Pirate Souls

I - Chapter 1 - The Abduction

I am frightened. I am cold and I am in pain.

I am not a seasoned rider. It is a very great effort for me to stay in the saddle for long stretches of time. My leg muscles are beginning to ache.

We have been riding through the thick South Carolina forest for several hours. When the leader decides that we shall stop near a stream, terror replaces my anxiety. Shivers run down my spine. My feet and hands sting as if needles were being driven into them. One of the men pulls me roughly off my horse and throws me against a tree trunk.

"Don't move!" he orders.

He might be talking to a dog.

For a while, nobody takes any interest in me. The leader of the group is much too engaged in making an inventory of his bounty. His henchmen busy themselves with the makeshift campfire and the animals.

I could escape. I even contemplate it. But I do not make a move. Where could I go?

The New World is vast even when you have a map and a good guide. But here and on my own, there is no way I can survive. If I am not killed by a wild animal before I starve to death or die of cold, the savages will deal with me.

I am being stupid. I know what will happen to me if I stay with these murderers. Perhaps it would be better to die a slow death than suffer the fate that these brutes have in store for me? And even if they intend to rape me, it will not prevent them from killing me.

I have always liked to think of myself as a young woman with more courage than others, but at present, faced with death, I can but bide my time.

Gradually, my enemies settle down where they can to doze. At last I am able to study my captors. Eight men. The stench of their bodies is so foul that I can smell them moving before I see them.

Nine horses. From this I deduce that my abduction was planned.

I know their leader. I have already met him.

It was three weeks ago, in the port of Charleston, in British territory.

After a journey which had lasted for more than a month and which had taken me from Brest to Louisbourg, I had just spent a further two weeks on choppy seas aboard a vessel whose destination the Southern Province. Its cargo was mainly composed of rams and ewe. I was so relieved to be on dry land that I must have been radiating joy like a ray of sunshine. He hailed me.

"What a pretty shipment! Never before has the Septon delivered such a beauty."

I would not normally have deigned to answer him. Nobles do not address commoners. Or, as Mother liked to say, doves do not speak the language of toads. I do not know what prompted me to dally with him. Perhaps it was the euphoria of having finally reached my destination, and having my feet on dry land. Or the frank gaze which showed his self-assurance and natural authority.

"I agree." I answered in perfect English. "Our ewes are ravishing."

The wink I gave him surprised him and we both laughed. Although his apparel attested to the fact that he was poor, his posture gave him a stately demeanour. His cocked hat was threadbare in places. I remember thinking that he would be charming if he would only take a brush to his hair and have a good bath. With his back against a barrel, he eyed me covetously. I moved away to admire the port of Charleston and the hustle and bustle of the sailors on the docks, mindful all the while that his eyes were fixed on me.

"Do you need a guide to take you into town?" he asked.

I turned around. I had to half-close my eyes to survey him. His silhouette was etched on the horizon in the light of the rising sun.