Page 39 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke (Notorious Sisters of London #3)
Chapter Two
T he merchant ship was floundering, its hull torn through by canon ball, taking on water fast. A fire had broken out at one end, engulfing the sails, and Captain Norman Black, known to his friends as “Nox,” had just ordered his own ship The Rosa Mystica to draw alongside.
“Planks down, Men, and we’ll board her,” he called out, as the stricken merchant ship came close.
Nox could see her captain on the deck, surrounded by nervous-looking crewmen.
These vessels were easy pickings, coming from London laden with goods for trade.
He and his men had boarded a hundred similar ships, lying in wait for them in a secluded cove off the island, before sighting them and sailing at full wind to intercept.
There was rarely ever any resistance from those on board, and Nox and his men would take them prisoners, impound their cargo, and put them off on one of the outlying islands of the archipelago.
It was a simple business, but a profitable one, for the reach of the Royal Navy had not yet found its authority in these remote islands.
“We are unarmed,” the captain called out, as Nox’s men lowered their boarding planks across to the deck.
“Then you will not put up a fight and no one shall be hurt,” Nox replied, laughing, as he drew his sword and crossed the plank to the merchant ship.
A dozen of his men followed him, all with their swords drawn, and the crew of the merchant ship was soon subdued.
A few of them lashed out, demanding their rights as citizens of the British Empire.
But such pleas fell on deaf ears, for Norman Black held no allegiance to any empire.
He was a child of the sea, raised by pirates, at least that was as far back as his memory went.
He had spent more time at sea than on dry land, and The Rosa Mystica had been his home since he was a boy, the crew the only family he knew.
She was a fine ship, once a Spanish galleon, captured off the north coast of South America.
Her sails were tall and proud, a black flag with clenched fist and cutlass stitched in white fluttering from her crow’s nest. She was painted black and red, her deck well-scrubbed, and her canon always mounted.
Nox was proud of his ship, and now she had served him well once more, the merchant ship laden with treasure.
“This is theft, you are pirates. The Regent himself will hear of this,” the captain declared, squaring up to Nox, who pushed him aside and laughed.
“And will his majesty personally come to hunt us down? By the time you get back to London, we shall be long gone,” Nox said, pointing his men to the crates which lined the deck.
“I suppose you will kill us,” the captain said, and Nox shook his head.
“What kind of man do you take me for? You already told me you were unarmed. I would not strike a man dead when he cannot defend himself. No, Sir, you shall be put off on this island here. It contains all you need to live by, and I am sure a passing ship will pick you up… one day,” he said, slapping the captain heartily on the back, as his men roared with laughter.
“These crates are heavy, Captain Nox, what is in them?” one of the men called out, as the pirates heaved the crates across the deck.
“Open one and see, gold doubloons, perhaps, trading for sugar in the plantations,” Nox replied, and a crate was forced open, revealing just what Nox had expected.
The gold coins gushed out of it, spilling across the deck, and catching the sunlight in a burst of reflective light. Shouts of delight came from the pirates, and the remaining crates were hauled across the planks and onto the deck of The Rosa Mystica.
“Common pirates, you shall pay for your crimes with the gibbet. I hope I am there on the day you hang,” the captain said, but Nox only laughed.
“Would you deprive these men of their livelihoods? It is a mere matter of business. You possess a commodity, and we take that commodity. Simple business, Sir, for we have not harmed you or your men, have we?” he asked, and the captain scowled.
“You interfere with the business of the British Empire,” he began, but Nox spun round and grabbed the man by the lapels, pulling him angrily toward him.
“And that would be the same British Empire that keeps the poor people of these islands enslaved upon their plantations, would it now? What say we hand over this gold to them and set them free?” he said, tossing the man aside and shaking his head.
“Are we to set them in a longboat, Captain Nox?” one of his men asked, and Nox nodded.
“Yes, put them overboard, let them row to the island over there. Sink their ship and we shall be gone,” he said, scowling at the captain who was still muttering his threats.
There were a dozen crates on the deck of the merchant ship, and below, the stores contained rich pickings of food and drink, so that the pirates enjoyed a merry feast that day and soon became drunk.
With the merchant ship sank, they set sail out of the cove, making for an island some three leagues away, a journey which, with a fair wind, took them much of the day.
Nox sat up on deck, watching for ships out to sea and sharing a keg of rum with his friend and mentor Strap.
It had been Strap – an ancient pirate with a long black beard and weather-beaten face – who had raised him, rescuing him, or so he told him, from a stricken ship off the coast of one of the islands when Nox had been only thirteen years old.
He could remember nothing of the time before, knowing only that if it were not for Strap and his men, he would have perished all those years ago.
“A fine haul today,” Strap said, as the sounds of the men carousing echoed over the deck.
“It will see us through the winter,” Nox replied, taking a swig of rum.
The ship was sailing through calm waters, the sun setting upon the horizon, casting its rays across the shimmering ocean.
To their right, lay islands, clusters of dense jungle, with white sandy beaches stretching along their shores, where waves crashed like white horses charging into the battle.
To their right, the vast ocean, deep and mysterious, stretching, it seemed, endlessly into the distance, beyond which lay Europe and Africa.
“And there will be others,” Strap said, raising his glass.
“That is the way of it,” he replied.
They were sitting above where several of the men were drinking, though hidden by the overhang of the deck.
Nox had his own cabin, as befitted the captain of such a vessel, and he liked to sit by the open door in the evening, drinking rum and sharing stories with Strap, who was as much a father to him as any other man had ever been.
He knew nothing of his own parents, nor of his lineage, only that it was Strap to whom he owed his life.
“Why does the captain never allow us to have any fun?” he overheard one man saying.
“You mean slice them through?” another replied.
“Yes, he always shows them mercy, but what mercy do they deserve? We are pirates, we should finish the job,” came the answer.
Nox glanced at Strap, shaking his head, as the old pirate sighed.
“Be careful, Nox, that sounds like mutinous talk to me,” he whispered.
Nox stood up, his hand upon his sword hilt.
He was no coward, but he saw no need in killing for the mere sake of killing.
The captain of the merchant ship that day had offered no resistance.
If he had, then Nox would have run him through, but to kill an unarmed man in cold blood was dishonorable, and Nox had always prided himself upon his honor.
“So,” he said, leaping down from the overhang, and startling the men, “we have ourselves some mutineers, do we?”
The group of pirates leaped to their feet, protesting vehemently against Nox’s accusations, and accusing one another of being culprits in their words.
“We were only saying how we would like a fight, sometimes, Captain,” one of them said, and Nox drew his sword.
“Perhaps you would like to feel the end of this, would you?” he demanded, and the man shook his head.
“No, Captain, not at all, Captain,” he replied faltering, as Nox edged him backwards against one of the crates, the tip of his sword pointing into the man’s chest.
“Good, and we shall have no more of this mutinous talk, not when the ship is full of doubloons, gold, which all of you have a rightful share to,” he said, smiling, as the men hurriedly dispersed.
Strap jumped down next to him, the two of them leaning upon the crates and looking out to sea.
“You find it hard,” Strap said, and Nox looked at him curiously.
He was uncertain what his old mentor could mean by these words. Certainly, life at sea was tough, but Nox had been used to it all his life. The blood which flowed in his veins was salty as the water, and he was happiest with a swift wind at his back and the stars to guide him.
“Find what hard?” he asked, and Strap smiled.
“Being captain. I can see it in you. You have the respect of the men, you have their loyalty, but your passion is not in it any longer. You wonder if there is something more,” he said, and Nox sighed.
He loved the sea, but as the years had gone by, he wondered more about his past. The memories before his rescue by Strap were dim and distant.
Try as he might, he could not recall the faces of his mother and father, nor of his life before he came aboard Strap’s ship.
It was a blur, lost in the mists of time.
Nox wanted desperately to remember, but the harder he tried, the fainter those thoughts became.
“I just… I want to know where I came from,” he replied, gazing out to sea, wondering what the truth about him really was.