The Bloody Cutlass

Chapter One

Violet Roberts stood in awe, gazing over the ships railing at the endless raging darkness of the waves on which the ship travelled.

"Careful, Miss." One of the sailors warned gently. "You would not wish to go overboard."

She wondered for a moment if going overboard would be so terrible.

Violet turned from the water and offered a polite smile in thanks. Her soft caramel tendrils whirling around her face, caressed by the salty air.

"Violet!" Her father's harsh, commanding voice rang out across the weather beaten deck of the large naval vessel. "Get inside this instant, before you catch your death!"

Violet met her fathers gaze, he was a fearsome sight to behold. Edgar was a distinguished, tall gentleman, his face hardened and wrinkled, his beard greying. Violet wondered if he was handsome in his day; but she knew no one was handsome once their face had settled into a permanent scowl like her fathers.

Though he was never a overly pleasant man; Violet was old enough to have marked a change in him around the time her mother passed. Since that time he had been colder, as though the last of his happiness had gone with his wife.

He had made short work of climbing the ranks in Her Majesty's Royal Navy and done well for himself and his family; it had made him respected and wealthier than he could have ever dreamed. It had also reinforced his natural stern and callous nature, along with his belief that men were more stronger, smarter and more valuable then any woman could ever hope to be. So when he was gifted with three daughters, he was hopeful that he would find advantages marriages for each.

Violet nodded meekly, prying her hand from the ships banister; she gathered her amber shawl around her tightly and crossed to the cabin to join her sisters.

Her two younger sisters, Grace and Poppy, squealed with delight and leapt away from the window as Violet closed the door to the stuffy cabin they had been sharing for the duration of the journey. "They were all watching you!" Poppy giggled, flopping down onto her bed with a swooning sigh.

"Well of course they were!" Grace replied, matter-of-factly, pausing to gather her sewing once again. "These men would hardly see women in their profession; and certainly none so beautiful as our beloved sister."

Violet flushed and shook her head at her sisters shamelessness. As the eldest Violet had done well to take the brunt of their fathers fierceness after their mother's untimely passing; as a result Grace and Poppy were wild and ignorant to the ways of the world.

When her father had announced that she would be married to Earl Fitzwilliam this coming spring, she had begged him to allow her sisters to accompany them to Port Crownstead for her wedding.

He reluctantly obliged, as this was her only request after learning she would become the property of a man she had met only once in passing. Violet had always strived to be demure and agreeable. Like her mother before her, she was a vision of what every young lady should be.

Though she did not wish to be given away to a stranger, she knew there could be no argument against it. So she would go, leaving behind her family, and childhood home, with all the memories of her mother inside it. She would put on a brave face, honour her father and secure the Earl as her husband so that her sisters might also marry well.

Poppy groaned placing a hand over her stomach, her thin frame still stretched out over the bed. "I do not think I will ever get used to the swaying of this ship."

Violet patted her sisters knee in comfort, but in truth, she had grown found of the gentle rocking of the ship in their short time aboard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Violet woke with the dawn. The first light of morning reflecting off the deep blue water. She longed to see the boundless waves again, to feel the wind in her hair. So she dressed quickly, and simply so as not to wake her sisters; and snuck from the cabin.

She breathed in the fresh air, savouring it to the last. At home on her fathers grand estate, Violet would often go for long walks to clear her head and feel the sun on her skin. But in the weeks aboard this ship her father had seen fit to confine her the dank and stuffy cabin with her sisters.

Undisturbed for quite some time, and believing that — save for perhaps a night watchman who had yet to be relieved — she was alone; Violet was startled by a noise.

She turned sharply to see a young man, his black hair was mused by the wind, standing up at all angles on his head like a strange crown. He wore a white puffy shirt that billowed in the wind, the laces were not tied, as they ought to be, so underneath, the tanned skin of his bare chest was visible. The very sight of him, stirred her in a way nothing ever had before. When Violet met his ghostly blue gaze, she cast her eyes away, her face heating with shame.

She mentally scolded herself, she was a lady, and engaged no less. She was all at once reminded of how alone they were and how indecent a meeting this was.

As she recovered from the shock of the encounter, she realized she had not seen that man once before now; after a week aboard this ship, she was familiar with the usual faces of the crew. But that man, she is sure she would have remembered him.

They had not made port in all that time, so there could only be one logical explanation, her mysterious stranger was a stowaway.