Page 8 of Scourge of the Shores
Frank grunted in reply before shouting out, “Load the guns.”
Otto and Larc readied the rowboat while the other Pirate Kings’ ships did the same. Soon, four Pirate Kings stood in rowboats, hand on flintlock, awaiting any signal Captain Jaymes might give as his small crew rowed him to shore.
Robert jumped out of the rowboat, and water splashed over his boots. A woman with ebony hair whipping in the wind stood at the top of the shoreline, built up with rocks. Her arms crossed, and her penetrating stare put a hole through him.
She glanced behind him out to the sea.
Ample hips and a narrow waist caught his attention first. A sheathed dagger with a “C” symbol etched in the handle and two flintlock pistols with silver scrolling adorned her belt. He wondered if she was a leader, as the other men and women stood behind her. Sweat beaded her brow in a glistening crown and glinted down into her generous bosom. The dull white of her shirt emphasized the healing blood-red gash on her full bottom lip. She was the epitome of beauty and carnage. A fluttering in his belly moved up and caught hold of his throat.
With a flat hand, he subconsciously smoothed his sea coat to present himself in the best light. The right words to greet such a woman fled from his tongue. He swallowed and cleared his throat. When her brow furrowed at his silence, he finally forced out, “Ahoy, lass.”
Robert thinned his lips at the horrible introduction while waving his arm to showcase the weaponry sheathed on his belt, indicating that his presence there was harmless.
“State yer purpose,” she said with no greeting or kindness.
He stopped with his arm outstretched at the beauty’s rudeness. He let his arm drop as he scanned the others at the shore. Their shirts were bloodied, and all were rather gangly. His gaze shifted back to the woman. He hadn’t noticed before, but her cheeks were too thin, and dark circles lived under her eyes, especially for a woman who appeared as young or younger than he was. An instant desire to know what had happened on this island and who this woman was rushed over him.
He stood up straight and cuffed his hand on his coat’s lapel.
“I am Captain Jaymes of the Pirate Kings of the North Sea. Our ships took damage in a storm.” Robert paused, getting right to the point. “Might we stay and barter for supplies to repair them?”
“We ain’t a charity island,” the woman said. Her firm voice cut through the sea breeze in clear precision. Her shining sea-blue eyes shone in the sun and captured his gaze. “We be the descendants of former Pirate Kings who live here in peace.”
Robert scoffed as she said “peace” with a busted lip and a gang of bruised scalawags behind her.
Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw grew taut.
Respectful, Robert, he told himself. He stilled his form and relaxed his mouth while she continued speaking.
“Strangers ain’t welcome ‘less they stay. Move along with yer business.”
He took off his hat to hold it over his belly, signaling to the other nine Pirate Kings that there could be trouble. A woman who refused to help the Pirate Kings was either a fool or ignorant of their reputation. The ordeal that gave her the bloody lip may have caused her to lose her common sense.
“Lass,” he said with a smile and a dip of his chin, giving her a second chance.
“Don’t. Lass. Me,” the woman growled.
He almost took a step back. The unexpected response intrigued him. Who was this woman? Why did it look like she had just won a fight, and how did she have the audacity to stand up to him?
He readjusted his posture upon unsteady knees as they adapted to the stability of the land.
“Matey, then?” His eyebrows rose as he offered the title. She remained silent, so he thought it acceptable and continued. “What harm is there in trading supplies with a few weary Pirate Kings?” He emphasized “Kings” with a show of his open palm so he wouldn’t have to kill these people for disrespecting pirate royalty.
She was quick with her reply. “What if yer enemies learn of our tradin’, and they take revenge on us? We be a sanctuary, neutral, and have no stake in the world of piracy.”
He shook his head at the ridiculousness of turning down the Pirate Kings of the North Sea. He hid a laugh. “We promise not to tell of your little island.”
“Only dead men can make that promise, Captain.” She dropped her hands to her flintlocks on her belt. “Now, I suggest ye return to yer rowboat and leave.”
Robert swooped his hat back on his head. Her audacity meant she was either too young to realize what she had done, or she did not care. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. She was full of life and vigor; her manners and actions, as well as the older men in the back who were letting her speak, meant she had aged well beyond her physical years.
His father would have already mowed these people down in an array of bullets and cannon fire, but there was something about her black hair flitting in the wind while wisps matted to the sides of her face in a sweaty paste that made him pause. She commanded herself like pirate royalty. His fingers flickered by his side, debating whether to place his hand on his belt, the signal to blow the islanders down.
“What if we just anchor over there where it appears uninhabited?” He pointed with a lobbed finger to the island’s east side, offering one last compromise. “What if we cut our own wood, make our tar and pitch, and then be on our way?”
She shifted her weight as if weighing the consequences of her pending decision. Her thick tongue licked the gash on her lip before curling back inside her mouth. She nodded in the same direction he pointed. “Fine. Off ye go. But Captain Jaymes, if ye so much as step a dirty boot on our shores, I’ll take a knife to ye meself.”
His eyes grew wide as a smug smile fell upon his lips. “Of course, matey.” He turned to go, but he couldn’t resist her powerful, arrogant allure. “May I have the name of the woman who grants us this passage? If there is any trouble during our brief stay, I may need to call on you.”
