Pirate Souls

I - Chapter 4 - Anarchy

I have been learning about life on this tub for a week now. I rarely leave the captain's quarters.

The sailors frighten me, and in any event, I would not know how to make myself useful on such a vessel. For the time being, I am content to observe my enemies.

My curiosity prompts me to attempt to discover the name of the infamous cosignatory of the contract with Steven. Who on earth can wish me such ill?

I have searched the cabin in detail, and the only thing I have found is a heavy wooden chest hidden under a loose floorboard. Despite several efforts, I have not been able to pick its silver lock.

Besides this meagre discovery, I have noticed a few things which are not completely useless. The ship's captain suffers from paranoia and is always on the lookout for the slightest rumour making the rounds of his vessel. He manages his sailors with a firm but fair hand. Some of them appear to worship him, while other mercenaries are there just for the crossing and will seek employment elsewhere on Tortuga or in New Orleans. I think the quartermaster's name is John. He is the one who has been eyeing me strangely since the beginning of my captivity. A murderer. It was he who slit the unfortunate Monsieur Dubois' throat in our camp in the thick forest of South Carolina.

Cook seems to be the captain's most faithful companion. He is the only sailor that Steven leaves alone with me. Twice a day, I am permitted to walk accompanied on the upper deck, which enables me to learn more about the ship taking me to hell.

I know from my meagre naval knowledge that the ship on which we are sailing to Tortuga is called a brig. It is a two-masted square-rigger. This is not surprising. Captain Guyon had told us of these pirate ships, such as the brigantines, which do not have much space for storage, but are capable of slicing through the sea speedily and with agility. Its manoeuvrability is disconcerting and it only needs about eight sailors to pilot it.

Fortunately, this trip had nothing in common with my first sea trip.

I boarded Le Dauphin on a Monday. The journey by cart to Brest had exhausted me. I was lucky to be accompanied by my friend Hélène, who was much keener than myself to set off on this trip to the Americas. She belonged to the new nobility that Mother hated so much.

At three o'clock, we sailed towards the open sea in very fine weather and a light Easterly wind.

The crossing was long and harrowing. After two weeks, the drinking water we were carrying started to turn yellow and it was not rare to find worms at the bottom of our flasks.

At day break more than a month later, we discovered Scatarie Island. I had thought that travelling in summer would spare us certain unpleasant weather conditions. It was not to be so. The wind whistled perpetually in our ears. The sky was somewhat troubled, and it rained frequently. Our captain, Monsieur de Diziers-Guyon, explained the danger of the ice and cold in these remote regions.

The Dauphin's mission was not solely to escort a provincial noblewoman into exile in the New World. The voyage had been ordered by the king himself to send Monsieur de Chabert to North America to carry out geometrical and astronomical operations. My presence was purely an ill that the crew were obliged to bear.

We arrived at Louisbourg on 9th April in a thick mist that almost prevented us from entering the harbour. Finally, in the afternoon, we were able to disembark. I was briefly introduced to Monsieur Desherbiers, Ship's captain and Governor of the island, before joining my cousin Claire and her husband, Mister Bruce McDougall.

A week later we boarded the Septon for Charleston.

Despite my condition as a captive, I am delighted to no longer be besieged by unceasing drizzle. Here, the weather is clement. The Anarkhia is carried by a trade wind. The bold beauty of the sea shimmers under the clear blue sky.