Fanny (66 page)

“Then why do you continue in this Pyrate Round?” I wisht to know, for I had Visions of retiring upon Lancelot’s Gold and devoting myself to Poetry and Belinda—when Lancelot should help me find her!

“To keep a Promise to meself which I had made when I was Surgeon on a Slaver, an’ free me darker Brothers. Fer this, as well, Horatio goes on, tho’ we could all retire an’ live in Peace.”

“’Tis true,” Horatio said, putting his Arm ’round Lancelot’s Shoulder. “We sail for Principle, not Prizes now.”

“And where would you retire and live in Peace with all these Crimes upon your Head?”

“Aye,” sigh’d Lancelot, “’Tis a Problem, Lass, an’ thus I still would found a
Libertalia—
but where, I cannot tell. Gold an’ Jewels aplenty, that we have, an’ yet are we hunted ev’rywhere, on Land an’ Sea. Thus sail we must, fer there is scarce a Port where we may dock securely. I have e’en dreamt o’ some Isle in the Caribees, a Tropick Key where we might make a Home, an Isle set in a beauteous Azure Sea, with Birds whose Feathers are the Colour o’ rare Jewels, an’ plentiful Springs o’ fresh Water. O I dream o’ such an Isle with Strands as white as Ivory an’ Sunsets rosy as the Inside o’ Shells! If God please, we’ll find yer Babe an’ settle on some sunny Isle set in the iridescent Tropick Sea. An’ she shall play with Rubies and sprinkle Emeralds about her baby Toes and prattle to Diamonds big as Pigeons’ Eggs, whilst we three live an’ love an’ prove to God that Men can live as Brothers—e’en when they both are doom’d to love the self-same Wench!”

We three lookt at each other warily and then laugh’d, wond’ring how this beauteous blissful Dream would come to Grief.

CHAPTER XIII

In which our Heroine well and truly learns the Pyrate’s Craft, discovers the Joys of Sailing (as she hath previously known only the Pains), whereupon our valiant Pyrates meet their Match upon the Seas, and we disprove that old Maxim, namely: “Man cannot be rap’d.”

T
HUS OUR MIGHTY PYRATE
Flotilla set sail across the South Atlantick (as soon as we had captur’d sufficient Provisions from outbound Slavers and liberated their Slaves to sail with us). It proving impossible to repair the
Hopewell
’s Rigging without putting into some friendly Anchorage, we captur’d another Ship instead, a broad-beam’d English Flute call’d the
Speedy Return
, and sank the
Hopewell
without further Ado. ’Twas not until I watch’d that Brigantine go down in the African Waters that I remember’d my Romance—my Tale of Philidore and Clotilda—lying in one of Captain Whitehead’s Lockers, now at the Bottom of the Sea! I had sav’d Dennison’s Book at the Expence of my own! O for a Time I thought that augur’d ill for my intended Career as an Author. My Epick lost at a Coaching Inn! My Juvenilia lost I knew not where! My Romance lost at Sea! How would I e’er become the Bard I wisht to be if I kept losing my Life’s Work so carelessly? Yet perhaps ev’ry Author must serve an Apprenticeship, and perhaps indeed ’tis better that no other Eyes than hers behold the puny Fruits of that Apprenticeship, and no other Lips savour their insufficient Juice. I meditate so now, yet
then
I was Heart-broken o’er the Loss of my Work. It seem’d I’d ne’er find Time to write again and I was quite distraught by my own Foolhardiness in losing my Romance to the Immensity of the Sea. Go little Book, thought I, and feed the Fishes, if they care to eat Words instead of more substantial Food. Ah what Vanity are our Dreams of Immortality thro’ Books! I’faith,
most
Books perish thus, e’en those that languish in a dusty Bookseller’s Stall in St. Paul’s Churchyard; and those that win great Fame oft’ perish thus as well, after a Time. Yet there was a Part of me that saw this Loss of my Romance as an Off’ring to propitiate the Favour of the Fates and bring Belinda safe into my Arms. Alas, ’tis true, I fear, that a Woman ne’er can write a Book without balancing betwixt that Book and a Baby.

Our Pyrate Flotilla now consisted of four Ships: our Flag Ship, the
Happy Delivery
, a Brigantine whose Hold was heavy with the Moguls’ Gold and Jewels; the
Bijoux
, a swift Sloop; the
Willing Mind
, a Merchantman and captur’d Slaver; and the
Speedy Return
, the aforemention’d English Flute, built after a Dutch Design. ’Twas she who was the Slave Ship we had captur’d to replace the
Hopewell
, tho’ she was, alas, a slow and pond’rous Sailor. But Pyrates cannot always be particular when they require a Ship.

Four Ships barely met our Needs, since we were o’er-supplied with Men. Most Pyrate Ships are cramm’d with Pyrates—hence their Prowess, so Horatio said, in fright’ning off their Prey. But, with all the liberated Slaves, we had near four hundred Men now, and the Holds of our Ships, except the first, were cramm’d with Straw Pallets for ’em to sleep upon, as well as swaying Hammocks hanging from the Beams, as in the King’s Navy.

Lancelot, Horatio, and I sail’d aboard the Flag Ship; Deputy Captains and First Mates were elected to sail the
Bijoux
,
Willing Mind
, and
Speedy Return.
The
Happy Delivery
led the other Ships, but how long we would stay together on the Storm-toss’d Seas, and with such unruly Men, was anyone’s Guess.

I spent my Shipboard Days learning the Pyrate’s Craft. Horatio taught me Swordsmanship, the Use of Grappling Hooks and Boarding Axes, whilst Lancelot taught me to play Helmsman as well as Reefing, Hauling, and Keeping the Watch. ’Twas Lancelot’s firm Belief that no one aboard a Ship should be innocent of any Seaman’s Task, for you ne’er knew, said he, when you might sail alone or be shipwreckt upon a Desert Isle.

O the Use of Cutlass I ne’er took to with great Gusto—tho’ I became proficient at my Self-Defence—nor did I love to reef the Sails, tho’ I did it with a willing enough Mind. But Steering the Ship I lov’d! For as I stood at the Helm, watching the blue Sea rise upon either side, watching for Squalls upon the Surface of the Deep, and surveying the Clouds for Rain, I felt like Columbus himself discovering the New World, or like a Pyrate Queen of all the Seas, piloting my Destiny!

O what a Diff’rence from the Days I cower’d in Whitehead’s Cabin as a Slave! Now I was Mistress of the Seas, canny about the Weather, knowledgable concerning Wind and Cloud and beginning to feel myself at one with this Alien Element, the Sea. I grew to love my Shipboard Life apace. ’Twas true that Rations were not as short upon Lancelot’s Ships as upon Whitehead’s, and I was treated with great Deference by the Crew—both at Lancelot’s and Horatio’s Commands (and due to my own Prowess in learning all the Crafts of Pyracy so quickly and so well). But ’twas something more: my Spirit seem’d to soar at Sea. Each Night brought rapturous Dreams as I was rockt in the Cradle of the Deep, and I came to love the Water lapping at the Hull, the Gentleness of Sleep at Sea, and all the Sounds of Wind thro’ the Sails.

When our Ships were borne along by Trade Winds in the South Atlantick and the Sails requir’d little Trimming, Sailing was a Joy! Harmony reign’d betwixt Man and the Elements, and a Ship seem’d the Perfect Craft, design’d to bend the Forces of Nature to Man’s Will. But when the Wind freshen’d suddenly and Squalls o’ercame us in a trice, Nature herself turn’d from Helpmeet to Harridan and Harmony turn’d to Horror! O what Panick suffus’d our Hearts as we scurried up the Masts to take in the Sails lest we heel o’er into the Drink! I learnt to be as nimble in clambering up a Mast barefoot as any Common Tar, but ne’er did I do so without a Pounding in my Breast that seem’d to say:
Turn back, turn back, this is no Task for the Fair!
Yet I still’d those Voices and continu’d just the same, for I had Contempt for Womanish Fears and fancied myself neither Man nor Woman but a Combination of the noblest Qualities of the twain! Always in my Life have I sought to press myself to do the Things I’ve fear’d the most; for only when one snatches Fear by the Scruff of its Neck and proclaims oneself its Mistress, doth one live Life to the fullest. The Squall would pass, the Wind be fair again, and I would scramble down the Mast, breathing a Sigh of deep Relief whilst all the Tars and I drank Toasts in Grog to Fairer Winds to come.

From the Lookout on the Mainmast, one could see twenty Miles in each Direction; thus on a clear Day ’twas possible to spy likely Prizes, and with a Fair Wind, give Chase. Most Merchantmen were ill-equipp’d for Combat and well-nigh helpless to our howling Hordes of Pyrates.

Whilst still a Distance from the Prey, we’d hoist a Flag of her own Country to throw her off her Guard; only when we were quite close would we hoist our Pyrate Flags to terrify. Likewise we had various Flags to communicate betwixt our various Ships, whereupon each Deputy Skipper was to take a Vote amongst the Men to determine whether we should chase a Prize or not. ’Twas common Pyrate Lore that the most heavily loaden Merchantmen were oft’ the least heavily arm’d, for the Hold was us’d for Cargo rather than Ammunition. Frequently these Ships had Gunports painted on their Sides to give the false Appearance of great Force of Arms, but an old Salt, canny with a Spying-Glass, could tell the Diff’rence betwixt these painted Gunports and the real Things. The Wind being favourable, and the Vote being favourable, we’d give Chase, each of our four Ships knowing that the first Man on board receiv’d a double Share of Booty. Thus we were racing each other e’en as we pursu’d the Prey, which gave the Taking of a Prize an added Hint of Sport!

The first Ship to reach the Prey attackt in the Time-honour’d Pyrate Fashion, invented, so Horatio said, by the Buccaneers, or Brethren of the Coast. We’d scarce fire Cannon, lest we sink a fair Prize with all her Booty, but rather we would seek to board her from the Bowsprit—oft’ without a single Broadside being fir’d. How Ships surrender’d when they saw our Pyrate Colours! ’Twas comical almost. I scarce would have credited Horatio’s Tales had I not seen it with my own Eyes! Ship after Ship surrender’d to our Pyrate Flotilla, usually with less Damage to our own Vessels than that wrought by tiny Shipworms. So ’tis frequently the case that the smallest and most invisible Enemy inflicts the greatest Damage, whilst the largest Enemy may be fell’d, like Goliath, with a tiny Sling.

Musicians we had to play the Fife and Drums and Trumpets with War-like Menace, whilst the most skillful of the Pyrates vapour’d ’round the Decks, growling like Lunaticks and baring their Teeth in a fev’rish Display of false Ferocity! Costume was oft’ resorted to as well, the most fearsome Pyrates dressing themselves in Savage Colours and wearing their Hair and Beards most horribly unkempt. ’Twas simple to look fearsome, for, i’faith, these Pyrates scarce had bath’d in sev’ral Years, and sure they ne’er once shav’d off any Hair that might affright the Prey! Their Teeth were rotten from their Lives at Sea, their Faces oft’ were scarr’d, their Noses broke, and many had but half an Ear remaining! I lookt quite ill myself with my shorn Locks standing up as straight as Stubble in a Cornfield; and when I dress’d
en Homme
, I could pass—to unknowing Eyes—as any Pyrate, despite the Largeness of my Breasts, which I took care to bind ’neath my Coat.

In my Heart, I nourish’d the daft Dream that we would sight
Cassandra
in those Waters and take Belinda as our Pyrate Prize; to that End I forced myself to climb the one-hundred-foot Mast and spy the Seas with Lancelot’s Spying-Glass. ’Twas a perilous Climb upon a rocking Sea (e’en on dry Land, ’twould be most perilous!) and my Head cower’d e’en as my Heart demanded it. But what is Motherhood if not a Course in Courage? And what are Children but the Means by which we leave our own Childhoods far behind? In your sweet Name, Belinda, I was pusht to Feats that ne’er before or since have I done.

Alas, I did not sight
Cassandra
, tho’ I
did
sight other fair Prizes and won the Choyce of Weapons for it, too. I sighted the
King Solomon
, an English Snow, and the
Guarda del Costa
, a Spanish Merchantman. And I was the first to board the
Guarda
, too!

O I remember that Engagement as if ’twere Yesterday! Lancelot sat back and let me play the Skipper upon that Occasion, for he was growing e’er more proud of my Pyrate Prowess and he delighted in watching me command our Ship.

“Is all ready?” I enquir’d as we gather’d on the
Guarda.

“Yea,” cried the Men.

“Every Man to his Charge!” I shouted, watching the Helmsman with a practis’d Eye.

“Keep her steady,” I commanded.

“Aye, aye,” said the Helmsman.

The
Guarda
struck her Flag and Pennant and Streamers; we likewise struck a Spanish Flag to confuse her.

“Dowse your Topsail and salute her!” I cried. ’Twas done; the Spanish Ship was hail’d. Only when we were so close that we could almost shout to the
Guarda
did we strike our Pyrate Colours.

“Whence your Ship?” the Master of the
Guarda
askt in Terror, for he knew the Answer.

“From the Seas!” I cried.

The
Guarda
was so surpriz’d by us that she kept her Luff whilst we were making ready to tack about. We approach’d Bow-on with Noise of Fife and Drum and Trumpet and Vapouring Pyrates making horrid Faces on the Fo’c’sle Deck, sticking out their Tongues at the affrighted Spanish Tars and growling like Beasts of the Wild! When we drew close enough, I climb’d out on the Bowsprit and leapt across to board the
Guarda
ere a single Broadside could be fir’d. Whilst I did so, our three other Ships tackt about as well, quite surrounding our Prize, with Cannon at the ready, and the howling Hordes Vapouring upon
their
Decks! ’Twas all that easy; we so swiftly boarded the Spanish Prize that she had no Chance at Self-Defence. The Captain might put up a brief Display of Force, but the Tars would likely not, so abus’d were they.

During the Engagement with the
Guarda,
as during many others, I workt with Horatio as my Mate—and dress’d as gaudily as he himself. I wore a Full-bottom’d Wig, to cover my Stubble, a Hat with a red Feather, and a damask Waistcoat. I’d e’en devis’d Moustaches for myself to cover my womanish Lips. Horatio would follow me across the Bowsprit, and as we boarded the Prize we’d shout in Latin to affright our Prey. To these poor Sea-Dogs, it seem’d a most curious Tongue and it confus’d ’em utterly. They’d ne’er heard its like except in Church, and the Things we shouted were most unliturgical! (Thus doth e’en Book-learning have its practical Use!)