from both sides, the blood flooding his shirt and dripping to his boots and the deck.

"Don't be a bull-headed idiot, William!" Lizzie growled. "You've lost the fight! Don't lose your life, too."

But the angered, desperate pirate charged again, his sword high above him in a clumsy attack. As he reached her and swung, Lizzie again stepped out of the way once more, and as William turned back to face her, she jabbed the blade with all she had.

The sword -- tilted in the hopes of clearing between the man's ribs -- entered William's frontside and exited out his backside. The man fell forward against Lizzie, taking the both of them to their knees. They looked into each other's eyes, though, Lizzie doubted that William was seeing anything but his death before him.

He coughed once, then a second time; the third time sent blood onto Lizzie's blouse. As she struggled against his weight, trying to not fall over herself, she whispered to him, "I forgive you, William."

The man slid off to one side, slamming to the deck, already dead. Lizzie struggled to her feet, looking to William, then to her bloodied clothes, then to the crew. There was nothing but silence and shock, from both sides of the vote and fight. Lizzie performed a full turn, looking into the eyes of each and every crew member before speaking.

"William Vane was a brave, fearless fighter...!" she told them, pointing a bloodied index finger his way as she continued, "...who only wanted the best for the crew of the Martha."

She stepped to him and knelt as she continued, "He will be honored with a proper burial! And after that ... we will return to New Providence ... and we will find that fucking English bastard who killed our Captain ... we will find his fucking ship ... and we will BURN IT TO THE WATERLINE!"

 

[desperado1089]

Aboard the Martha, bobbing in the Tarpum Bay east of New Providence

As the crew raised a cry as one in response to Lizzie's declaration, Thomas drew his cutlass and held it aloft the same way the crew doing. "And we will follow Captain Elizabeth Thomas to hell if needs be, won't we lads?" Another cheer, even louder than the last, erupted from the crew. "But we won't go quietly, will we?" A more disjointed chorus of words and noises followed, but the general gist of an emphatic 'hell fucking no' could easily be discerned. "We'll send that bastard British captain there first, won't we?!?!" The loudest cheer yet came rolling across the deck of the ship like a physical force, and where before the crew were evenly divided, now they were unified, some even loudly advocating that they turn the ship around right now and see if the bastard was still in the area. Thomas held his off-hand up for silence. "Until our new Captain decides as much, everyone back to yer posts, and resume our previous headin'!" The crew hopped to it and Thomas walked up to Lizzie and said, "Ye did great, lass. Want me to help clean that cut o' yers?"

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Aboard the Martha, bobbing in the Tarpum Bay east of New Providence

Lizzie listened to Thomas rally the sailors, doing her best to ignore her injuries. Many of them were advocating for them to chase down the English ship right away, to which Thomas said that was up to the new Captain.

"...everyone back to yer posts, and resume our previous headin'!"

Lizzie was standing in the middle of the deck by this time, almost dead center in the middle of the ship. As the crew returned to their duties, she was happily surprised as each and every one of them walked past her, tipping their caps -- actual and imagined -- in respect, even those who had to detour to her before turning back to their posts.

"Ye did great, lass," Thomas said after the salute and dispersing of crew. "Want me to help clean that cut o' yers?"

She was still watching the crew as they worked to get the Martha back underway. Casually, she lifted her leather vest from her right side; blood was staining her blouse where William had stabbed her, unseen by the others. She said softly, "I didn't want the others to see this ... but ... maybe..."

She went silent, realizing that she was getting light-headed. Still whispering, she said, "Get me to my quarters ... quick ... but ... without appearing quick."

 

[desperado1089]

Aboard the Martha, sailing east from New Providence

Nodding silently, Thomas slipped an arm around Lizzie's waist, a rather familiar and intimate gesture but he wasn't really sure how else to be subtle; the upside was that if she needed to be helped along, he could easily take her weight without it being obvious. And thankfully the wound was on the far side of him, so he wouldn't get bloody.

When they got to her quarters he shut and locked the door before helping her out of her clothes, all save for her slip. "Erm, Lizzie, ye got blood all o'er, ye sure you want me to linger?" Yet he was already preparing to help her, grabbing bottles of strong alcohol and bandages, along with needle and thread. "Gonna be a lil' difficult to stitch ye up if ye still have yer slip on," he mumbled.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Aboard the Martha, sailing east from New Providence

Lizzie did her best not to grimace at the pain from the wounds; the adrenaline of the fight was wearing off quickly, and by the time Thomas got her safely behind her stateroom's locked door, tears were visibly streaking down her face.

Revealing his chivalry, Thomas asked about how he was going to help her with layers of clothes still covering her wounds. "Gonna be a lil' difficult to stitch ye up if ye still have yer slip on."

"Turn 'round," she ordered, curling a downward pointed, extended index fingertip between them. ""Turn "round!

When Thomas complied, Lizzie began stripping her clothes off, one piece after another until she was wearing nothing but her pantaloons. She'd intended to stop there, but even they had blood on their waist band from the wound in her side.

Checking that Thomas was indeed still turned away, Lizzie shed them as well, leaving her standing there in the nude. What she hadn't considered in her pained state was that on the wall before Thomas were four different reflective surfaces -- a sword, a sterling silver platter, and not one but two mirrors which may very well have given the sailor views of her ... if he looked.

Lizzie found a wide bandage and wrapped it around her bosom; it hid her apple-sized breasts but did nothing to hide the eternally hardened nubs in the middle of them.

Sitting on a stool, Lizzie pulled a blanket from the bed to hide her from her hips to her feet on her left side. Her right leg and hip, which was bloodied, remained visible to Thomas.

"Turn round," she ordered meekly. "I'm ready, doctor."

She chuckled softly, adding, "Maybe we get a Surgeon before we visit that English prick."

The Martha had been without a ship's doctor for a month or so, since there last one had gotten drunk and fallen overboard.

 

[desperado1089]

Aboard the Martha, sailing east from New Providence

Thomas of course did look, he couldn't help himself. He certainly liked what he saw, and hoped that the darkness of his breeches would hide how his body betrayed him. When he was bade to turn back around, he did so, and didn't fail to notice her nipples were as hard as his cock would have been were he subjected to the torture of seeing her nude for longer than he had been. Pushing those feelings down and burying them deeper than Davy Jones' locker, he took up needle, thread and alcohol and set to work, trying to distract her by humming tunes, but he could only really manage the shanties that the crew sang on duty.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Captain Lizzie Thomas's Stateroom aboard the Martha
Now resuming course back toward New Providence

"Oww!" Lizzie exclaimed at the first pricking of her skin by the curved sewing needle; she'd always been told that the heating of it over the candle reduced the pain as it entered, and only now did she realize that that was total bullshit. She endured the pain with each successive stitch, wishing that she drank rum like the other men when they were being treated for their wounds, whether related to battle, common fights, or accidents of stupidity.

When Thomas began humming sea shanties, she couldn't help but smile -- in between the grimaces. As he moved to the wound on her left arm, she pulled the blanket over her right leg and hip; she thought maybe she saw an expression of disappointment on Thomas's face, but perhaps it was just her hope that her bare flesh had affected him as it normally did when men looked at women.

As he was shifting to her other side and rose to height, Lizzie couldn't help but glance to his groin. She was sure that his sword was stiffened by their strange interaction, but the looseness of his trousers made it hard to determine.

Despite being surrounded by men for the vast majority of her life, the now-19-year-old Elizabeth Thomas was, of course, a virgin. Her father had done an extremely good job of ensuring that she'd never been left in a situation of vulnerability, either by being near her himself or by having trusted Officers with her who knew that they'd lose their cock, if not their lives, if any man was to put his hands upon her.

That didn't mean that Lizzie was entirely naive. She'd seen men's thingy before, peeking while they peed over the side of the ship or skinny dipped in the ocean while Martha was at anchor in this bay or that. Once while in Nassau, attending the wedding of the ship's now-unfortunately-deceased Quartermaster, Lizzie had gotten her female chaperone falling down drunk on rum punch, then snuck away to find the bride and groom fucking their brains out on a blanket under a palm tree. It had been an eye-opening event, and -- later that night -- resulted in Lizzie touching herself for the first time; she'd delightfully achieved climax, her mind spinning wildly as her chest rose and fell with deep, labored breaths while her heart within it pounded hard and fast.

She'd contemplated trying to recreate that event with a man who would do for her what the Quartermaster had done for his wife. The question, of course, had been with who? And even more so, How...? Without papa finding out?

That, of course, brought up new questions now; without her father here to guard her or assign her guards, did she have to save herself anymore? An even more pressing question was Is my purity and innocence safe now without Papa here to protect me?

Looking at Thomas as he finished up her arm wound, Lizzie had two competing thoughts about him: He'd protect me, I know it, and I want him to be my first. She grimaced one last time as he bit the string short, then wrapped the arm wound with a bandage.

"I'll wrap the other one," she told him, thinking that perhaps it was time for him to leave ... before something inappropriate -- possibly begun by Lizzie herself -- happened here. She smiled to Thomas, saying, "Thank you." Then, remembering his help topside, added, "For everything."

It was time for him to leave, but before he did so, Lizzie quickly brought up something that had been going through her mind clear back to when Thomas had brought her to her Stateroom the first time. "We need a new First Mate, Mister Witham."

She gave him a moment to think about it, then added, "The position is yours if you wish it ... though ... to be honest ... I think I would prefer that you moved into the position of Quartermaster. Mister Rollins was chosen for the position by my father ... and while he's done a perfectly ... adequate job at it ... he's hasn't really been overly effective at the job. If you wished the position, I would move Mister Rollins to 2nd Mate ... and the Boatswain to First Mate. Mister Cooper has filled the position on other vessels before, and I think he would do a superb job at it."

One of Lizzie's chief concerns about Martha had been that the in-flow of money from sales of pillaged goods minus the outflow of coin to the crew or for the operation of the ship had rarely equaled what was actually in the Martha's treasury. When the crew was ashore for leave between pillaging missions and there were far fewer men to accidently walk in on her, Lizzie had often reviewed the book and counted the coinage.

Over the past two years, since Mister Rollins had taken over as Quartermaster, Lizzie had found more than 4,000 Pounds of discrepancy in the books. She'd taken her fears to her father a handful of times, only to have him question Rollins and get what he'd considered a suitable explanation. Lizzie had let it go; she couldn't know whether it had been bad bookkeeping or embezzlement, and because she adored the Quartermaster, she'd decided to let it be.