Early morning broke over the azure blue waters surrounding Port Royale and already the still semi hung-over crew was slowly filtering in from whatever hole they climbed into last night. Breakfast was something that once vaguely resembled porridge as they filtered past the ship’s cook and got their ration food for the morning. I took my place on the far side of the room, keeping very much to myself as I heard the grumblings under their breaths. They had heard of the runaway that had caught the captain’s attention and they were not pleased with it.
“He must be out of his damn mind.”
“Had too much red wine I recon.”
“It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
So they carried on but I ignored them, focusing on the food till I had emptied my bowl. Slowly, I got up and headed for the tavern’s exit; mindful of all the eyes following my every move. Let them stare; I valued no man’s opinion and could care less what they thought of me.
The docks were already humming as some of the crew was starting to load supplies and ammunition on board the ship. She was beautiful and majestic as she rested gently at the end of the docks. St Michelle stood nearby, a steady presence surveying all those around him. He only said what was needed but that was enough. The crew knew exactly what the quartermaster expected of them and none would dare raise a word against the dark skinned behemoth. I got busy carrying bags of supplies on board. It wasn’t difficult and I quickly got the foodstuffs down to the galley for the expectant cook as he took it off my hands. It was on one of my trips that I saw some of the pirates standing in a group.
“Hey girl! Come over here!” One shouted and I could hear them snickering by themselves. I gave them a cold stare as I walked over.
“What do you want?” I asked, already suspicious of their intents.
“These bags need to go to the cargo hold, so hurry up before the Captain gets here.” They roared with laughter as two of them picked up the heavy burlap bag and handed to me, fully expecting it to crush the small girl beneath it. I gritted my teeth and felt the now familiar wolf’s blood rushing through my veins. Like a roaring inferno inside me, it made me stronger than ten full grown men. With a small self confident chuckle, I grabbed the bag and walked merrily off with it, whistling as I went. Adelmar turned his back on them with his nose in the air and trotted after me. The pirates could not hide the shock in their voices and I heard one or two mumbling a hasty Hail Mary to the heavens.
We carried on well into the morning, loading cargo and enough shot to sink even the biggest of war ships. The crew avoided me as far as possible, wary of the strange child that had come into their midst. I could see the fear in their eyes; they were hardened men who held no fear for anything mortal on the seas, save that of the unknown. And that was precisely what I was to them. A blonde haired witch in their midst that the ocean spat out at them. The Captain arrived shortly thereafter, walking slowly and calmly but not missing a beat. He took in everything around him, every subtle nuance and every detail. He made his way over to St Michelle, carefully observing the massive North African as he respectfully returned the gaze.
“Everything in order Philippe?” He knew the answer but liked testing the quartermaster.
“All is well Captain, the cargo and the shot has been loaded and the men are at the ready. Still a bit hung over from their nightly whoring but nothing a bit of sea water won’t cure. The scum will be ready when the time comes Captain.”
“Excellent. And the wind? How blows she?” It was an old ritual between the two friends but St Michelle gamely played along.
“She’s an evil wind Captain but a steady one, perfect for any buccaneer. We can sail on your order.” He replied in a strong and confident tone. The Captain nodded at him, then slowly sauntered past us, inspecting the crew with the merest of glances. In front of me he stopped and looked down, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He ran a hand over the side of his face covered in his long black hair before snapping his fingers suddenly. The ragged bunch of pirates knew it was the sign that the Captain approved of the preparations and the quickly boarded the ship behind him. They didn’t look like much but each man did their job like a well oiled machine and the mighty pirate vessel lurched away from the pier, its crisp black sails billowing in the wind. St Michelle saw me standing to the side and called me over.
“The deck is no place for a child, even for an unusual one. The cook is looking for an assistant and you would be well served there.” His tone was friendly but bade no argument with it. Glumly, I slinked off to the galley; saddened that I was going to miss the action upstairs. The pirate ship turned north as it rounded the island, it was heading towards the American coast. A silent, deadly hunter waiting to pounce on any unsuspecting victim that dared crossed its path. And I was stuck below deck, it didn’t seem at all fair to me.
Eventually, I reached the galley door and pushed through. The cook was busy chopping carrots and onions at the far side, swearing profusely at each well timed swing of the blade. With a quick flick of the wrist, he deftly launched the vegetables into a nearby boiling pot of soup. He turned to me and gave a look like he had seen something at the bottom of his shoe.
“This? This is what St Michelle sends me? I asked for a strong man, not a child! I can teach any of those apes to cook but what am I supposed to do with a runt like you? Ca me fait chier!” He stopped for a moment and peered past me. His eyes widened as he Adelmar peeking out from behind my leg. With a roar, he grabbed a nasty looking butcher’s knife and ran towards me. Calmly, I cocked my head to the side and reached for a knife lying on a table next to me. I held the razor sharp blade under his throat as he came to a screeching halt. Bent over, he looked at me in shock, not fully comprehending yet what happened.
“Uh uh, this one is with me. Now shall we try it with a bit more manners? That’s a good boy. The name’s Helena and you are?”
The heavy set man stepped back, rubbing his throat. He clearly did not like that much steel so close to his flesh. “I am Gavorche, the one who has to feed these animals. Though none of these barbarians would know good food if it bit them on the arse.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, then looked down at me and sighed. “I suppose you will have to do.”
“Fantastic,” I replied. “Where do I start?”
“I need some supplies from the back. Hopefully you will not screw that up. Oh and keep that…thing down there away from the food okay? I still have standards, even if I am on this traveling madhouse. If my dearest mother could see me now. ” He shook his head and stomped off down the galley. I spent the next few days in the company of Gavorche and started to take a liking to the big man. He could be a nothing short of a raging animal at times, swearing wildly and throwing his arms about when the produce wasn’t up to his standards. A crew member made the mistake of his life when he tried to sneak into the galley to pinch an extra ration of rum. The chef caught him and using a butcher knife like an artist would use a brush, deftly stripped him of all his clothes. He chased him arse naked out of the galley, much to the amusement of the crew. I later heard that the Captain had him thrown overboard for his crime. Another time Gavorche could be as gentle as the summer rain, carefully showing me the subtle spices he used in his stews and soups. Though it wasn’t my thing, I listened intently to him as he explained philosophy, his seeing of life and everything in between to me. It turns out he ran a successful restaurant back in France but got into trouble when he visited England one year (To see a long lost cousin he claimed, the English food was shit according to him). He got drunk one night in an inn and when he woke up the next morning, he was a prisoner on a British trading ship. Some men had kidnapped him and forced him to work on their ship as a sailor. He quickly took over the galley and ran the ship’s kitchens.
“But I always longed for freedom from those English pigs and my chance finally came one day. Captain De La Roca had heard about my talents and paid the English Captain off handsomely for my services. The fact that he had a ship waiting to rob them blind when they left port didn’t hurt matters either ha-ha! Since then, I have worked for the Captain as a free man and I will always be grateful to him.”
I spent many a happy day in the stuffy confines of the galley and it soon became like a second home to me. Gavorche and I turned it into our own little kingdom and pity the fool that dared trespass on it. He even got used to the idea of having Adelmar in his kitchen, even though he threatened to throw him in a cooking pot once or twice when the cub snatched something off the preparation table. All in all, it was one of the few times in my life that I was truly happy. Then came the day when everything would be thrown into total chaos. We heard the shouting late one afternoon as the thundering of feet and angry voices sounded out through the ship. Gavorche stuck his head out of the galley to find out what was going on. He returned moments later with a wicked smile on his face.
“What is it?” I asked.
He rubbed his hands in glee and reached for his sharpest knife. “A trade ship on the horizon and she bares the English Cross. Looks like we’re going to have a little fun Mon Cheri.” He had the look of a madman about him.
And I absolutely loved it
