Paid to the Pirate by Una Rohr

Chapter 38

Colt, the past

Icouldn’t very well turn her off the ship looking like a bedraggled swab, I reasoned. As soon as I cleaned her up, I’d let her go. Once she was made presentable again. The next day we’d dock in Port Royal anyway, and I knew just where to have her tidied.

I didn’t want to parade Charlie through the wharfs, however, so The Dark Blade made berth in a favored inlet a quarter of a mile south of the main port. I bid the men to wait until our return. The imminent night of drinking and whoring kept the crew’s grumbling about the additional walk from our distanced cove to a minimum. And the threat of my wrath dimmed the chatter about Charlie’s newly revealed truth.

Charlie sulked, refusing to speak to me as I led her around the outskirts of town and beyond.

It wasn’t called the Wickedest City on Earth for nothing. Every fourth building was a bar or a brothel. Men entered with the wealth of princes, only to be reduced to paupers, having emptied their bag o’ bits on women and wine. Even at midday, revelry could be heard, carrying through the streets.

We made our way to Estelle’s, an old friend who kept a house free of gossip -- for a price. It was always a fair one for me, but still a price.

“I need access to your bath,” I said, when the no-nonsense blonde opened the door. “I also need a new gown, stockings, shoes… and perhaps, a hairpin of some sort.”

Estelle’s eyes flicked to Charlie, resting there for a while. I could only imagine what she thought, taking in the boy-girl’s filthy appearance, her ill-fitting clothing, and Charlie’s unique expression of fear mixed with defiance.

After a moment, Estelle said, “No hairpin is going to work on that head as she’s got no hair to make it stick.” Opening the door to let us in, she said, “Tub’s upstairs. I’ll have someone fetch water. And I’ll get her a clip.”

“Thank you,” I replied, tipping my head. “I’ll see to payment on our way out.”

Estelle shook her head. “This one’s on me.”

Sequestered in an upstairs room, I studied Charlie as a servant filled the tub with lukewarm water.

A woman, a woman, my mind repeated, flashing back to images of her bare rear.

No wonder she’d always been diligent in cutting her hair as we sailed. It was the very opposite of how negligent she’d been in keeping her body clean.

Once filled, her eyes flicked nervously to the tub, easily guessing what was to come. After we’d been left alone, I folded my arms and stated the obvious.

“You need a bath.”

“Then leave me to bathe,” Charlie ordered, jutting her chin.

Not a chance.

Those were the first words she’d spoken to me all day. She didn’t hurl a single insult or mention one word about her punishment or her ongoing deception and its discovery. I didn’t like admitting that it made me nervous to consider the calculation going on in her head. If she’d hidden the truth from us for this long, what else was she capable of?

“Alone so you can escape?” I asked. “Or do a shite job of cleaning and continue to hide behind your cover as a boy? You’re getting a bath and I’ll be the one doing the bathing.”

I hadn’t been sure I’d meant the words until I said them. I couldn’t leave her alone, but I’d been torn on the of idea involving myself directly in her scrubbing.

A fire lit behind her eyes. “You can’t clean me,” she insisted, snarling.

I shrugged. “You can’t seem to clean yourself.”

You lied to me, I reasoned. Made a fool of me. Threatened my command, my captaincy. Anyone else would do far worse.

Charlie didn’t budge.

“I would have been within my rights to lash you,” I said. “To toss you overboard.”

“Do it!” Charlie cried. “I’d rather die at sea then suffer your touch.”

“Enough,” I growled. “Strip your clothes or I’ll strip them for you.”

I was certain the little hellcat would make it as difficult for me as possible, screaming and thrashing. I readied myself for a fight I’d take pleasure in.

Perhaps she saw, and perhaps that was why Charlotte surprised me by changing course. She stripped her clothing as quickly as possible and jumped in the bath before I could get an eyeful, other than her striped rear.

I tried not to smirk. I didn’t try to stop my erection. Any pirate worth his salt knew not to fight a battle he was sure to lose.

Charlie hissed as the water hit the sore flesh of her backside. Maybe that’s why I took pity and amended, “Only your hair. You’re free to wash the rest of you. I won’t touch what’s below your neck.”

Scowling, Charlotte looked as if she’d claw my eyes out, given the chance. Instead, she gave me her back and drew her knees to her chest, hiding herself as best she could.

Using the pitcher, I poured water on her shorn hair. But when I began to wash with the soap, Charlie stiffened away, forcing me to place my hand on her neck to draw her back.

I washed Charlie’s spikey hair, again wondering what it would look like grown out, and I let my hands clean behind her ears and down her neck.

“I revile your touch,” she declared, sneering at me over her shoulder. The palpable hatred from Charlie seemed to emanate from every pore in her body. She conveyed the fury with every flash of her eyes. Every flare of her nostrils. Each angry twitch of her lips.

God, she was beautiful.

How could any of us mistake her for a boy? What a mockery she made of my leadership. Jesus, was Robert stirring up the men to vote me out as captain, even now?

The idea made me so angry I stepped away from the tub to stop myself from squeezing the very neck I washed. I’d worked so hard to secure command of The Dark Blade over Robert, and she might have stolen it all from me. A smarter captain might have given Charlotte over to the men to assuage their tempers at her ruse. Let them humiliate her for how she’d humiliated them.

Is that what you’re doing for yourself? asked a voice in my head.

As Charlie finished washing I was unsure whether I wanted to continue her degradation by making her rise from the tub to dress in front of me, or whether I needed to step away to keep myself from belting her rear all over again.

I was saved from having to make a decision by a knock from Estelle, who appeared holding the requested gown and promptly ordered me to “leave the women to their business.”

I grunted at her command, but obediently shuffled outside the door to wait.

And wait, I did. God only knew what took them so long. I had begun to worry that Charlie used her skillful tongue to convince Estelle to help her escape when the door finally opened.

A vision appeared before me, an angel. For several moments, I stood slack jawed.

Charlie wore a gown of white with tiny flowers of the palest blue. Ruffled trim hugged the outline of the dress, which hung a little loose on her slight frame. I’d briefly wondered if Estelle would produce a wig, but she’d arranged Charlie’s stubby hair with a pearled clip and silvery hair net so artfully that it almost looked as if the girl had simply swept her hair into an elegant style one might find back in London. Estelle had fastened a blue-stoned earbob to each ear and applied a rouge to Charlie’s lips and cheeks. I was sure other womanly tricks had been applied, but that was all I could discern.

Maybe I should keep her for a few more weeks, I reasoned. Or perhaps months, as she needed more filling out for dresses such as this.

Charlie wore a curious expression I couldn’t read. The way her face hid her emotions vexed me, raised my guard. Did she like such a dress or resent being stuffed into it?

Conniving minx. Stunning beauty. Liar.

Lover.

She could be. All those confusing feelings Charlie always stirred in me -- that need to protect -- could be justified.

If she didn’t hate me enough to wish my death.

Instead of paying Estelle on our way out, I instead requested yet another favor. Gossip often found its way to her home because there it found its end. Estelle knew a lot because of her very pride in keeping secrets. But I wanted Estelle to bend that honor. I wanted her to help me learn more about the pirate who killed Charlotte’s mother. I’d always wanted to solve that mystery, but now…

Now if you help her, give her something she wants, she might soften for you. Look upon you with new eyes. Eyes filled with something other than hate.

Estelle nodded once, accepting my request. The motherly way she fixed Charlie’s hairnet on her way out the door told me she agreed to help not for me, but for the girl with the shorn hair.

It was only a short walk back into town, but we made slow progress as Charlie grew accustomed to her new shoes.

We’d reached the midpoint when the world rocked, violently and completely without warning. The ground beneath our feet shook like the fires of hell were rising up to claim all that lay above it.

I’d never experienced an earthquake before but knew it at once.

I also knew this one was severe and we weren’t quite at the epicenter. But we were close, and cracks could spread in seconds.

Screams echoed from every corner of Port Royal. Not two hundred feet before us I watched one building, then another, and another, collapse to the ground. More screams of terror rang out in a chorus of horror I’d never forget.

Charlotte clung to me and I searched in desperation for somewhere to run, to keep us safe. But we were surrounded only by trees -- trees which could fall upon us and kill us at any moment.

The shaking abruptly stopped, only to begin again.

Not here, I begged a god who surely didn’t listen to men like me. Don’t let the quake spread this far inland.

With no better option, Charlie and I were forced to stay in place, and I shielded her body beneath mine. From our location, I saw the tops of buildings disappear into the ocean, which, I presumed, had already gobbled up the wharves. The blood-curdling cries came from everywhere before us as countless men and women were swept away to sea, lost to the cracks in the earth, or even crushed between the ever-changing fissures.

When the ground stopped moving, the screams continued.

But Charlotte and I were safe.

“Thank God it’s over,” she breathed, slumping like a rag doll against me. My shoulders relaxed as I exhaled as well.

It’s over.

I hadn’t realized the silence enveloping us until it broke. Below, lizards scurried past our feet, heading east. Above, birds followed suit. The hair on my neck stood on end as I worked it out.

It’s not over. The earthquake had been at sea. A tidal wave was coming.

How long? Minutes?

“Charlotte, we have to run. Now. I think a wave is coming.”

“What?” she asked, looking up at me with round, disbelieving eyes.

Shit. Which way?

If I chose incorrectly, we might die.

I grabbed Charlotte’s hand, adrenaline surging through my veins, and began pulling her toward town. “Come on. I need you to lift your skirts and run. Now.”

Charlotte pulled back. “No! The earthquake came from that direction and if all the animals are scurrying that way,” she nodded her head east, away from town, “we should too.”

I pulled her with more urgency and she stumbled after me. “Normally, yes, but there’s no high ground there,” I cried. “If the wave comes too far, we’ll get swept away. It’s a risk but we can make it back to town and onto a roof in a few minutes. Now pick up your skirts and run!”

Charlotte did the best she could with one hand while I dragged her with the other.

My men, I thought. Would they be safe?

“Faster!” I yelled. Charlotte cried out as somewhere along the way she lost her new shoes. Her feet took a beating, but better to be bruised than buried.

How long after an earthquake did it take for a tidal wave to come? If the animals were already running, it couldn’t be more than a few minutes.

“Tell no one,” I ordered when we reached the outer limits of town. “If you create a panic, I don’t know what will happen. And if there’s no room on the roof for us, we’ll be swept away in a crowded fight for space!”

Charlotte looked horrified but clamped her lips together.

To say that Port Royal suffered devastation was an understatement. Glass and other debris littered what remained; everywhere I looked people wept.

It’s about to get so much worse, I thought. But even if I shouted, who’d believe me?

I kicked open the door to the nearest tall building -- one of the countless inns -- swinging Charlie into the room with me. In the midst of chaos, no one was shocked by our entrance until I shouted, “Everyone needs to get to the roof, now! A tidal wave is coming and if we don’t reach high ground in the next few minutes, we’ll all be swept away.”

Three or four minutes must have already passed. We’d been lucky to remain safe this long.

At the pause of surprise, I shouted, “I said now! What’s the quickest way to the roof?”

A smart young woman called out, “This way. Follow me.”

Anyone with any sense ran behind the girl as she guided a group of five of us into another room and up three flights of stairs. When we reached the top, the woman threw open a window and cried, “From here, we climb.”

I watched as she scooted onto the ledge and disappeared upwards. Then I poked my head out the window to see it was a short climb onto the roof, but one in which Charlie would need help, especially in bare feet.

“I’ll go first and pull you up,” I told her. Panic-stricken, she only nodded.

Once I’d made it to the roof, I laid flat and reached down.

“Take my hands,” I commanded.

Charlie hesitated. In mere seconds that seemed to last for minutes, she didn’t move. Was she considering running away? Choosing to die?

“Hurry up!” a man behind her yelled, jarring Charlie to action and my heart to start beating again. She clasped my hands and I dragged her onto the roof as carefully as I could. Turning, I blinked with disbelief to see half of Port Royal had already sunk into the ocean. It was just gone.

We hadn’t even processed our shock when we heard the screams.

The wave was coming.

The sea had pulled back and a horrifyingly large wave flew at rapid speed toward Port Royal. Beside me, Charlie gasped and turned as pale as death. The others on the roof with us made signs of the cross over their bodies. One man fell to his knees to pray.

My men, I thought again. Were they safe? Would I lose them? How many?

But there was nothing I could do to help them now.

“It’s going to hit us,” I calculated, searching desperately for something to hold onto. The best option -- the brick chimney, was constructed too poorly to be reliable.

“Get down!” I commanded Charlie, flattening us to the roof and holding onto a beam by the edge.

Charlie was shaking as she clung to me, buried half-beneath me. Everyone screamed and wept, but she didn’t say a word.

I’m not letting you go.

“Hold on tight!” I yelled, gripping the beam until my knuckles turned white. “When the wave comes, it will push us and continue to push us. Even after the initial hit, water will surge and try to rip us apart. You must hold onto me, Charlie, don’t let go!”

I felt her tighten her grip around me and looked down to see the blood still drained from her face. I hoped she didn’t swoon; I needed her to hold on.

The screams from below us rose higher.

“It’s coming!” I called. “Hold tight.”

I heard the wave rush closer, heard the first contact with land --

-- and then it slammed into our building.

Our saving graces were that we were both far back and high enough that the wave only blasted through to the top floors, breaking glass and sweeping away anyone beneath us. The building held through the initial surge, but more water swelled and instantly enveloped us; fierce currents tossing the other rooftop refugees about like rubbish thrown overboard.

Hold tight, I wanted to scream to Charlie as waves crashed over our heads. Hold tight to me. But I couldn’t scream and could barely hold on. We sputtered water and clung to each other as the waves continued to rush. Something hard smacked my leg and I prayed it hadn’t hit hers too.

For several minutes we gasped like that, fighting for air and to stay atop the roof as relentless wave after wave did its best to rip us apart and toss us off the building.

Finally, the water level sank, dipping beneath the roof and back to the second or third story of the building.

I stood, helping Charlie find her balance on shaking legs.

The water continued to recede, but the devastation all around us was unimaginable.

The earthquake had caused the majority, sinking half of Port Royal into the ocean, but it was as if that wasn’t enough for the hungry seas. The wave came as a final sweep, clearing out whatever it could within its angry path.

Only two others remained on the roof with us. The rest had been swept away, though I couldn’t say if they were alive or dead. When the water dispersed enough, we made our way back to the ground floor in stunned silence.

I half-carried Charlie, who’d lost her shoes to the sea. And her hairnet and each of the ear bobs. Her dress was torn and filthy. All the hard work from Estelle had been spoiled within minutes. It was as if the world had refused Charlie’s gown, her appearance as a lady, and shoved her back with the likes of us.

Even in the wake of devastation, some looked to profit. Whether it be the finest city in the world or the most infamous, like this one, that could always be counted upon.

I spied a man with a horse, selling it at an exorbitant price, and I paid him.

“Wait,” Charlie protested. “We have to help.”

I shook my head. “My obligation is first to my crew and you’re in no position to help anyone in your condition.”

“These people are innocent,” Charlie said, holding my eyes. “You’re nothing but pirates.”

“There are many innocent here, aye, children and more -- but if you think this town doesn’t live up to its name you’re more naïve than I imagined,” I said. “Anyone you’d help has more chance of being a scoundrel than a saint.”

Charlie scowled, some of her old spirit coming back as the shock abated.

“And you can barely stand,” I pointed out, “let alone walk. Now we’re returning to my men and I don’t want to hear another word of protest. Or you can imagine what I’ll do to you later.”

I mounted the horse and Charlotte begrudgingly climbed up behind me, wincing as she put more weight on one lacerated foot. She hiked her tattered skirts up to her knees as she sat. No one noticed the impropriety with all the destruction around us.

With my heart in my throat, I rode as fast as I dared. My men and I had faced so many battles together, but this was different. It was as if God struck his hand down to spite our sinful city, and I knew that was exactly what the preachers would preach.

Conks, Johnson, Miguel, Maurice… even Robert, I thought. You may be my rival but you are like a brother. Maurice raised us as such.

When we crested the hill, I exhaled at the sight of my undamaged ship, floating in the protected inlet, away from the epicenter of the surge. I may have even thanked Charlie’s vengeful god.

She’s safe. The Dark Blade is safe. Hopefully, the men aboard fared as well.

Conks was the first to greet me when we reached my ship, clapping my back as he gave me a tight hug. “We’re all accounted for,” he said, before I could even ask the question. Maurice, usually sparse in giving affection, also wrapped me in a rare, fatherly-style hug.

“What’s it like down there?” Conks asked. “How bad is it?” But before I could answer, Robert pushed his way to the front.

“I told you women are bad luck,” he said, sneering. “If it weren’t for her, we wouldn’t even be here today.”

“We needed to come to port anyway,” Johnson argued. “If it weren’t for her, we would have docked at the wharf and we’d be as good as dead with the rest of them.”

The men murmured, divided.

It took some time and more than a little fast-talking on my part, but I managed to convince the crew that Charlie’s presence was our salvation, the one thing that had kept us all alive. Putting it to vote, the men agreed that she could remain aboard, and a fair half did so with gratitude over resentment.

Charlie remained indignant, viewing herself as my captive -- an attitude that didn’t improve over the course of the next few weeks, which seamlessly turned into months.

It might not have helped that whenever she stepped out of line, I threatened to put her back over my knee.

And occasionally… I did.

It was never as harsh as the first time. For starters, I didn’t use my belt and I didn’t bare her bottom.

If I thought she’d be grateful for the mercy, she quickly disabused me of that notion. It riled her all the more that I did not treat her as I did the men.

“You think you’re an exemption from the rules?” I’d ask her. “That you’re allowed insubordination and to not expect punishment for it like any other man in this crew?”

“Then punish me like a man,” she’d insist. “I want the mast!”

“No.”

Dock my wages, she’d protest. Assign me an extra shift. Throw me in the brig.I’d rather the lash than your hand.

As if I’d mar her skin. But I took her over my knee. Knowing it made her hate me more didn’t stop me. She has the power to stop it herself if she would just be less obstinate, I reasoned. It’s almost like she seeks it, then hates me for it.

In the passing months, Charlie’s hair grew below her ears. Only once had she threatened to cut it and I’d threatened to belt her. She’d put down her dagger at my words, declared her hate for the thousandth time, and stormed off sulking.

The men who’d agreed to her presence aboard the ship grew to tolerate Charlie, and some to even like her. She was quick, clever, and never grumbled about her work. She even won over those men whose minds hadn’t yet been made.

But the few that held to Robert’s side grew to resent her all the more.

I decided I’d improve Charlie’s usefulness by teaching her to read. And then, when I’d better prepared her for a life outside our ship, somewhere back in the Carolinas perhaps… then I’d let her go.

I couldn’t release her to the world ignorant of even the basic ability to read a sign, I reasoned.

Yes, I’d let her go as soon as soon as we developed her reading skills.

Just a few more weeks. Or months.