Scarlett Read online

  “I killed every officer on that ship in revenge and from now on, whenever we get in a fight, I will wear this to remind all of you that if you cross me, I will gut you like this pig,” she cried, pointing her sword at the cooling corpse.

  “These ships will soon have a reputation to challenge any other privateer or buccaneer on the Spanish Main, and they will tremble when they hear my name. You will get rich and be the envy of every man who stayed at home.”

  She held on to a stay and swung around so that she looked at every man.

  “ARE YOU WITH ME?”

  “AYE, AYE!” they cried in response and set up a general cheering that Françoise could hear on the Merlin a cable behind.

  “That made an impression,” Steven told her as they sat drinking a glass of wine in her cabin.

  “I was inspired,” she replied, looking out the stern windows with a slightly thoughtful expression.

  “Did you have to kill him?”

  She looked at him then stood up to walk to her desk. She turned and explained,

  “The men that have sailed with us before know what I can do, but the new men think that they are just telling tales when they hear the stories.”

  “Yes, but once they see you in action against a prize, they will know differently,” Steven replied.

  Scarlett shook her head. “If they have any doubt about following me when we get into our first real fight then we will lose or at the least not win as easy as we should. Now, can you find me a man that has some tailoring and leatherworking experience?”

  Steven took that as a dismissal and left after draining his glass.

  They were coming up on the thirty-seventh degree of latitude and were preparing to pick up the trades. They didn’t plan to stop at either the Canaries or Madeira because there was still plenty of small beer and the water was only two weeks in the barrel and still potable. They were eating the last of the fresh food and would soon move over to salt beef and ship’s biscuit, of which there was plenty.

  Scarlett invited the ships barber/surgeon to her cabin and asked him for a report on the health of the men. Smoker searched and found a man that was unusually sober for a surgeon.

  “Master Barbor, good-day,” Scarlett greeted him. “I hope you are finding the voyage to your liking?” She waved him to a seat

  “Ay, I am that miss,” he grinned and dropped his fifteen stone five-foot two frame into a chair. He was an accredited member of the Company of Barbers and Surgeons, which meant he had completed a seven-year apprenticeship and demonstrated his skills to Company appointed examiners. He served on an East India ship and was a follower of John Woodall, the Company’s Surgeon General.

  “We will be running out of fresh food soon. Is there anywhere we can stop and replenish, especially with vegetables?” he asked.

  “Why? We have enough food to last us until Jamaica,” Scarlett responded.

  “The men will not stay healthy for long on the preserved stores. Salt beef and biscuit fills them up, but unless they get fresh food, scurvy will set in.”

  Scarlett was about to interject, but Edwin held up his hand to forestall her,

  “Francis Drake sailed around the world and only lost three men to disease because he took every opportunity to take on fresh greens. Woodall has written that the consumption of fresh fruit and vegetables is conducive to a healthy crew, and I believe he is right.”

  “You are a scholar, Master Barbor?”

  “If you mean, can I read. Yes,” he replied and looked pointedly at the tantalus which held brandy and gin that sat on her sideboard.

  She smiled, unlocked it, poured a man-sized glass of brandy, passed it to him, and sat down again.

  He took an appreciative sniff then a sip, which he swirled around in his mouth before swallowing.

  “Look lass, we don’t know why it helps prevent scurvy, but we know that it does from trials Woodall performed.”

  “So, you are telling me we should somehow find a way to restock our fresh.”

  “That I am,” he said, looking pleased she understood.

  Scarlett stood, went to the door, and shouted for Steven and Daniel to join them, then she sat on the edge of her desk and waited.

  Her first mate and master came in together, looking curiously at the surgeon.

  “Master Barbor insists that we should try and replenish our fresh food,” Scarlett told them.

  “At the least get fresh fruit, fruit juice, and greens,” Barbor clarified.

  “Well, the only place around this piece of ocean we can pull into is Funchal, which is West of us,” Daniel stated, then asked, “is this really necessary?”

  “If you want to keep the crew healthy, yes. Otherwise, if anything goes wrong on the crossing, we arrive with a scurvy crew.” He looked them over. “Have you ever seen the results of scurvy?” Both men confirmed they had seen it but Scarlett never had. “Let me try and describe it: first of all, the men will get lethargic, feel weak, and get pains in their arms and legs. Later, their gums start to rot and their teeth fall out. Old wounds open up and new ones won’t heal. They bleed through their skin, and if it carries on, they die.”

  Scarlett shuddered at the image.

  “Well, I’ve never heard this before,” Daniel stated with a sceptical look on his face.

  Steven looked more thoughtful than sceptical and put his opinion forward, albeit cautiously,

  “If there is a chance we can avoid the men getting sick, we should take it. We will have enough trouble with fever once we get to Jamaica without them getting sick on the way over.”

  “Then plot us a course to Funchal. We are going shopping,” Scarlett smiled, deciding she didn’t want that on her ship.

  Daniel shrugged. He knew when to fight his battles, and while sceptical, he wasn’t about to resist when he was out voted three to one. Besides the scars from the last time he defied Scarlett still itched and he had no desire to see them burst open again.

  They spotted the island of Madera the next afternoon. Funchal was on its South side and had a good deep-water harbour. The Portuguese flag flew over the defensive fortifications as they had shaken off Spanish rule back in 1641. It was a welcomed sight. As they approached, they drew the attention of the defenders, and a cannon spoke.

  “Touchy, aren’t they?” Scarlett asked as they backed the foresail and came gently to a halt.

  “Been hit too many times by the Spanish and Corsairs,” Daniel replied as he watched for a guard boat or pilot to come out.

  Scarlett looked over her shoulder at the British Union flag that fluttered from a pole at their stern, you can’t be too careful, she thought

  “Boat approaching,” Daniel said, startling her out of her reverie.

  “Run out the side ropes! Prepare to accept a visitor,” Steven called from somewhere near the entry port.

  The boat, a six oared cutter, had a civilian sitting in the stern wearing a broad brimmed hat. It quickly pulled up at the side, hooked onto the chains, and the hat appeared over the side.

  “Who is the capitan?” he asked as he stepped onto the deck.

  Scarlett stepped forward and looked the man over before answering. He was as tall as she was with suntanned brown skin that carried the signs that he had survived the pox. Piercing blue eyes sat astride an eagle’s beak of a nose. She was aware he was returning the complement.

  “I am the captain of this ship,” she announced.

  He looked surprised, and his eyes shifted to Daniel and Steven, who stood to her right. He received nods from the two men, who were amused at his surprise.

  He recovered quickly and gave her a florid bow, sweeping his hat off in the process, revealing a thin spot on the top of an otherwise luxuriant head of hair tied back in a ponytail.

  “Madam Capitan, my name is Joseph Ferreiro and I am one of the official pilots for the harbour here at Funchal. If you want to berth here, I must first see your papers.”

  Scarlett led him down to her cabin and bent over her desk to
get the papers and felt a hand caressing her buttock. She reached into the drawer and turned slowly around to face Ferreiro, who was standing only inches from her. She smiled and held up the papers in her left hand. Ferreiro gave her a greasy grin and leaned even closer as he took them. He stopped when he felt the cold hard muzzle of a pistol pressed into his groin. His eyes widened as there was the click of the hammer being pulled back to full cock.

  Scarlett’s smile became even sweeter as he stepped back and looked down at the ugly, black-barrelled pistol pointing at his manhood.

  “Let’s get this relationship on the right footing,” Scarlett purred. “You keep your hands to yourself and stay at a respectful distance and I won’t shoot your balls off.”

  To give the man his due, he stood straight, regaining his dignity as he stepped back and sketched a bow.

  “My apologies, Captain, a misunderstanding.”

  The pistol was lowered but the hammer was not returned to half cock.

  He read the papers, noting the letter of marque.

  “You are privateers?” he asked.

  “That’s what it says,” Scarlett responded, getting impatient with the time he was taking.

  Ferreiro sensed he had outstayed his welcome, returned the papers, and announced,

  “Your papers are in order. I can take you into the harbour, for the usual fee.”

  Scarlett expected that and had already asked Daniel what she should pay. She tossed Ferriero the pouch she had prepared earlier. He hefted it and nodded, so she took him back onto deck where Steven and Daniel both raised an eyebrow at the sight of the pistol.

  “Please raise a red and white pennant,” Ferreiro requested and pointed to one of the flags in their signal locker, “that shows you are under a pilot and I am happy with your papers.”

  The pennant was run up and the flag on the fortress dipped in acknowledgment. Ferreiro directed them to a pair of moorings under the guns of the newly built fortress of São Tiago.

  “Mister Barbor, would you please be kind enough to accompany our first mate and a few hands to buy the fresh vegetables and fruit that you think we need.” She handed Steven a pouch of coins. “Bring them back sober,” she instructed, nodding to the team he assembled.

  “Yes maam.” Steven grinned and tugged his forelock.

  Scarlett stuck her tongue out at him and went to the rail where she could look across at the Merlin.

  “Meet me on shore!” she called across to Françoise then ran to drop into the boat before it left.

  “Thought you weren’t coming shopping?” Steven asked as she settled beside him in the stern.

  “I just said I wasn’t going shopping with you!” she replied with a smirk.

  Scarlett waited on the dock and looked around. She wore a long, deep green skirt with petticoats, a white blouse, and a green jacket that did nothing to hide the pistols, dagger, and sword that she had on a belt around her slim waist. She wore no hat, and the breeze blew her hair out to form a frame around her face. She looked damn good and she knew it.

  She got a few ribald suggestions from passing seamen, but she ignored them. Her hand was, however, never far from her sword hilt.

  She breathed in the scent of the island, a mixture of flowers and herbs underlying the smell of humanity, but it smelt better than the ship and a hell of a lot better than many towns she had visited.

  Françoise arrived in his smallest ship’s boat with just a pair of oarsmen who went straight back to the Merlin as soon as he stepped up onto the dock.

  “Bonjour, Scarlett,” he greeted her with a bow.

  “Hello, will you walk with me?” Scarlett replied.

  He offered her his arm and they strolled off towards the town.

  Scarlett told him about what Barbor said about fresh veg and fruit preventing scurvy. Françoise neither agreed nor disagreed, he just replied,

  “There is much we don’t know, but I do know that scurvy is a terrible thing and can take the fittest sailor and bring him down. Anything that might help is worth trying. But you didn’t ask me to accompany you to tell me that.”

  She laughed gaily and replied,

  “I thought it was a good opportunity to get to know each other,”

  “Oh, and the crewman following us?” he replied.

  Scarlett was surprised and looked back to see one of Smoker’s smugglers, Paul Horscraft, following a discreet distance behind.

  “My father has a long arm,” she frowned in annoyance then smiled and carried on walking, putting their escort out of her mind. She led him to a leather shop and had him help her select a sheet of supple, yet strong calves hide, a couple of yards of leather thong, and some buckles. When he asked what it was for, she just replied,

  “You’ll see.”

  She also bought a broad leather belt decorated with carved scrolls and studs that was broader at the back than the front.

  They moved on to a haberdasher that also sold cloth and selected some teal green satin, complementary buttons and thread.

  Scarlett looked at the growing pile of purchases and walked to the door.

  “Paul, come here! If you are going to follow me around, you just as well be useful,” she shouted to the startled sailor who stood across the street.

  She loaded him up with the packages, and taking Françoise by the arm, set off down the street to the sound of muttered complaints from the now well laden sailor.

  They stopped for lunch at a nice tavern with a terrace overlooking the bay and she relented enough to buy Paul a pint of ale and food. She didn’t want him fainting and dropping her parcels after all.

  A pleasant afternoon was had but it was soon time to return to their ships. Françoise whistled shrilly when they got to the dock and boats set out from both ships to bring them aboard.

  Steven was waiting for her and grinned when he heard Paul yelling up for a net to be lowered to bring aboard Scarlett’s purchases.

  They set sail and once they were on their way, Scarlett asked Steven to send down whoever he found that had tailoring experience. For the next few days, whenever she wasn’t on watch, she was locked away in her cabin with him.

  Finally, she emerged just as the sun was beginning to set, dressed in a pair of button up calf length leather boots into which were tucked a pair of teal green voluminous satin trousers that, when she stood still, could be mistaken for a skirt. Around her waist was the studded and decorated belt from which hung her sword and dagger, and above that she wore a leather bodice, which hugged her figure like a glove over a silk blouse. A pair of pistols were hung in leather holsters stitched onto the side of the bodice, buts forward so she could reach them with her opposite hand. To top it all off, she painted a black bar across her eyes with a mixture of carbon black and bee’s wax.

  As the sun hit her, setting off the colour of her hair, a silence spread across the deck where men were repairing clothes or just enjoying the evening sun. Steven looked at her and said,

  “I don’t know whether to be terrified or bedazzled,”

  “That,” she replied, “is just the effect I was looking for.”

  The storm hit two days later and blew them further south than they intended. It wasn’t that it was extremely violent, but it was persistent, and they had no choice other than to run before it. The Merlin struggled to stay in contact, and they would lose her for hours at a time only for her to show up a few cables away when there was a short break in the rain. This was a testament to the skill of Françoise as a sailor. He rode his ship like an expert horseman rode a feisty stallion, sometimes coaxing other times with a firm hand.

  It lasted a week and as the wind turned more to the Northeast, they steered as close to West as they could and made first landfall on St Lucia, which Daniel identified by the Pitons, the twin peaks that sat above the island.

  Chapter 6: St Lucia

  The island was held by the French but the British wanted it and made regular attempts to take it, so they knew they wouldn’t be welcome there.
r />   Françoise, however, still had his letter of marque from the French Government and slipped into Vieux Fort Bay to find out how the land lay. The Fox stood off and sailed slowly around to the West of the island looking for a place they could water. They spotted a bay with a good sand beach and streams running down through the lush forest.

  The Merlin slid into the bay with the French flag flying. Françoise looked for an anchorage slightly away from the other ships and brought them to a halt. The bay had a large redoubt overlooking it and Françoise headed up there once he got ashore to find some kind of official.

  “Hello, I am looking for whoever is the port authority,” he asked the first man he came across in French. The man shrugged and replied,

  “Hallo het spijt me, ik spreek geen Frans, ik ben Hollander.”

  “Do you speak English?”

  “A little, how can I help you?”

  “Can you tell me who the island belongs to at the moment?”

  The man laughed.

  “That depends on the week, it seems. Right now, this bay is controlled by us and the French claim the island, but to be honest, the natives really do. There are several tribes of Caribs here and they can change their minds whether or not we are welcome at the drop of a hat.”

  You speak more than a little English, my friend, thought Françoise as he looked around.

  “In any case, we Dutch outnumber the French on the island as there only a dozen of them. If you want to visit your countrymen, you will find their settlement at the North end of the island.”

  That was news. They assumed the island would be colonised, but it appeared that it was up for grabs. He would have to talk to Scarlett about that.

  Meanwhile, the Fox pulled into the bay and anchored. There was no sign of habitation, so after watching the tree line for an hour, Scarlett gave the order to take the casks ashore and water.

  She decided to go ashore herself and on instinct, dressed in her new outfit with the leather bodice and applied the black make-up mask. They used two boats to carry the casks ashore and had enough men to mount a guard in case of trouble.