Pirate Souls

II - Chapter 1 - Rage and despair

She did it. I can't believe it. ....

I shall kill her.

Under my very nose! My ship!

River. A dreaded lethargy prevents me from making a move. What can I do? Yell? Cry out "Stop thief"?

I myself had stolen the brig when I eliminated its previous captain five years ago in New Providence. That damned Sirena knew that I would be bound hand and foot, because we had entered the port of New Orleans illegally.

Cook is in a flurry beside me. I have never seen him so panic-stricken. He understands that we have lost. We've lost everything! Even my bounty. The hard-won gold that was supposed to cancel my debt with that dirty devil Marcelin. By taking off with the Anarkhia, my crew and my treasure, she has condemned me to death.

She could have waited for me. We could have left together. That is what I wanted. All that I had desired since our first meeting.

She did not know it at the time, but I had always known it. She is different. Like me. We belong to those beings who are rejected by our fellows. They claim that we are weak. And that is our strength!

The system would have had me cave in. Bend under the harsh blows that life and our so well-coded society have in store. No.

Not for me.

I bear the brunt of the scars and the wounds. I get to my feet again. Even if it hurts. Even if they make me suffer fit to burst. I grab burning embers and turn them against my enemies. They have a weakness that I no longer know: fear.

Sirena has rid herself of it too.

That is why I do not understand why she has chosen to steal my ship and leave me. My mind is in a whirl in a dark, icy ocean. Is it because I carried the transaction through to the end? Was she trying to make me pay even more dearly for abandoning her?

She must surely have known that I would never have left her without devising a plan to get her back. Cook and I had planned to watch Basselin and return in a few days' time to slit the miscreant's throat. Not in the inn, of course. I would have been found guilty in a trice. The idea was to attack them on their way to the plantations. The bayou is full of nasty thieves ready to hire their services for blood-thirsty adventures. I had said nothing of this to Florence in her own interest. If the attack had gone badly, she would not have had to pay the price of my failure.

It would have been much easier to recruit henchmen to kidnap Mademoiselle des Acres de l'Aigle here in Louisiana than what we had to endure in Charleston. In addition to John, Nick and Cook, I had been obliged to take on a local band of scoundrels. Die-hards. Only desperados could suit my purpose for this mission. The members of my crew had not wanted to join us, claiming to be more at ease at sea than on horseback.

The four bandits found us some worthy beasts for the journey in the forest of South Carolina. We even had an extra mount for the young women we were supposed to recover. Luck was on our side, because the little noblewoman had not left with the convoy that her future spouse had reserved for her.

The abduction could not have gone better. I demolished the face of a big fellow with red hair who reminded me of my father. John could not refrain from killing a guard. The fair-headed girl followed us without a word. The scoundrels didn't even argue when I ordered that the women should not be molested.

This decision was not guided by the goodness of my soul. No, no. It was a question of logic. And contract. The one I had signed with Basselin stipulated that it was forbidden to damage the goods. He had been very clear on this. I don't know if this agreement extended to the two lady friends accompanying her. That special clause was probably written on the parchment that I wore against my chest. Unfortunately, there was no way I could verify this. I cannot read. It is not for lack of trying to learn. But letters refuse to make sense to me. They muddle and mix and afford me the most terrible migraines.

When we arrived at Dolovan's inn, John and I thought it was all cut and dried. We made merry. I granted myself the pleasure of sleeping in the same bed as the blonde. It was not easy to restrain my male ardour, particularly as I could see that the damsel had a very fine figure.

Once I was lying on the mattress, I slid my hand down her back. My thumb tickled the lobe of her ear and then lost itself in the fine, delicate nape of her neck. My other hand brushed against the roundness of her hip. In a move, I could be on her. I could crush her with the weight of my body and relieve the tension in my crotch in the moistness of her genitals. She would not have been able to defend herself. I would have stifled her cries with my wrist. And then I would have felt her breasts, bitten her neck and ploughed into her body.

I did not do it. Because of the contract. For my future. My reputation.

On the following day, things became more difficult. Those damned thieves demanded double the price we had agreed on. They threatened to tell all to the redcoats.

I had a few coins advanced by the contractor. The total sum was not sufficient, because I also had to plan the purchase of victuals for the voyage to Tortuga, and then to New Orleans.

I acted as a captain worthy of the name. A pirate captain. During the afternoon, I invited those gentlemen on board, claiming that I wanted to pay them. The idiots, they had no idea. They followed me to steerage. Bappé, Rodger, John and the rest of the crew fell upon them. Everything went very fast. My knife pierced the eye of the gang leader. Bappé caved in the skull of a fellow whose stench was as unbearable as Rick's. The other two died their bellies cut open by our cutlasses. The agitation on deck did not arouse the suspicion of nearby ships. Leng and Nick had arranged to unfurl a few sails at the right moment.

My men washed away the blood and entrails while Cook and I looked after getting the object of the contract on board. The rumour of the disappearance of a noblewoman was beginning to swell. The English were on the alert. We could not go far without coming across those damned sausage-eating soldiers.

I borrowed some clothes from Léon, one of my ship's boys. Even with his bonnet and his ample clothing, the pretty blonde glowed. Florence des Acres possesses a beauty which shines out of her like sharp blades. I often think that she must be a witch. She is one of those women who knows how to use their charm.

That day, when I saw her in her men's disguise, I promised myself that I would have her.

And not just for one night.

For ever.

Yes, I want to have my cake and eat it and everything else too! I' faith! I'm a pirate!

Who could have imagined that old joker Basselin was her father? What sort of a knucklehead recruits a gang of mercenaries to capture his own daughter? Or gives up his title to trade in tobacco on the other side of the world? That's where Sirena gets her madness from.

And now, the beauty has fled on the sea with bloody seamen each more dangerous than the last.

The bastards! They have betrayed me. I'll have their hides too. Bappé and Leng have been with me for years. I took on Rick when the captains of the lousiest ships refused to have him on board. And as for the kids, Nick and Léon, I knew that they were in love with her. And who wasn't? I cannot hold it against them. But they'll get a good thrashing when I find them.

And those blacks that I had just saved from hard labour. The woman. That Gwewa. The hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end when I think of her. A witch from the swamps. I must have been insane to purchase her! I should have chained her up in the hold as soon as Florence was well again. As soon as she saw her returning, she must have thrown herself at her feet. Just like Jaime. I had had high hopes for the Spaniard. A fellow over six feet tall with strong muscles and a small brain. A half-wit in a man's body: the perfect rogue.

Bappé and he knew of our plan to bring Florence back with us. They knew that I planned to save her.

It galls me. My entrails are burning.

I swear on the ocean that I shall pass a sharp blade under the throats of the traitors and will watch them bleed to death.

Sirena is mine. And the Anarkhia too.