Captain Abigale

©Jenny Bertel

My life began in a very odd way, especially for a woman. I was born on a pirate ship in the middle of the night in still waters to a woman no one wanted on board to begin with. She was only there as a hostage and shortly after my arrival she bled out and was tossed to the black waters. I do not even know her name. Some of the men wanted to throw me over too, what would a band of pirates do with a newborn baby?

The captain I have been told many times, stood at the helm with me screaming in his arms and thought it over for some time. When the sun came up he had them slaughter a baby goat and cook it up so I could take the milk in its place. The men talked for a few days and agreed on Abigale and my childhood surprisingly was very happy and peaceful, for the most part. Better than two thirds of it was spent at sea but that worked out well because what else was I going to do when my adopted father, Captain Lockheart passed on? I inherited his ship, The Black Maiden, ironic name but appropriate.

I didn't want to be confused with my father so I adopted the name Captain Abby and half my crew were the sons of the crew who raised me, my brothers in arms. I dressed like a Captain, like a man for the most part but I didn't disguise myself as one. I couldn't have anyways. My breasts were on the larger size and my face was far too girlish. The coat I wore usually hid my curves but I didn't try to hide. My sex was part of my story...my lore. I had begun before my father passed by killing nine men in one afternoon when we were boarded by a Captain Amstead and his gang. Amstead decorated the bow until he rotted at my request. I had been fourteen. Years of hard work had given me a strong build and a fast hand.

I honestly never thought of myself as beautiful, pretty perhaps. I had black hair with soft ripples that lay thick around my shoulders and rather large, golden brown eyes. The last man who called me doe eyed however got a dagger in his thigh.

Don't misunderstand, being a woman has immense disadvantages as a pirate. We are never taken seriously the first time around and we tend to face men trying to force themselves on us far more often. Then there is the extreme awkwardness you feel when you pick a fight with a man in a tavern and you both stand to face one another only to find your opponent is a foot taller than you and you can barely reach his face with your fist. Times like those it is good to have loyal men...and strong chairs.

All good captains have a nemesis and mine was Captain Sterling. He was a formidable man, tall and strong, as young as I was still. Like a slender ox. The one time we actually faced each other man to man so to speak I got away with a badly broken arm, two stab wounds and half the cargo he had on his ship. We headed to a well protected island I knew where we turned liberated slaves into more loyal crew and I spent time healing my broken body.

When we set sail again I was feeling well, impatient and very, very sick of the stone still ground beneath my feet. I stood at the bow and howled into the salty breeze with excitement as we headed out under a blue sky. My men were laughing, happy and very drunk. Normalcy had returned. For nearly an entire two years we saw fortune and prosperity and then sickness came. We found ourselves retreating ports to avoid plague and our pockets were getting empty.

Standing at the starboard side of my ship, feeling the sun on my face and tasting the beloved blue in my mouth I felt no joy. I was restless and nervous. How long would this last, we needed a safe port with lucrative opportunities or more prey at sea to feed our voracious crew. It was getting thin.

"Captain?" Came a soft voice at my shoulder. I turned to look at the young deckhand. He had freckled cheeks and big blue eyes.

"Yes?" I replied dryly. He gave me a nervous face. I frowned. "Just speak boy." I ordered.

"Yes Sir. There is a ship sitting ahead. She's still, sails up." He replied.

I nodded and gazed across to the bow but I couldn't see through all the rigging and things in the way to get a look. "What does she look like?" I asked curious. He shifted on his bare feet and gave me another nervous look but spoke this time.