Chapter Text
The year is 1715, and the ship has fallen into silence. There are only the sounds of snores and the cracking of wood. You move between the hammocks down the dormitory. You have a knife in your hand that you stole from the kitchen earlier today, and it's small and fits in a fold in your dress under your belt. You have felt the tip push against your stomach a few times today, but you didn't flinch. The pain would be far worse if someone discovered you had it. Not only the pain from the whip against your back. Also, from between your legs, when they rape you in the name of discipline.
And now most of them are on the shores of Nassau, and you have had enough of this shit. It has been three years since the navy sold you off to that fat, greedy merchant—three years of constant fear, pain, and humiliation at the hands of him and his crew. Nassau is a pirate island, and they make their own rules. If there is one place on God's green earth you can get away with murder, this is it. There is also the fact that the last you heard of your former ship was that Pirates from Nassau attacked it. And if the rumors are true, they didn't kill everyone. Some volunteered as crewmembers. You may see a friendly face, though you know the chance of this is ridiculously low.
You crawl in the shadows towards one of the hammocks and peer down at the snoring man. He is out cold, and he reeks of rum. You hesitate with the knife held two inches from his pulse. Once you do this, you have to do it again and again. Five times. Five human lives. You can't hesitate. Not even for a second. And you are not even sure you can do it this once.
You hear the sleeping man make a noise that would state he is awakening. And then the knife is in his neck so deep that your hand touches his skin. Startled, you pull the blade back out, and he looks at you with wide eyes. He tries to scream, but only a pitiful gurgling sound escapes his throat. The blood makes most of the noise. You had not thought this through, and panicking; you try to grab the blood with your hands. It spills out in a pulsating motion. It helps when you make the blood run down your arms, onto your body, and out on the floor. You are so close to a full-blown panic attack, but you remind yourself you are almost a doctor. You have seen more blood than most. Still, his is drenching you. The stench from it and the whole experience has you so close to vomiting your guts out. But you crawl towards the next hammock. You figure it's too late to find anything to collect the blood because you promised yourself not to hesitate. So, you do the same thing again. And then again. And then again.
Now there is only one left. Unfortunately, that is the captain of the ship. It's not that you don't want to kill him; it's just not going to be easy. He is in the captain's cabin, so you must open a heavy wooden door. He might wake up from this. You collect two pistols from the dead. You have no idea how these things work, but they might come in handy if he wakes up.
You step out onto the deck and head for the door to the cabin. Your footstep makes a wet, sticky sound as you walk, and you realize how much blood is on you. There is no time to dwell on this because you have reached the door. With a pistol in each hand, you kick in the door. The captain is so startled that he throws himself down to the floor from the bed. He searches for something, but you don't let him, so you pull the trigger on the pistol in your right hand. When nothing happens, you pull the trigger on the left. Again, nothing. And now the fat merchant bastard has found what he was looking for and points it at you. He pulls the trigger, and you feel a sharp sting at the side of your waist. You don't take any time to consider if you are dying. You pull your knife from the belt and launch yourself on top of the man. Then, in a blood rush, you stab at his chest repeatedly while he tries to defend himself. You feel the blood drip from your face when he no longer moves. And then you vomit.
You walk out to the water barrel on the deck and plop yourself down in the cool water. You scrub fiercely at your face and hands but can't see if you get it all off. Then you pull your dress over your head and start to wash the rest of your body. The adrenaline in your system subsides, and you feel the wound at your side. You stand up in the barrel and try to make out how bad it is, but even though the sun rises, there isn't enough light.
You find your way back to the captain's cabin, grab the lantern from the wall, and move it to your side. The bullet has gone right through the side of your waist, and the only danger is from blood loss. So, you search his cabinet for clothing and find a linen tunic. You tear a long piece from it. It's good that he was a large man because there is enough fabric to wrap around you three times. You tighten a knot over the entrance of the wound as hard as you can while you grunt from the pain. Then your search for more clothing, but only a shirt will stay on you. Everything else is too big and slides off of your body. The shirt covers your knee-long breeches, and you put your belt back on to keep the fabric in place. You also grab his feathery captain's hat and put it on your head. It's too big for you, but you keep it on anyway because you're the captain now.
And then you stand out on the deck again, and the sun is burning bright on the horizon. You can see the harbor stir with people and contemplate how to get the launch in the water. It would be absurd if you didn't make it to safety before the others returned. You decide to cut the rope holding the boat with the sword you also took from the merchant. It lands with a splash in the water, and you climb down the Jacobs ladder and tumble down into it.
You have seen how rowing works and sit with your back toward your destination. It seems dumb, but this is how the men do it, and you start to row. It's hard, and after a while, you feel your arms begin to fail you. Even worse, whenever you pull the ores, you can feel the blood seeping out from your wound—the blood leaks from your bandages and onto your clothes.
There is a splashing sound behind you. Before you can turn around, there is an arm around your neck and a dagger at your heart. You think it's one of the crewmates, but then he starts to speak, and you recognize his voice.
"Where is she?" He hisses at you, tightening the grip he has on you.
"William?" you whisper.
He immediately lets you go, and you turn around to face him. You fall into his arms, and he holds you as you faint from blood loss.
The young man who's holding you is William Manderly. The two of you, and a bunch of other unfortunate young souls, were captured by a press gang and forced to work for the navy. You were both from London and literate middle-class kids. Your parents had wanted you to become a doctor and had used every saving on your education. His parents had been 'Levellers' and were very involved in politics. The press had taken him while he was handing out pamphlets. He was to be a sailor for the army, and you were to be a kitchen girl. They soon discovered your knowledge of healing and promoted you to be the doctor's assistant.
William had taken care of you from the day you arrived. There was no counting the times he got in trouble from defending you from unwanted attention. You had loved him like a brother until the day the now-dead merchant came by with his big purse and bought you.
You open your eyes and see William pulling the ores with what you would describe as a worrying warrior face. You look up at him and are about to say something, but then everything goes black. When your eyes open again, he is carrying you in his arms. He is fast through the sand, and you feel your legs dangling from the movement.
You whisper, "Will… bleeding… you need to…."
"I know; I see the blood. Hang on, and try to stay awake."
But then your head falls back, and you fall unconscious. The next thing you see is a stranger splitting your shirt in two. You notice how he stops right under your chest. You feel the sting of alcohol pouring into your wound and want to scream, but you clench your jaw and grunt instead. William is there, holding your head in his lap and stroking your hair. When you look up at his face, you see he looks scared, so you figure you are pretty far out. Then your eyes roll back into your head.
When you open them again, you notice the sound of waves and chattering men in the distance. You are in a tent, feeling a little better but weakened.
You look down at yourself. Your shirt, or what's left of it, is bound in a knot under your chest. Your stomach is pale, and so are your arms now that you look at them. You've lost much blood, and you are fortunate to be alive. Further down, there is a seemingly fresh bandage bound around your waist. You slide your fingers down under it to look at your wound. It's sewn together haltingly. That's going to leave a scar, you think, but you are grateful to be alive.
William is at your side, reading, and he hasn't noticed you are awake.
"W…" you try to speak, but your throat is so dry that no words come out.
He throws his book to the floor and rushes to your side. You put your arms around his neck, and he gets you sitting upright. It hurts like hell, but you forget about it when he gives you a canteen, and you chuck the whole thing down.
He strokes your damp hair from your face, and your head falls back and rests on a cushion. None of you say anything, but his smile and the sparkle in his eyes, say it all. And then you start to cry. You push your hands in your eyes to try to stop the tears, but it doesn't help. He puts his arm around you, and you bury your face into his chest. He doesn't seem to mind at all, so you let yourself get rid of all your grief right then and there.
When only sobs are left, you ask him about the years you have been separated: The story that pirates boarded his ship was true. Shortly after the merchant took you, The notorious captain Flint seized the navy ship. He offered William the opportunity to confront his capturer, and William slew him. After that, he knew he couldn't return home and accepted a position on the pirate vessel 'The Walrus.' He quickly climbed through the ranks and now works as the ship's boatswain.
The Walrus had just gotten back from the sea this morning. Then William, who now goes by 'Billy Bones', saw your ship anchored in the harbor.
He recognized it immediately. When he noticed the launch on the way to shore, he decided to swim out to your capturer. He thought only the captain was in the boat because of the hat.
You want to ask him something, but a stranger enters the tent. It's not the man who tended to your wounds. This one has red hair bound in a half ponytail and a stern look on his face. You notice how William, or Billy, moves a bit further from you. "Captain."
"Why don't you go get some food for your guest while I have a word with her."
His voice is low and gruff, but his pronunciation discloses an academic background.
You can see Billy swallow, then get up on his legs. He is reluctant to let you alone with the man, but he follows orders and leaves you in the tent.
When the captain turns his attention to you, his frowning fades, and his voice softens.
"We've had a chance to inspect your... handiwork. Very impressive. Billy told me they kept you enslaved, and I say they deserved the fate you granted them. Would you care to relay some details in your own words?"
"Thank you, sir," you whisper, and then clear your throat, "I punctuated their carotid arteries. Most efficient. But I only got away with that on four of them. I tried to shoot the merchant with no luck, so I had to stab him in his heart, and it got messy..."
"I see... you know, I could use a good doctor on my ship."
You feel panic and decide to be direct, hoping he won't force you onto his ship.
"I'm not a doctor. And I'm not getting on a ship again, so help me God; I will throw myself in the waves first."
His soft expression doesn't change.
"Understandable. I'm sorry to tell you this, but the trade boss is rather displeased with you. You, murdering a potential business partner in the harbor of Nassau, is bad for business. I would offer you a safe place in my crew, but since that's out of the question..." he contemplates. "Still, I would hate for your abilities to go to waste in the brothel. Assuming you are lucky, they don't make an example out of you."
You hold your breath.
"I know of a man who wants to be a captain. He owns a small estate by the shoreline. It's a bit outside of the city. You should trade the ship for his house and set up a health clinic. Billy spoke of your years in the navy and how you patched the sailors up. Nassau would benefit from this, and you will have economic support from me. And from Richard Guthrie when I convince him."
You look at the man with wide eyes and gaping jaws. Then you blink. "Thank you, sir."
"My name is Captain James Flint."
"Thank you, Captain," you correct.
"Doctor," he nods.
You smile at the surprisingly friendly pirate. It's your first encounter with one; he might be the most civilized person you've ever encountered. Almost all men tend to let their gaze wander further south of your face, but this one stares you right in the eyes. And you feel his respect for you, and you feel yourself wanting that respect.
"Well, I won't keep you much longer. You should know that we have people stationed on your ship. Should anyone return to it, we will round them up, and you will be able to decide if they live or die.
"Are you serious?"
"Always. Good day to you, doctor."
He gives you a nod and leaves the tent.