3. Up She Rises
"Wa-hey, up she rises,
Wa-hey, up she rises,
Wa-hey, up she rises,
Early in the morning."
- Drunken Sailor, Traditional,
Mary awoke the next morning to a cool breeze passing over her brow, the vague tinge of salt on the air and the idle chit chat from the docks as low hum to her ears. She went to turn over and immediately regretted it, launching into a mighty stream of curses and her shoulder screamed.
Stopping to take a number of deep breaths until it subsided, she opened her eyes, wiping away the dust. The door to the cabin was open, blue skies and sea visible from the square of outside vision it allowed. She glanced to Anne's empty cot, panicking for a moment in case something had happened to her, but her fear was allayed when she heard a voice, singing a saturnine song in an Irish lilt from beyond the door. She liked hearing Anne sing, they were strange unknown songs most of the time, and more often than not sad, but beautiful.
She crossed the threshold a few moments later, dress swaying lightly in the morning air, a few loose strands of hair glowing serenely in the wind.
"Good morning to you," Anne smiled as she walked over to the bed, placing a bottle of rum and a flask of water down beside Mary. "For the pain." She nodded to the bottle of rum.
Mary sat herself up and Anne passed her the water flask, which she drank from thirstily until it had emptied, gasping as she finished it one go. "Thank you."
"That's alright. How is the pain?"
"It aches like I've been hanging from the rigging by one arm all night," Mary replied, gingerly. "I'd take being keelhauled over it anyday."
"That's to be expected... best get some booze down ye," Anne said gently and Mary swigged from the bottle shakily. Anne pulled a mango from her pocket. "Perhaps not on an empty stomach, eh?"
"Thank you," Mary nodded her appreciation, and sat forward on the edge of the bed. The nausea from the pain had subsided and she bit into the mango hungrily. It was gone within a minute and Anne watched the color perk up in her cheeks a bit. Mary had looked a little grey since last night, a grim palor about her skin.
"We should get you some sunlight soon, be good for you," Anne watched Mary's hand shake as she took another swig from the bottle of rum, clinking it down by her feet.
"Right now, booze is good for me," Mary chuckled sarcastically, the bottle clinking as she set it down on the floor, a wave of pain protesting at the movement.
"Whatever works, lass," Anne conceded. "I think Jack wants to talk about some grand plan he's got for today. He's spied a schooner that's due to leave tomorrow that he's taken a bit of a fancy to it so I need to go and talk him out of doing anything bloody-minded."
"This is Jack we're talking about, aye?"
"I know, I know. I can but try to dissuade him and his foibles," Anne smiled.
"I'll come with you. Let him revel in the one and only time he beat James Kidd," Mary suggested.
"Well, alright. Let's get you up proper, shall we?"
Anne helped Mary to dress, re-tying her wraps and re-slinging her arm across her chest, before managing to get at least one arm into both her shirt and coat. Mary gritted her teeth through the process, with Anne apologising profusely. Finally, the other sleeve hung limply on the side and Anne helped her comb her back and tied it up, before tying the bandana across her forehead.
She stood before Jim, as he sat before her and pulled him to his feet, looking him up and down for a moment. "And there's the handsome James Kidd. Let's go."
Mary smiled from behind James for a moment, before following Anne out the door and into the daylight.
They headed for The Old Avery, Mary occasionally swaying dizzily. Gently, Anne looped her arm through Mary's, to support her, while making it look like Anne herself was being escorted by a gentleman. As covers went, it worked well.
From down the street, Mary and Anne could see Jack, addressing a table of about ten sailors, stood with his knee on a stool, hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. As they approached, his voice carried tones in the shade of promises of riches.
"... it'll be an easy take, lads, and if that's not enough for you, I hear it's carrying enough rum to sink a fishing boat!"
James looked from Jack, where he wove a net of promise over the sailors, to Anne, who wore a deep frown.
"And here's the lad, now!" Jack called as the pair approached and he met James' eyes while still speaking to his captive audience. "Let's say... Jim and I had a very gentlemanly disgreement as to how much rum would truly sink a boat. Fortunately, for me my right hook is mightier but Jim truly is William Kidd's bastard. A devil in a rage and mark my words, one to seldom cross."
"Aye, only thing that saved you a broken rib was your dandy coat," Mary followed his lead, if a little flatly to drive the point home. Nevertheless the sailors roared heartily, slurping from tankards and bottles as Mary and Anne joined the table.
"To James Kidd!" Jack thrust his tankard in the air, beer spilling over the edges. "Right bastard. Good man."
James felt his cheeks flush as the sailors all turned to him, tankards clinking in the air.
Jack shuffled for a moment as a large insect buzzed about his head. He muttered a few curses as he swatted it away, to the amusement of the sailors.
"Where was I... ah, yes. On riches and plunder," He swayed, gesturing extravagantly. "Tonight, lads, we take the William!"
"Hear, hear!" Infused with the atmosphere, Jim raised the tankard that another sailor had placed before him amidst the other raised tankards. The tug in his heart at the prospect of another unpredictable and hopefully prosperous journey at sea reeled him in by the soul and hooked his mind. It was fortunate that getting out to sea served another purpose, the proverbial two birds, one stone.
Anne who had remained quiet until now, looked sideways to James.
"Jim, you're not thinking about joining them? Look at you," Anne whispered, her voice one of concern. "You're in no shape for this folly."
He turned to her, hushedly. "I have to Anne. I have... official business of sorts and I need passage."
"But, now...?" Anne looked down at the sling and back to his eyes.
"It's not ideal, but it'll have to do," James was insistent, putting his tankard down in front of him. "I can still wield my blade well enough with one arm."
"James..." Anne sighed, watching the same fire in James' eyes flare, every time he spoke of "official business" or the sea. "This is madness."
"It is. I'll not deny you that," James conceded. "But a necessary madness. I'm sorry, Anne."
Anne pulled a face, before speaking decisively. "Aye, Jim. But I'm coming with you." She saw James about to disagree but cut him off before he could begin. "You've only got one bloody arm right now. I'll be the other."
James paused and considered this, knowing that she would not be dissuaded. He was convincing her to become as he was. As she was. There was no better time to start, given the circumstances.
"Well... you know your own mind, as I know mine," James spoke softly. "At least let me train you first."
"We have until sunset."
"It will do."
As the sun, sank lower on the horizon, the steady clang of metal rung out across the sand. The water swayed gently at the edge of the empty beach. The grains were steadily tussled by Anne's dancing feet as she darted this way and that, avoiding James' sword as they parried.
"When you see a man tense to attack," James' lunged forward with a light swing of his sword. "Go against your instinct. Relax around it."
"How does that help?" Anne panted, as she fended off the swing, hair swaying over her shoulder. The clang sent a shockwave through James and he leant over for a minute, raising his fingers from his sword in temporary surrender. The pain rattled his bones and his shoulder, and he breathed tightly through his nose for a moment.
"You'll be able to move out of the way and... see where he's going to go, where he'll swing for next," He explained, breathing around the pain.
"Alright... do you need to stop?" Anne walked over, sheathing the cutlass, resting her hand on his good shoulder.
"Aye, jus' for a minute," He ambled to the palm tree nearby and leant against it wearily, Anne following.
"Jim..." Anne stood by him for a moment, watching him work through the pain. That afternoon, they had begun with the wedding flintlock, taking out empty bottles on crates. He was a good teacher and after a few rounds, Anne was hitting most of them. She learnt to relax her arm against the kickback and managed to not break a thumb in the process, enjoying the shattering glass ringing out, a shower of shards scattering over the sand.
She had also taken James by surprise, when as he walked over to inspect the array of glass, impressed by her progress, the bang of the gun had sounded and a crab that had been scuttling away less than a foot away from him suddenly flew up and over one of the crates. A stream of curses from James and a cocky smile from Anne, and they knew her aim was fair.
Now, James looked tired. Anne continued. "Are you sure you want to do this tonight?"
"You know my mind is unchangeable. I need a stake in that ship for..."
"Official business, I know." Anne replied. He had repeated this to her many times this afternoon and he smiled up at her.
"I'm sure, Anne. Your shot's grand and your parrying is as up to scratch as I can get it with the little time we have to prepare," James leaned heavily against the tree and Anne leaned beside him as they took a moment to rest and watch the waves tease the sands.
Unexpectedly, a voice spoke from nearby, a soft, almost muted accent. "That is a fine sword technique you have there, Miss Bonny."
They both looked up to see one of Jack's new crew, stood watching them, a crate of shot for the raid in his arms. No more than thirty years of age, he wore mousey brown hair in a loose ponytail, strands loose and flailing in the gentle breeze. A scar coursed over the edge of his lips and his facial hair was trimmed to frame the sides of his face.
"Thank you," Anne nodded appreciatively. None of the other sailors passing had said anything about her, a woman, practicing parrying with a cutlass until now. She watched his face, looking for any malicious intent, yet she found none. She suddenly found herself beaming from within - a compliment for her skills and not her assets. In that moment, she began to understand what James had meant when he explained why he favored living as himself.
The man looked from James to Anne, pondering for a moment, before placing his crate down. "Would you like to parry? I see Kidd here is weary and I can probably spare a few minutes before Jack gets pissed off."
Anne looked to James and then to the sailor, his expression remained open and unthreatening. James nodded, seeing an opportunity to test what Anne had learnt and grateful for being able to rest without giving Anne cause for concern.
"If you can spare a few minutes, I'd be glad to," Anne said, a wry smile spreading about her face. "I'll warn you, this is new to me."
The sailor nodded. "Of course," he said, placing the crate down and shaking his arms free of the ache of carrying it. He drew his cutlass from his waist and raised it straight up in front of his eyes. Instinctively, his left arm rested behind him in a gentle fist. James watched this and knowingly smiled as Anne drew her cutlass in turn.
"Ready?" He asked, as they stood a few paces from eachother.
"Aye," Anne nodded, adrenalin already rushing through her veins. She lunged forward and the parrying began.
James observed as Anne blocked and moved as he had taught her, defensively at first, blocking shots as they came before waiting for him to relax his attack, taking the opportunity to startle the sailor with a run of blows. He parried these, surprised at the sudden rush and a little unprepared.
Anne didn't just parry - she danced with the sword, finding the place in her mind, the focus that James recognised from himself. As she skirted left and right smoothly moving around the sailor's lunges. He wondered then if she too had the sight; her eyes never missed a nuance in the sailor's body language, which currently read surprise.
A short while and several clangs later, Anne brought her cutlass around against the sailor's, clipping it upwards and sending his blade clattering to the sand. He raised his hands with a surprised smile, and she grinned dangerously with her cutlass pointing at his solar plexus for a moment, before sheathing it.
"I've fought soldiers with less skill. Well done, Miss Bonny," He said earnestly, holding out his hand warmly. She gripped it courteously, thanking him.
James spoke up with a knowing smile and the pair turned to him, where he was now propped up and looking less pained. "Takes one to know one, right?"
"How do you mean?" The sailor replied, re-tying his cumberbund.
"You haven't always used a cutlass like that, aye?" James said, folding his one good arm across himself.
The sailor taken back by James' sharp observation, nodded. "This is true. I was a soldier once."
"So was I. Your technique is familiar. Reminds me of the Dutch soldiers." James continued, now stroking his jaw.
"I am from Flanders. Left the Dutch navy a few years ago." He explained, impressed by James' eye for a soldier, before glancing up as Jack's voice called out from near the dock.
"What're you bloody doing, Dutchie? The ship won't load itself!"
"Well, I should go. Again, you are skilled with a sword, Miss Bonny," The sailor nodded before he leant down, hauling the crate into his arms and nodding to them both. "See you later on."
"Thank you for your time, lad," James nodded, appreciatively as he turned about heel with the crate. "What's your name?"
"Lodewyc." He called over his shoulder, heading towards the crowd of sailors on the dock by Jack's ship. "The others call me Ludo."
Anne and James watched the Flemish man stroll away in silence for a moment, before noting the sailors were now all gathering by the Matthias, as the setting sun cast long shadows at their feet.
"Time to sink or swim, I 'spose," Anne exhaled nervously.
The sky was now a mid blue, the stars breaking through the warm air lightly and a gentle breeze carried over the Matthias as it sat at the docks. The crew shuffled around busily, taking care of menial tasks in preparation to set sail, light song breaking out here and there amongst them.
Walking towards the steps that led up to the wheel, Jack strode forward, Anne two steps behind with James following slower so as not to intrude yet offer support if necessary.
"You're staying, Anne. A ship's no place for a woman," Jack shut her down as he reached the wheel, bemused by her request to join his crew as a sailor, a pirate.
If only you knew. Anne bit back the retort to spare James, where he turned and sat on the steps, wearing a face of concern as he listened to the conversation. He adjusted his coat where it hung loosely over his injured shoulder. The low level of alcohol he had maintained to get through the day was wearing off and he felt muzzy-headed as he breathed in the sticky evening air.
"Forgive me, Captain, but she is a fearsome devil with a sword," the quiet Flemish sailor spoke up from where he readied the nearest cannon.
"And my left arm," James piped up from where he sat, adding weight to Anne's request.
"That may be, but the crew will be too distracted by her wiles." Jack explained casting an eye to Anne's chest, a slight smile breaking the corner of his mouth.
"If a man chooses to observe her... wiles instead of the blade pressed to his chest, he deserves to be cut." Ludo spoke, perching against the cannon.
"Oi, Dutchie! Are you looking at my lady's wiles?" Jack sauntered down the steps in good humor but maintained a physical and subtly threatening presense, warning Ludo off as he unconsciously placed himself between him and Anne.
The Flemish man tilted his head to the side, looking past him. "Perhaps the better question is... are you?"
Jack spun about to follow Ludo's gaze to find Anne directly behind, stood with poise and confidence before him, cutlass brandished before her at Jack's neck level, flintlock pointed squarely at his stomach and wearing a face of sheer grit, adorned by a wry smile from James behind her.
"Well, when you put it like that..." Jack raised an eyebrow and swore he could not have loved Anne more than he did in that moment. He broke his reverie to dreamily speak. "Fine. Are the cannons ready, Dutchie?"
"Flemish," Ludo replied nonchalantly from behind him.
"Bless you. Are the cannons ready?" He spoke without looking at Ludo as he strode up the steps and past James.
"Aye, captain," Ludo nodded dutifully. James smiled. Once a soldier...
"What's your name, man?" Jack paused halfway up to look at the Flemish man over his shoulder.
"Lodewyc van der Velde."
"Exaaaactly! Dutch." Jack waved his hands in a flourish to exemplify his point, before striding up the steps and taking the wheel, raising a hand and shouting to the crew. "We set sail in five minutes!"
James cheered somewhat unenthusiastically from where he sat, his hand running over his flintlock nervously. Anne stood on the step beside him, hanging the cutlass loosely from one hand and placing the other on his shoulder. He looked up at her and they shared a nervous smile, wondering what would come of this night.
Thanks for the reviews so far! Hope you're enjoying it. This chapter was originally 16 pages so, I've split this one in two. Gets a little bloodthirsty next time!