I am afraid of the ocean and its' very deep dark depths. So, to suffer the misfortune of abduction by pirate was far worse when ones greatest fear surrounds them. But, I skip ahead of myself. I was quite happy on land before all that. Not wonderfully or blessedly but quite happy. Happy enough to tide me over through life. Pleased with the security my life brought me. In fact, relieved that I had very little to fear for where I lived my greatest phobias was difficult to become reality. It is rather awkward when one fears the ocean, volcanoes, disease, famine, spiders... My mother and father were rather well off; I was quite protected from it all. I say well off… father had a knighthood and owned most of the land on the island of Cultarga on which we lived. Eighty years before, the island was nothing more than that. An island. With a few birds and very little else. My grandfather landed there from England, began to grow sugar cane, and raised a new trade route from nothing and the place flourished. He named it, developed it, grew his business and was able to sell it off once rich enough and began to build and rent out housing and retail. The island now buzzes with life, the port large enough to dock three large ships at a time. And my father inherited it all. Served the king, became a knight and returned to his homestead to look over the island that was all his own and now had a population of over 7,000.
That is who I am, Flora Cultarga, daughter of Sir Bevis and Lady Deseree, heiress to the island of Cultarga. And terrified of most things.
Well… semi-heiress. A mere technicality due to my sex disables me from inheriting the land without a suitable husband of who's name must be beside mine on the document. Said husband must be chosen, studied and approved by my parents and then I will be certain to gain my birth right in the wake of my father's death. I will have full access but will be supervised by my husband.
My parents had done just that. They had found me Lord Edgar Starkwright. Papa very much liked him. He was of good breeding, vast fortune and great name. Sir Bevis Cultarga could find no better man for his beloved daughter. Edgar wanted nothing more than to marry me. Such a gain would allow him a town-based home in Port Royale and a grand mansion with the majority of land on Cultarga. A wise investment indeed.
When Edgar proposed, he made it rather clear that he expected no other answer and assumed that I was game. Not only did he not get down on one knee, he took my hand and placed the ring upon my finger, stating plainly, "I would say it was about time."
Mother had told me how father had returned from war and proposed to her in the rose garden of her own parents French chateau on a summers evening, the sweet smell of blooms overwhelming and luscious. She said it was like a dream; a man she knew intimately, of whom her family barely approved, with a questionable inheritance but bravery like no other, kissing her and saying sweetly, softly that he desired her hand in marriage. That no heart could beat beside his but her very own. Never had she been more in love than she was then. He in uniform, devotion not only in his eyes but shone through his very soul, oozed from his being. It was love.
I thought of that then, the tightness of the large, ruby, diamond encaged engagement ring on my finger seeming to squeeze also at my heart. It was the first time I had felt a glimmer of doubt. My English blood helped me supress it deep within. Although the image of my parents now did not inspire the notion of passionate love, I could believe it of them young. Now, they were shadows of who they once were; that wild romance today a deep, solid loyalty. They loved one another; there was no doubt about it. They were one.
Somehow, I could not imagine that with Edgar. For a moment after the ring was on my finger I desperately desired to be in a rose garden and not the parlour. I wanted romantic evenings, not after breakfast proposals of marriage. I wanted the intimacy, the whispers between lovers. Never had I had that. Never would I have that. But this was the simplest way to a simple life. A secure, safe marriage would bring me what I wanted. Did such a life wait upon my horizon?
My simple life was disrupted a week following the engagement. My mother and I were in the day room that afternoon, with the wedding planners, she wanted to make the fairy-tale of my special day. And secretly I was relieved. She knew that deep down, that was all I would want. So I let her go about the proposals and nodded when required.
It was not engrossing however, so I did not miss the low rumble of a warning cannon. The room fell silent. Mother seemed to take a moment to gather herself before rising from her chair. There were no cannons yet on Cultarga; they were in fact on a ship making passage from England, on their way but, clearly, too late. Standing with her, I dashed towards the window overlooking the harbour and saw, to my surprise, in the distance a grand, ragged ship approaching. Its sails grey and tattered and its frame weathered it was like no navy or cargo ship I had seen at our port. From its appearance, it was not long before it was clear to me to whom that kind of boat would belong to and a flood of dread that turned my stomach came over me. Pirates.
Glancing at mother, I knew by her expression that this was very far from a good thing. An eighty year old island with such humble beginnings had not established a firm and effective naval protection; it was still developing every day. The army and police that did serve the island were fair and plenty but certainly not the most well-practiced. Even the guards about our estate would be underqualified to handle a situation like this. Father, a knight and soldier had been able to hire only so much protection on his island from the Kings army as his majesty would allow.
"It's only one ship," I spoke softly as it rode across the sea towards us at an unnervingly greater speed than I would have assumed capable.
From behind me, mother sneered fearfully "One ship of pirates it too many." And before I had a chance to see her face, there was a rustle of skirts and she was fleeing the room. I excused the wedding planners before following nervously in haste. Struck by her response, it was her attitude that was perhaps the final proof of how serious a situation this was.
I found her, clinging to fathers arm in the wide open front doorway of the entrance hall. Father was barking orders at his captain of the guard. As the guard stalked determinedly away, I was descending the staircase cautiously.
"What foolish pirates would attack in broad daylight?" Mother hissed, peering desperately into fathers face, her wide bright blue eyes, very much like my own, glistening. Her face was still dignified and beautiful, even when strained with fear.
From what I could see through the doorway, the ship was lowering many boats for its people to land upon our shores. It would not be long before they successfully invaded.
Father did not look at her when he finally replied, a dark, regretful look upon his tired, strong-jawed face, "Pirates with nothing to fear"