"The Pirate's Widow"

[Tony2015]

"The Pirate's Widow"​

The Caribbean
Northwest of the Bahamas
1715

Charles "Blackheart" Williamson slashed his sword across his enemy's torso, cutting him open from kidney to kidney. Before the soon to be dead man had even fallen to the deck, the Captain of the pirate ship Julianna has spun to kill yet another man with his second sword and then...

And then he just stood there, surveying the scene before him, his chest rising and falling with the quick, excited breaths of battle. He searched for more enemy to kill, but there was none. Bodies, some still and other writhing in agony, lay all about the ship's deck. Most of the corpses were of the enemy, but Charles knew that some would be from his own crew. His were the most hardened, most skilled, and most feared pirates of the Caribbean, and yet he knew that with each fight he would lose a few. It was, unfortunately, the nature of the beast to take from both sides in one measure or another...



Nassau, The Bahamas
Two days later:

Charles sat in the office of the Black Boar, on the third floor. He'd met with a dozen people concerning the future of the last attack's plunder, and through it all, he'd maintained his cavalier attitude and manner. But when she was escorted in by the owner of the inn and whore house, Charles stood quickly and came around the table to meet her.

"M'lady," he said, taking her hand when he reached her and kissing it lightly.

He gestured her to a seat, then took the one next to her. He could see in her expression that she had already heard of her husband's death or, at the least, suspected that that was the reason she'd been called to meet with his former Captain. He lifted a small bag of coin from the desk and, holding it in both hands before him, looked into her eyes with deep sympathy.

"Your husband fought a good fight, m'lady," he began, unsure of how she would react to the praises of the pirate who was responsible for her now being widowed. He reached out to take one of her hands, turned it over, and placed the leather pouch in it. "A double share, m'lady. The family of any man brave and loyal enough to give his life under my flag is due at least that. I wish ... I wish there was more to offer ... or more to say. Your man will be missed, not only by you, but by his crew mates ... and by me."

 

[LoriDean12345]

Glory
20 years old
35C-25-35
Nationality: Mixed (Caribbean Native, Italian, Black, French, English)
Languages: English, French, Spanish, and African, the language popular amongst the African slaves laboring the Bahamas.

Daughter: Molly, 4 years old
Deceased Husband: Rolland




"M'lady"

Glory watched in silence as the man took and kissed her hand. She hadn't expected such gentlemanly behavior from Captain Blackheart. He was supposed to be a ruthless, blood thirsty pirate. Yet, he was showing such kindness to her. He invited her to sit, then sat near her.

She knew why she was here, of course. The Julianna had arrived before sunset the night before. Glory had rushed to the docks to meet her husband as he disembarked. He didn't. The ship's Quartermaster was one of the last to cross the gangplank to the dock, and when Glory identified herself, his expression told all.

Glory had been told to come here today. She had expected a few words of condolences. Perhaps a wish that luck would be with her.

"Your husband fought a good fight, m'lady."

When Charles placed a coin bag in her hands, Glory was surprised. Not only because she'd never heard of such a thing, but because of its weight.

"A double share, m'lady."

Charles went on to explain how William would be missed. She began sobbing again. She thought she was all cried out. But as the tears fell upon the leather bag, Glory realized there likely would be no end to the tears.

The pirate comforted Glory, and when she was ready to depart, she asked, "What will happen to me now, Captain?" She jiggled the bag, then untied the strings to look at the coins. "Please, do not think me ungrateful, Captain, but this will not support my family for long."

Glory had never learned a trade. At 14, she'd essentially been sold into marriage by her poverty-stricken widowed mother. William had been a surprisingly loving husband and good provider. He'd been working as a blacksmith's apprentice. He'd earned enough to buy the couple a small shack on the outskirts of Nassau.

But the pirate ships working out of the Bahamian capitol had been flooding the islands with gold and silver from the sale of pillaged goods. William wanted more for his wife and young daughter. He'd signed on with the Julianna just three months ago. And in this, his first fight, he would be killed.

"I have no skills beyond caring for my husband and daughter," Glory told Charles. "My daughter is but four years old." She jingled the coins again. "When gone, how will I feed my daughter?"

 

[Tony2015]

(OOC: Wow! I'm tickled that you chose JKP as your image. Total babe.)


Charles watched as the widow untied and opened the bag. He saw both appreciation and disappointment in the coins: appreciation because she'd probably never seen that much coin at one time in her life; but disappointment because as a final pension in exchange fore her husband's life, it couldn't ever be enough.

"Please, do not think me ungrateful, Captain," she began, not at all surprising Charles, "but this will not support my family for long. I have no skills beyond caring for my husband and daughter. My daughter is but four years old." She indicated the coins and asked, "When gone, how will I feed my daughter?"

Charles wasn't faced with this situation often. The vast majority of his crew were single men, in the legal sense of the word. Now, that didn't mean that these men didn't have women here in Nassau who would faithfully keep their thighs clamped shut while the Julianna was away; nor did it mean that they didn't have children here for whom they provided some financial support because they were either fruits of the pirate's loins or a necessary trade off for continuing to part the thighs of their mothers. What it did mean was that the majority of women waiting for their beloved pirate to return -- or simply pretending to wait while they opened their legs to other men -- were forced to fill the gaps in their financial need with paid work. They did every thing from work the land to repair fishing nets to washing laundry to cooking meals, whether for the island's landed elite or for the on-shore pirates in the multitude of taverns and whore houses that lined Bay Street.

In all honesty, while he'd heard tales of them, Charles couldn't remember having actually met a legal wife of a crewman in all his 12 years of pirate life. Why did the first honest woman he met have to be widowed, without means, and looking to him for answers?

"You have no skills upon which you can fall back?" he asked. Her answer was negative. "Perhaps a connection to a business on Bay Street ... an establishment which can pay you for your labor." The widow made it clear to Charles that that was unlikely. The things a wife did for her husband and child inside their own home -- cooking, cleaning, sewing -- weren't that different than what others in Nassau would need done inside their places of business. But there was currently an over abundance of non-pirate labor in the port city. Several years of plentiful pillaging had attracted workers from all over the Bahamas and beyond, and now -- after a less fruitful year -- work that didn't involve sailing a ship and attacking others was hard to find, particularly for a woman.

Of course, there was one type of employment that a woman could find in Nassau regardless of the strength of the economy. Charles hesitated to ask the widow if she was willing to earn her living on her back, knees up. The best he could do was say, "I can speak to the Lady of this House on your behalf. Perhaps ... cooking in the galley. Or pouring drinks."

He knew that such work would not bring her much money. The women working downstairs fell into two categories: those who divided their time between serving up drinks and serving up themselves and, therefore, earned enough to make such work worth their while; and those who stuck to filling flagons and cleaning tables and, therefore, snuck into their pockets the uneaten morsels from the plates they cleared to take home to ensure that their children did not starve.

Charles hated the idea of turning this good woman into a common tavern wench. But he hated the idea of turning her out to the cold even more. He reached out and took her hand again. "I will make the introduction, m'lady. You do with it what you will. Yes?"

 

[LoriDean12345]

"I can speak to the Lady of this House on your behalf. Perhaps ... cooking in the galley. Or pouring drinks."

Glory's gaze dropped quickly to her lap. Even though he hadn't said so, she'd instantly interpreted his sentence to I'm sure the Lady of the House could use another whore.

"I will make the introduction, m'lady. You do with it what you will. Yes?"

That only confirmed in Glory's mind that he knew the end all result as well. She hesitated, then stood quickly. She stared at the bag of coins, then told him through advancing tears, "I thank you for your generosity, Captain. But I would not want to put you out. I am sure I and my child will--"

She couldn't get any farther before she sobbed. She did a very quick and curt bow, then turned and fled as quickly as she could.



Sixteen Days Later:

Glory ascended the steps to the third floor with great hesitation. The bar wench before her looked back often, as if to ensure that the stranger hadn't fled back down and out. The woman knocked on the door of the office, then opened it. "M'lady. Someone to speak to you."

"Show her in," another female voice said.

As the wench stepped aside, Glory took the final steps into the office. She flinched at the sound of the door closing behind her.

"You are Captain Williamson's friend, no?" the woman asked in English but with an obviously French accent. When Glory only stood there, gaze on the floor, the woman stood and went to her. She took her hand and led her to the same chair in which she'd sat what felt like ages ago now. "Please. You have nothing to fear here, my dear. We are all friends here. My name is--"

She smiled broadly, continuing, "Many will often call me many things, but my name is Louisa. However, once you come to work for me, you will call me m'lady."

After she sat Glory and returned around to her own seat, she asked, "You are looking for work, no?"

Glory hesitated, then nodded.

"You have experience in this line of work?"

Glory wasn't exactly sure which line of work the woman meant. And she was afraid to ask for fear of implying something degrading. Glory didn't know if this woman herself was just a tavern and whore house owner or one of its workers, too. And if she was the latter, would the woman think it a degrading job or a proud profession?

Louisa straightened that out by asking, "Cleaning. Cooking. Laundry. You have done this before, no?"

Glory drew a deep breath of relief. She nodded with emphasis, looking up for just a peek as she said, "Yes, m'lady. I have done this before. I was married. My husband--"

She felt a sudden sob threatening.

"Yes, he is dead. You are widowed." Louisa spoke the words with just enough sympathy in them to reassure Glory that the woman cared. Maybe. A bit. "You have a child, no?"

Glory nodded. "A girl. Four."

"You will live in the workers home out back," Louisa said, standing, gesturing Glory to her, and moving to a set of French doors. She passed through them to the veranda. When Glory joined her, she gestured down to the filthy alley separating the tavern from a decrepit building inland just a mere three yards. She pointed to a fat, ugly woman who was black as night. "There. Meera. You go to her, tell her you have child. She will make a room."

She pulled Glory closer to the wooden railing and pointed to a gaggle of children playing. Girls nearly to their teens stood by, watching the younger ones while doing such tasks as washing and sewing clothes. "You find girl to watch little one. Then, you come back to me, and I show you your duties. No?"

Glory hesitated. Her baby had never been out of the sight of either her or her one truly trusted neighbor. The thought of being away for hours a day while slaving away in a public house for starvation wages was not an easily palatable one. But the other choice was to lay on her back and let men threaten her with yet another fatherless child.

She nodded. "Yes, m'lady."

 

[Tony2015]

Six days later:

The Julianna dropped anchor a couple of hundred yards out in the harbor rather than tying up to the pier. Blackheart had some business with which to deal before heading into port. They held the trial in under three minutes, and in clear view of the people on shore anxiously awaiting the pirates and their newly gained booty, the accused was pushed off the bow toward the sea below. He didn't reach the water, though, coming to a sudden stop at the end of the rope tied around his neck. With a snap the coward was dead.

Banners lowered, indicating the end of the proceeding. Within seconds, men in boats were pushing away from the docks to meet the boat, just as boats on the Julianna were being lowered to perform the opposite trip. In less than an hour, the entire crew -- short the Watch -- and their individual shares of the easily transported booty would be ashore, bringing yet more wealth to Nassau's populace.



"Where is she?"

Louisa pulled away from Charles and turned to search the milling crowd now packing the Black Gull Tavern. After a moment, she pointed toward a trio of tables situation on a mezzanine in the very back, partially hidden by draperies. "There is your widow."

Charles kissed the proprietor deeply, grasped a tit hard -- making her first gasp in surprise, then laugh -- then made his way to toward the mezzanine. Glory caught sight of him as she was about to descend, her hands filled with flagons.

"Good evening, m'lady," he said politely, stepping past her to glare at the two men sitting in the mezzanine. They donned expressions that were a mix of fear and respect, greeted Charles and made their farewells in almost the same breaths, and departed, leaving the pirate captain alone with the bar maid. Charles dropped into a chair and asked, "Will you join me for a moment ... Glory, wasn't it?"

She was working, obviously, but Charles only waved another bar maid over, stuffed a coin into her ample and overly displayed bosom, and asked her to take the big flagons away. After they were alone again, Charles began a polite inquiry as to how she was getting along.

(OOC: Sending you a list of the questions he might ask. Pick and choose and add to them to make for a good exchange of dialogue. I trust you will choose wisely, otherwise your face will melt off. Sorry, Indiana Jones reference. )

 

[LoriDean12345]

(FYI: I thought I'd named the husband in a post somewhere, but when I looked for it, I couldn't find it. I named him Rolland. I named the daughter below, too. And FYI, if you ever need to remember these names, I added them to Glory's first post.)

Glory had been clearing tables, washing dishes and flagons, and (during the quieter times) sweeping and mopping floors for the better part of a week. Her duties as a house wife had been hard, but working at the Black Gull was exhausting her as she'd never been before.

She worked from High Sun to well into the night. She went home and, after only a few minutes with her sleeping daughter, was passed out. Near sunrise, her daughter was awake looking for attention. And when her daughter laid down for a nap, she was off again to the tavern.

Day in, day out, for six days, Glory had endured this schedule. She couldn't imagine doing this for the rest of her life. And to make matters worse, she spent much of her day avoiding the groping hands of the pirates and other men who frequented the inn. They didn't understand that she wasn't a whore. Or if they did, they didn't care. She was little more than a walking, talking hole into which they wanted to slip their cocks.

Glory had learned how to minimize the grasping hands by moving in certain ways or along certain avenues through the Black Gull. For her part, Louisa had allowed her to service certain tables or seatings of locals who knew she was only a bar maid. It had helped a great deal. Glory was feeling less humiliated about her work.

Then, she looked up from her work on the mezzanine and saw him. She stopped and backed a step, lowering her gaze. Glory didn't understand why seeing Charles Williamson affected her so. Was it because Blackheart had known Glory's husband? Was it because he'd known Glory when she was only a wife and mother? Was it because he'd arranged for her to work in this den of sin? She just didn't know. But she couldn't meet his gaze as he approached.

"Good evening, m'lady."

Two men sitting in the mezzanine obviously knew who Blackheart was. One hard glare from the pirate sent them packing. He took the bottle of rum being carried away by one of the men and sat.

"Will you join me for a moment ... Glory, wasn't it?"

Glory hesitated, lifting the tray of flagons and dishes in indication. "I have work, m'lord."

That work vanished, though, and quickly she was sitting across from him. She glanced into his eyes occasionally, but she was still unable to maintain her gaze on him.

(FYI: Charles dialogue below was provided me by Tony via pm.)

"You are getting along well, Glory?"

She was hesitant to answer. She hated doing what she was doing. But it was better than the option. Still looking down, she answered simply, "Yes, m'lord."

"And you are being treated well? By Lady Louisa? By the patrons?"

Again, how was Glory to answer? Any one of the men who frequented the Black Gull (pirate or not) would have bent her over a table and fucked her right in front of all if he didn't fear Lady Louisa and her club wielding Toughies. She answered, "Louisa has been very good to me. The patrons--"

She didn't finish the sentence. He probably knew how his and other men treated unmarried women working taverns.

"Are you earning enough to care for you daughter? Molly, yes?"

Glory looked up with surprise, fixing her attention on Charles. How did he know her daughter's name? Glory hadn't told her. Had he heard it from Louisa? Glory didn't even recall telling her boss the name. Louisa could have heard it from Meera, the Landlady. Or. No. Could he have heard it from her now dead husband, Rolland? Even if he had, would he have remembered Molly's name? Why would he? He was a pirate. Her dead husband's former employer, and for only a single mission.

She lowered her gaze to the table again. She spoke with a tone that very well revealed her dismay with her current situation. Her statements came out one at a time, separated by little gaps of thought.

"We are living in a room out back."

"We eat with others."

"People I don't know."

"I do not see Molly. Not much. Not often."

"I miss my husband."

"He took care of us. Earned money."

"I am so tired, m'lord."

Glory felt tears welling in her eyes. She didn't want to cry before this man. Before this pirate. Yet, a moment later, she began sobbing.

 

[Tony2015]

It was obvious to Charles that Glory was not enjoying her new life. Of course, he hadn't expected that. Whether she was parting her legs for money or not, this was no place for a good woman to make her living.

"Louisa has been very good to me," Glory answered.

Charles had expected that, though. Louisa was known for her gentle, kind ways, whether toward her workers -- male and female both -- or toward her patrons. It was the reason Charles had had no qualms about recommending Glory to Louisa.

"The patrons--"

When Glory didn't finish, Charles said softly, "You will learn to deal with such men, m'lady. You will learn to leave this place at the end of the day and forget all that has happened ... to not take it home with you, to your life ... with your daughter."

He gave her a moment to contemplate that before asking, "Are you earning enough to care for you daughter? Molly, yes?"

He saw the surprise in Glory's eyes at the mention of her daughter's given name. Whether the young mother knew it or not, Louisa had been keeping very close tabs on her. Glory was a stunningly beautiful woman, and Louisa wasn't in the habit of letting such a wonder escape her. After all, Charles hadn't recommended the woman for filling a vacancy for scrubbing plates or mobbing hard wood planks. In fact, after Louisa had told Charles that she had no need for another closed-thighs bar maid, he had offered to put up the woman's first three months of table cleaning wages. It was only after Louisa first laid eyes on the young beauty that she laughed and told the pirate to save his hard pillaged coin.

So when Charles asked about Glory, the tavern keeper had had a great deal of news for him. What Louisa had had to tell him was expected. Glory hadn't begun parting her thighs for paying customers, but she was feeling the pressure of being a single mother with no skills. Really, Glory only had two options: marry one man and give up control of herself to him; or fuck many and keep a relatively higher level of control for herself.

Charles was rooting for the latter, of course. And he was hoping to be the man with whom she made that transition. As he listened, Glory went on to describe her current living situation. It was ironic that there were so many other people who lived more miserable existences, yet Charles felt more compassion for her than them. She was a sexy, young woman who in a different community would have found herself a well-to-do merchant to give her a comfortable home, beautiful clothes, and many, many children. Yet here, in Nassau, she was scraping wooden plates and mopping up puke.

"I miss my husband," she said, hesitating before adding, "He took care of us. Earned money."

Charles didn't have to hear Glory's next comment to know it was true. He could see it in her eyes and in her body language.

"I am so tired, m'lord."

And then, the water works began. Charles felt sorry for the woman, but what was he supposed to do for her. Giving her money would only delay the inevitable, whether it was becoming a whore to the masses or a wife to a single man. He took another long sip from the bottle, then stood and went to Glory. He took her by one arm and lifted her to her feet.

"You need a day of rest, Glory," he said, leading her down the steps and right toward the stairs that led up to the rooms. "I will arrange a day of rest for you with Lady Louisa, don't you worry."