Chapter 14
25 February, 1660
The next morning I left with my sailors aboard the Buxom Wench and sailed due west for Saint Martin, a few sailors grumbling about my use of Shang as quartermaster and sailing under the rule of a yellow devil but I dismissed them. I hadn't made it official, mainly because I knew such grumblings were bound to happen and even Shang seemed hesitant to lead white men over it. Still, drills were ran to train the crew in firing the guns but reloads still seemed to drag far too long which I found irritating.
Still, we pulled into Saint Martin later that evening with a crew that seemed too pooped to party and was content to call it a day. No messenger from the governor appeared to whisk me away and the whole port seemed rather dead to me but long practice in small towns told me there was plenty of life here, they were just waiting with primed guns behind curtains for the other shoe to drop.
Still, I was here for a crew and with night falling knew the time was right for a call on the local tavern. With the ship's Articles in hand, I wound my way through the unfamiliar port until I found a tavern sign and went inside to find it a warm and inviting place. Two barmaids and a few sailors could be seen as I shut the door, and I approached the older of the two barmaids, a woman about my age with bright red hair.
"Greetings, major," she said as I approached, and I was glad I had decided to wear my uniform to fend off any who might attack. "Care for a drink, or do you want some of my time?"
"Grog, please," I told the woman who smiled at me as she turned sultrily and swayed her hips as she walked as if to entice me. She went behind the counter and poured out a measure of grog that she sat on the bar for me before leaning it over to give me a rather good view of her cleavage. "Thank you, madam."
"Ariel, please," she said with a soft chuckle as she introduced herself.
"Major Owen Hunt, privateer and owner of the Buxom Wench," I said as I introduced myself when the other barmaid, a young, almost pre-teen aged girl with raven black hair approached and refilled two mugs with grog.
"Major," the raven haired youngster said as she sauntered away swaying her hips.
"She's..." Ariel said as she watched my long stare and I brought my eyes back to her to see her uneasy state. "She's not quite ready yet."
"Still an innocent," I said as an old seventies movie I had once seen came to mind called Pretty Baby. It was definitely a product of its time and featured a twelve year old Brooke Shields as a child prostitute and was the biggest push to criminalize pornography of children. "You're her mother?"
"Yeah," Ariel said as she turned to watch the youngster chat with some sailors. "My little Melody. She has her father's hair."
"I'm sorry," I said as I figured the wistful look she now had meant he had passed. Ariel bowed her head and nodded, and I figured she, like Megara had once been, was just trying to survive in the world. That she had a youngster didn't help matters much.
"No family to help?" I asked and Ariel shook her head.
"They...they wouldn't take me back," Ariel finally admitted. "I wasn't supposed to leave, let alone leave with Eric and I fear what they might do to me or Melody if we ever venture back that way again."
"I'm sorry," I said again as I looked for an empty table and found several. "I'm here to sign on crew, so if I might have a table?"
"Sure," Ariel said with a smile. "Take your pick. It's been a little slow with Hook harassing shipping from the colonies. Some sailors left, but I don't know how many you might convince to join you."
"Thank you," I said as I took my mug of grog and headed to a table by the fireplace and set myself up for a wait. Almost immediately two men approached me, a short and thin one with reddish hair while the other was taller than me and heavier set with dark colored hair.
"Looking for sailors?" the reddish haired man asked me in a conversational tone.
"All I can get," I admitted. "Care to sign up?"
"I would," he immediately hedged, "But I got these two friends. They're...they're former slaves. Both are good fighters and can take orders, we're just looking to get out of here and to somewhere better. Maybe back to Africa."
"That's fine with me," I told the pair, really not caring about a person's skin tone. "I treat everyone the same and they all get the same wages for it."
"Good," the reddish haired man said as he took my feathered pen and wrote his name on the articles before his rotund friend did like was.
"I'm Timon, this here's Pumbaa," the man said as he introduced themselves.
"Pleased to meet ya," Pumbaa said as he extended his hand. I shook it, liking the man's attitude as a friendly sort that matched my own.
"We'll go get 'em," Timon said as he and his buddy turned to go. "Most people have a problem with them being in town so they stay on the outskirts where we set up camp."
"I'll be here for hours," I told him as I looked around at the others in the tavern as the pair left. No other sailors seemed interested at the moment, a few that had been nearby leaving as the night wore on.
It was almost an hour and a half later when the tavern door opened and someone entered. My first thoughts that it might be Timon with his friends was lost as I got a look at the pair and saw their bronze colored skin was too light for an African person. Arabic maybe, considering the one was in loose fitting pants and wore only a vest and a fez with a monkey on his back but it was his companion I was more interested in.
Shorter and more spare, his companion was hidden under a fancy embroidered hooded cloak of sky blue that hid their features. At first thought I placed it as a woman of the Islamic faith, a feeling that strengthened when I saw the woman's face under the hood and that she, like her male companion, had bronze colored skin. He talked with Ariel for only a moment before heading my way, the woman trailing behind him with her head down.
"I hear you are looking for crew?" he said fluently. "My name is Aladdin and I'm a sailor."
"All you have to do is sign your name," I told him as I handed him the feathered pen.
"You provide food, pay?" he asked as he looked the Articles over.
"Food, yes," I told him as I snuck a glance at the woman who hid under her cloak and said nothing. "You'll sleep on the ship with the rest of the crew, even in port until either you decide to leave or I end the voyage at the end of the year."
That sparked a fierce debate between the two in a language I could only guess was Arabic, but it was the fierceness of the woman's tone that made me take most note. It seemed while she had no problem playing meek and gentle, she would, and could, chew you a new one with just her tongue.
"I sail with you!" she finally spat in English to the man. "I'm not staying behind or going in a crate again!"
"You know how to sail?" I asked her, glad the guy with her was momentarily stunned into silence. The woman pulled back her hood to reveal her face to the room, and more importantly me, as she looked me dead in the eye and responded.
"No, but I'm a fast learner," she said in a defiant tone as if to dare question her ability.
"Ships are no place for a woman," the man insisted to her to make her turn an accusatory stare at him. "Your hands will get rough like mine and the men are coarse and vulgar."
"He is right about the last two," I told her as I took in what I thought might be her silken attire and it's obvious fine quality. I didn't know who she was, but she wasn't from a poor family. "You'll be climbing rigging at the very least and your hands will callous and become rough handling the lines. You'll probably end up with some rope burns as well. Your finery won't last aboard a ship."
"I will do what it takes," she said in a resolute tone as she faced off with me again. "But I am not leaving the man I love after riding in a crate in the belly of a xebec to get here!"
"Sounds like you got spirit enough," I said as the man signed off on the sheet. He wrote his name in his native language before handing the pen to me. I offered it the woman and she offered a brief smile before signing her own in the same language, then added a single word in English after it.
"I am Aladdin," the man said as he bowed to me. "My wife..."
"Jasmine," the woman said as she cut off her apparent husband and introduced herself.
"I'm Major Owen Hunt," I told the pair. "If you want, you can get a measure to drink and wait for me to complete my business or you can head to the Buxom Wench now."
"We'll...wait," Aladdin said as he looked to Jasmine. The pair shared a look before moving off where Melody took their order. Things seemed to quiet down for a time before Ariel came to sit next to me.
"Did you really sign her on?" she asked me as she looked to Jasmine.
"I did," I told Ariel as I pointed out Jasmine's neat scrawl on the Articles.
"You'll sail with a woman?" Ariel asked me incredulously. "You're not afraid of bad luck?"
"I don't believe in that," I told her and her mouth fell open. "Besides, there are jobs aboard a ship any woman can do that require no real strength."
"Name four," Ariel said a bit sarcastically.
"Lookout in the crow's nest, gun crew captain, cook, cabin boy, powder monkey, helmsman or just a plain old swabbie," I named off in rapid succession and I could see her get an uncertain look all of a sudden as she turned to look at Melody. When she looked back at me, she still seemed uncertain but, eager maybe?
"She gets a full share?" Ariel asked me and I nodded.
"Same basic job, same basic pay," I responded. "We'll likely have to teach her to use a sword so she doesn't get killed during boarding and can protect herself, but that's about it. I'll likely give her a pistol to help with that when I find one."
"Oh," Ariel said, her face falling a bit. "Would you be interested in two more?"
"Sure," I said as I looked Ariel over. She was thin but didn't seem overly weak and I turned the Articles to face her. "I'm assuming you're taking Melody with you?"
"Yes," Ariel said as she signed off with her name. "You want me to sign it for her or have her do it?"
"Be best if she does it," I said and Ariel called Melody over. When presented with the Articles, Melody made a face.
"But mother," Melody protested like a typical teen. "First I have to work here all day where you watch me like a hawk now I have to go sailing? I'd rather stay here and work."
"No!" Ariel hissed at her daughter. "You'll go where I say until you get married. I'm hoping I can at least get you some money to improve your chances!"
"Mother," the teen protested but Ariel gave her daughter an intense stare. "Fine."
"Better," Ariel said as her daughter signed off on the Articles. "We'll go get packed. I'm sure we'll be wanted aboard ship."
"That's my intention," I told her as Ariel stood from her chair and led an angry teen from the room and up the stairs. I almost missed Timon and Pumbaa returning as I downed the last of my grog. In tow with him were indeed two dark skinned Africans, like there were any other types at this point in history, and I had to admit it did look like the pair could fight even if one was a woman. The guy was tall, broad in shoulder and very muscular with no signs of visible fat while his female companion was a head shorter and was lean with taut muscles. Both carried cutlasses and wore their hair short and in some ways seemed more warrior than sailor unlike Timon and Pumbaa who were more sailor than warrior.
"Here they are," Timon said as he presented the pair then chuckled nervously. "I might have not mentioned..."
"Make your mark," I told the pair, handing the pen first to the lady to make my intention clear to sign both as they were.
"Oh good," Timon said as the lady made her mark which was indeed a mark and not a name as she drew a cat. "They really can handle themselves in a fight. I've seen it."
"I'd hate to see what took them down," I remarked as the man made his mark of what looked like three claw marks.
"My uncle didn't want the competition," the man told me, his voice light and almost airy in stark contrast to his body. "He sold me and my intended to the white men so that he could keep my father's throne and squash the rebellion against him."
"I'd imagine you want revenge for that," I replied but the man shook his head.
"Too much water to cross and the bridge is burnt," he said before looking down at his fiance. "I have what I want though."
"Yeah," Timon said nervously as he rubbed at the back of his neck in what might be a nervous tick. "We'll be outside..."
"I think we're done here anyway," I said as I rolled up the Articles as Ariel and Melody came back down the stairs with a seaman's chest between them. Ariel had also taken a moment to change her clothes into a pair of pants and wore a cutlass at her side, both probably late mementos of her late husband though Ariel hadn't talked of him while Melody still wore her dress.
"What, you're signing up everyone?!" Timon exclaimed once Ariel and Melody set the chest down as I stood from the table.
"Madam," Pumbaa bowed as he saw Jasmine and Aladdin join us as well.
"Gentleman, ladies," I said to gather everyone's attention. "This is Jasmine and Aladdin who will also be joining us on this voyage."
"My dear," Timon said with a bow while the African pair nodded in respect.
"And these are Ariel and Melody," I said to introduce the other two women.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Timon said as he tried to act a gentleman. "These two fine specimens of warfare are Simba and Nala from the Kiburi tribe."
"Let me get that for you, miss," Simba said as he bent down and picked up the chest with no effort.
"Thank you," Ariel said with a smile.
"Everyone got what they needed?" I asked as I began to lead the group out of the tavern when a man ran out from the back room as he caught sight of the group.
"I forbid you from leaving!" the man bellowed as he grabbed Melody by the hair.
"Get your hand off my daughter!" Ariel said as she attempted to draw her cutlass but got it locked in the scabbard as she tried to twist and draw against her body. She didn't need it anyhow as before I even knew what was going on Pumbaa decked the man a heavy fist to leave him dazed and empty handed on the floor.
"That's no way to treat a lady," Pumbaa remarked as he stood over the man.
"Ariel..." the man said before gasping as Ariel finally got her cutlass free and pointed its sharp tip at his throat.
"Say it," she seethed as she stood there, almost shaking from her quiet rage. "You've had me for the last time."
"I, uh, I..." he began to stammer but Ariel pressed the tip to his flesh and he shut up.
"We're leaving, and if you try to stop me or my daughter from leaving, you pig, I'll cut what's most dear to you," she silently spat, backing away before turning and trying to sheath her cutlass with both hands. Without further word, we filed out of the tavern and headed to the Wench but I could still see Ariel shaking and holding her arms about herself as we walked and I began to put the pieces of her life together in mind and didn't like the story it told.
Still, when my new crew members saw the ship I owned they let out a few whistles of approval.
"Would you look at that?" Timon said in an awestruck voice.
"Twenty-four guns, Timon," Pumbaa said in a similar tone.
"Small, fast, nimble," Timon said nodding his head. "And a deadly broadside for her class."
"She's lovely," Ariel said as we made our way up the ramp.
"A powerful ship," Simbaa agreed.
"Took it from the English, I did," I told them as I ran a hand over the railing. "The Buxom Wench, a Royal sloop with twenty-four guns and crew enough to use them."
"I'd say this job just got a lot more inviting," Timon said as he ran a hand lovingly over a cannon.
"Grab a hammock and get some sleep," I told the new arrivals. "Tomorrow we head out."
The new crew all wearily slogged off for some sleep, but a look to the starless sky overhead told me that tomorrow would be a stormy day and not likely conducive to the best of sailing. I blew out a sigh as I headed for my cabin, deciding already that unless the storm was too severe, I was going to head out and south by south-east and test my new warship out.
It was high time I got back to work.