Chapter 2/ Pirates and devils
Omar was a man with deep troubles. The weathered captain stood on the deck of his old ship in worn clothing, staring out at the finer ships in the harbor with naked jealousy. The small dark man of Middle East decent had spent so many years at sea in many places; his speech carried the sound of no distinct accent, and his clothing was a combination of the offerings of Mediterranean port bazaars.
Omar was a very poor pirate. The days of treasure chests with gold and jewels were over. His normal booty now comprised more practical and less valuable goods, things his crew could steal off docks or from small ships they could overtake in his worn ship.
The captain's chief concern was an enormous debt to be paid to an Egyptian import house. If it could not be cleared, the man would have Omar barred from trading in the city. The less questioning merchants all knew each other. Losing black market access would rob him of his already meager living.
Omar also had a master, with greater demands. This master wanted information. He wanted the use of ports and ships and contacts across the sea all the way west to England. Those things the impoverished pirate did not have access to, but Omar was to gain it, anyway.
He discovered a possibility while in Sicily. A new merchant ship was on tour, the property of the Highland Trade Company. The ship, the Mary Kate, sailed with only a small crew. It was a wealthy company with new ships and an old reputation. If Omar took the ship and its contents, he could sell everything he found aboard to the Egyptian and keep the ship for himself. All the papers and documentation he found aboard would go to his master. He sent word to his master of his plans. The answering message complicated the matter. The master wanted the captain and owner as well. That could be done, but with much more danger.
Omar began his plan, finding the ship's next port of call. He sailed there ahead of her and watched the vessel for an opportunity, which came when the owner and the captain went ashore for a party at a wealthy merchant's home.
Omar and his men followed the English couple to the merchant's party. He sent a Turkish crewman into the party in a servant's dress with a potion for the lady. The Turk had to see that she drank as much as possible.
The seaman came back later, smiling. "I gave it to her in between dances, Captain. She finished it all."
Only half an hour later, their quarry left the party. The potion caused the lady to become sick rather than sleepy. That rarely happened, but it worked at getting them back to the ship.
Omar allowed the captain and lady to go below decks before ordering the attack. The pirates rushed the gangplank and overcame the watch with sheer numbers. The defenders did not go down easily. These were fierce fighters. The captain came back to the deck to lead the defense. Even so, it was a losing battle. Omar ordered all the English sailors thrown overboard as his men unmoored the vessel. Unfortunately, one of his men pushed the captain over the side with his crew. They could not stop and go back to him.
"Well, I still have the woman."
The lady was found half on and half off her bed, oblivious to the battle.
Omar pushed her further onto the bed so she would not fall out, leaving her with a guard at the door for the night.
By dawn, the stolen clipper and the pirate ship were well into the open seas. Omar ordered the ship stripped of everything that could be sold. It was a fine vessel with cabins for passengers furnished and decorated with fine appointments. Even the crew's cabins were well turned out. Everything was broken down and placed in his own hold, but the ship's sails and stores.
The captain's cabin had a safe and an abundance of papers. Those were boxed and taken aboard his ship as well, for the master. Omar was feeling a surge of pride and victory he rarely had a right to these days. The master will be most pleased.
Omar had left the lady alone all day. His guard said she was still sleeping, so wasn't fed. He forgot all about her while emptying the ship of valuables. But past midday, a crewman came running up the deck, crying out for his captain to come quickly. His men, striping cabins, had gone into the woman's room. They had meant to wake her and remove all the furnishings, but the lady would rouse.
Worried, Omar rushed in. The English woman was in the same position as he had last seen her, as pale as death. She did not appear to be breathing. A sour smell greeted him, attesting that the woman had been sick again in the night.
Omar cursed his bad luck, wondering how he had angered the fates so. His prisoner was dead or near dead. He had lost the captain and her. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to run, sail far away into another sea. He dropped his head. No point, the master had a long reach.
The demoralized captain ordered the body removed from the bed so the furniture could be taken. The men wrapped the lady in the sheet and laid her on the carpet. One worker asked if they should throw the body over the side.
He stared at the body, sullen, furious at his cursed existence. "No." Omar said. "Roll her up in the carpet. She will be sold with everything else."
It would make the vile little man angry, but Omar did not care anymore. His master was not one to accept failure. If he died, the body would be his parting curse against the thieving trader. If I live?
No, my death is assured.