The Nature of the Beast

Chapter 1

Plymouth, 1873

Enid stood alone on Millbay Pier, contemplating escape. The docks weren't a place for a young girl to come unaccompanied, and if her father were alive she wouldn't be. She hunched her shoulders, shivered and rubbed her arms despite the warmth of the beaming sun. Thoughts of her father left her conflicted. She loved him but was angry at his leaving. Leaving Enid and her brother with her. She no longer spoke her name, would never again call her mother.

Contemplating wasn't the right word. She wasn't trying to decide if she would leave, she was wondering how, or better yet, who would take her. She wouldn't spend another day in this wretched town filled with fishermen and drunks. She needed to escape Plymouth, and a ship was her best option.

As she turned to take one look back into the dull, grey town, a small feeling of hope burgeoned inside. Maybe her mother regretted her actions and was searching for her. But no. She was alone. The gulls were squawking in the sky, their confident caws jolting her back to the here and now, strengthening her resolve. That, and the reality that her only other choice besides leaving would be to head back into town and beg for shelter. Begging was something her mother would do, but not Enid. 

She squared her shoulders and began walking down the dock. Her white scalloped boots clicked on the boards as she slowly made her way, hands clasped tight behind her back, gaining confidence with each step. She checked each ship as she walked unsure what she was looking for. Coarse, rough-looking men bumped and jostled her as she walked the wooden planks; the sour stench of unwashed bodies and rotting fish assaulted her and she wrinkled her nose in displeasure.

As she neared the end of the dock she saw it, the most unique ship in port. Small with a pointy nose, the fluyt was compact and sturdy looking. The dark chocolate wood shone in the sun and there was something maternal about the belly of the beast, its hull curved and bulged like the stomach of a pregnant woman. Enid was drawn to it. The boat had three masts, all shorter and wider than any other ship. It was small but despite its size, Enid hoped it was going far away.

"Bought her years ago from a man who shipped for the Royal Navy," the captain bragged, towering over the port master who was a short man with a large moustache.

The captain's accent was strong and authoritative as he spoke. Enid wondered as she listened where he was from, and even more important, where he was going.

"I have the sale and transport papers right here." He tapped the rolled up parchment in his hand before tossing it over.

"I now hold the only license to export the countries Plymouth Gin," he smiled at the tall, busty woman on his arm. The port master nodded and left, documentation in hand.

As the port master waddled off, Enid turned her attention back to the man in front of her. He had his arm around a tall, dark haired woman, together they were statuesque. The captain was the tallest man she had ever laid eyes on. Enid stood only as high as his chest. The woman beside him was only a few inches shorter. They were giants to Enid.

A pirate captain and his whore, not the type of company Enid kept, but she was desperate to leave. A peek at the side of the ship revealed its name "Mother's Ruin" carved deep into the wood. It seemed serendipitous, given her current state of affairs.

With her chin high in the air and shoulders back, she tried to look older and more commanding than her scrawny sixteen years allowed. If there were any other way, but no, her options were thus - stay in Plymouth and be forced into an orphanage, or starve on the streets. If she were to starve on the streets, she'd rather take her chances as far away as possible. At least that way it was her choice. With her brother dead and her mother god knows where, she was alone either way.