Endless Adventure

The Pirate's Heart - Jaylie Wright

I slide my skin tight leather pants on first, tucking the cut-off edge of a former petticoat into the pants. Strapping it tightly, I place a leather holster onto my thigh and slip my black powder pistol and knife into their respective sleeves. I wrap a black leather corset around my waist snugly before adding a white linen one over it, pulling the strings just tight enough to keep it on.

It really is ridiculous that I have to do this. I would normally be finished dressing and out the door by now! But no. Today, I have to add more layers.

I roll thick stockings up my feet and over the bottoms of my pants. Quickly, I slip pantaloons over my leather pants and make sure the black leather is hidden beneath. Like the lady I supposedly am, I step into my hoops and bustle before bringing my dress down over the ensemble, tying the sleeves of the dress over the sleeves of my shortened petticoat. Carefully, I slide my feet into the narrow, heeled white boots with lace trim before tying them. Never will I be used to the slick bottoms of women’s footwear! Grabbing a lavender silk ribbon and tying it around my neck, I check my reflection in the mirror in my dressing room to make sure my appearance is befitting a lady of society.

I huff at the thought.

Carefully, I made my way down the spiral staircase of my manor and greeted my footman at the entryway. He has already stowed my luggage in the cargo hold of my carriage and has readied my home for my departure. I glance back and feel my heart constrict as I gaze upon the upstairs window with white eyelet curtains before returning my attention to the carriage. As I sit in my seat within the carriage, I draw a deep breath to calm my restless body.

Truth be told, I should already be aboard my ship, but the king himself has insisted upon a meeting to ensure the validity of my business. Afterall, it isn’t every day that a woman runs the most successful fleet of vessels in the world! Yet here I am, the lone child of a successful merchantman. Most men would have left their fleet and business to a second in command or the husband of his daughter, but my father was never one to believe that being born without a p***s weakened a person or made her any less able.

Once we arrive at the palace gate, a royal guard approaches our carriage. I gently pull open the curtain to allow the guard to speak to me.

“What is your business, my lady?” He asks stiffly, his face void of emotion. The palm of his right hand rests ready on the pommel and his fingertips on the grip of his sword in case he needs to draw it.

“The king has requested a meeting with me on this morning. I am Lady Clemente.” My voice is firm and confident, but gentle to uphold ladylike conduct.

“Permit passage!” The guard calls out loudly as he steps back so we may pass him.

The iron gate creaks as the guards begin to swing it open. As it clears the drive, it groans and comes to a stop. Clearly, no one would be able to open it without alerting the entire castle!

The carriage comes to a stop in front of the large, wooden double doors at the front of the castle. Their intricate carvings are a lavish show of wealth to anyone who may pass through them. As I near the doors, I remind myself of appearance and refrain from tracing the lines of the beautiful floral patterns with my fingers. Instead, I grip my handkerchief ever tighter between my two hands in an effort to continue practicing decorum. I am then escorted by another guard through the halls of the palace, the only sounds being the tap-click-swish rhythm of my heeled boots and dress train, until we find our way to two more doors matching those of the entryway. The guard stiffly raps twice upon the door, then pulls it open and bowing to me as I begin walking through the doorway.

As I approach the empty throne, a door to the side of the thrones opens and a guard steps into the room.

“Lady Clemente, his highness King Kenric has requested I accompany you to his private study for your interview,” he says warmly.

“I was under the impression I was here to only give him a synopsis of my business, not be interviewed,” I state as calmly as possible, though I feel my temper flare.

“I’ve requested this meeting in order to ask you some questions regarding your thriving business, Lady Clemente,” a deep voice sounds behind me.

I pause and turn to respond. Standing just behind me is who I can only surmise is the king of our great nation. He is tall, broad, and fit. His strength seems to radiate from him, his muscles straining the threads of his clothing. His cropped dark hair functions as a frame for his handsome face. His nose is perfectly straight, though it bears a small scar from what I assume was once a break. Below his nose rests a pair of perfectly pink lips with a delicious cupid’s bow, parted in an amused smile. This smile causes me to look up into his dark eyes, framed with lashes too long to be on any man as they’d cause women to covet them.

I don’t know why, but the fact that he is so attractive pisses me off even more. “Can we cut to the chase, and you ask me what you want to know most?”

He looks amused at my outburst. I am sure he’s never heard a lady of society speak in such a manner. “Let’s have a seat in my study.” He passes his guard and me and reaches for the handle of a door, pulling it open and bowing slightly to me. So he is a gentleman, it seems.

Hurriedly, I step through the doorway without sparing him a glance. I sit in the chair facing his desk and wait for him to ease his body down into his seat.

“I am afraid, Lady Clemente, that I don’t have just one question to ask. Is there a reason you seem so eager to be out of my presence?” His tone is a strange mixture of amusement and irritation.

“Yes, actually,” I say bluntly. “I should have set sail this morning on one of my ships. I’ve had to push back our schedule due to this meeting.”

“I apologize,” the king says, “though I’m sure that you’ll be able to still receive your full payment.” There it is. I am here because of my wealth as a woman.

“It isn’t about payment, your highness. This trip was of a more personal matter,” I state honestly, without divulging more than I absolutely have to.

“Hm. Well, I guess we will need to find a way to get this finished quickly. To where will you be traveling?” He asks, seemingly thoughtful.

“This trip will be taking us southward, to the coast of Grenaldon,” I state, semi-factually. That is the closest inhabited territory anyway.

“Interesting,” he says. “Do you know who is hired to find the rarest of pieces? Treasures, if you will?”

“Treasure hunters. Explorers. Probably heroes to some.” My tone is quiet, but firm and devoid of emotion.

The king smiles and replies, “On rare occasions, yes, but more often than not, they are pirates.” The king draws out the S in a hiss of disgust.

“Well, I’m sure that there are many professions that fit that description,” I say dismissively. “Let’s get to your questions regarding my business if you please, your highness.”

“It has come to my attention that you have acquired a reputation for finding such items, and for quite a price. Your company has surpassed all others in its wealth, and you’re the sole proprietor. Are you not?”

“I am,” I say and glance at my watch.

“And I see you’ve paid taxes on your income, yet your income itself seems to have little evidence of its origins. Your money seems to just appear, without a soul to have paid you,” he says.

I sit calmly in my seat facing the man. I refuse to utter a word until he asks me an actual question.

“Can you provide such records?” He taps his fingers on the edge of his desk and rocks back in his chair before leaning on his elbows. It seems he feels that he has me cornered. Silly man!

“Yes, your highness. I can produce such records, but I choose not to as many wish to keep their identities to themselves. You know how it goes; many men feel emasculated to have to pay a woman to do a job that they were unable to perform themselves. They wish to keep their identities hidden to avoid the embarrassment of working with a woman. I am sure you understand, your highness.” Again, I glance at my watch.

“Am I delaying you so greatly, Lady Clemente?” He asks, a ghost of a smile dawning on his face.

I remain placid. “Honestly, yes. I would’ve preferred to already be at sea.”

“To the coast of Grenaldon?”

“Yes”

“And how many nights will you be staying there?” He asks, looking at a paper on his desk.

“No more than two, your highness. I need to return quickly,” I confess.

“Then we will continue this questioning aboard your ship, Lady Clemente. I need to lay eyes upon King Edgar in Grenaldon and collect his signature upon trade agreements. I’ll take the journey aboard your vessel, and we shall return hastily,” he says with finality.

“Your highness, my ship is not one for comfort, nor is it even a passenger ship. My vessel is for business alone and sleeps only me and my crew,” I assert, praying he drops this ridiculous request…rather, command.

“You’ll find, Lady Clemente, that I’m not as soft as you believe me to be,” he insists.

“I don’t have the time to await your packing of a suitcase,” I persist.

He smiles broadly. If I were a weaker woman, I might even swoon at the beauty, but weak I am not. “I guess we are both fortunate that I packed my luggage yesterday then. Shall we take your carriage? Or would you prefer mine?” He stands and holds out his hand to help me to stand.

“But I’ve no room for you, or your guards!”

“I travel light, my lady, and I will be bringing no guards. My bag is just outside this door. If you wish to be at sea, I suggest we leave immediately.” He c***s a half smile.

My mind races. This is not at all what I had expected to happen. I expected he either suspected piracy, or was wanting to absorb my company as a national enterprise. To think that the king himself would be insisting he travel on my ship with me would’ve been ludacris! And my real reason for being near the coast of Grenaldon is far too important to abandon. The man has given me no other option, and I would risk my life time and again for the goal of this journey. My heart races as I realize what I have to do. I have to technically k!dn@p the king of the largest country in the world!

***

The carriage ride was one of the most uncomfortable I’ve ever suffered through. First, the late morning heat made my layered clothing miserably hot. If I had been alone, I would have shed most of the clothing as I had planned. Second, the discomfort of being smashed into the close confines of the carriage with the king made for a rather awkward silence. I spent the majority of the ride peering out my window, doing my best to ignore the other party. Now, I am leading the king through the harbor to my heavily armed Man of War, or as I joke, Woman of War.

“Marisol!” The voice of my first mate rings through the air, and I see him standing on deck with his arm outstretched in greeting.

“Are we ready to set sail, Miguel?” I holler up to him as I climb the gangplank. As I reach the deck, I notice that the king is no longer close behind me. I look down and see him picking up pineapples that were spilled from a shipping box. I call out to him, “You should be more careful. Captain Furlough lost six of his crew this past run!”

“Who is this man you’ve brought along with you?” Miguel asks, his face twisted with concern.

I can’t help but groan. “It’s the damned king, Miguel. He insisted upon us bringing him to the coast of Grenaldon.”

“But we aren’t going to Grenaldon,” he says concernedly.

“I know that!” I snap at him, then draw a deep breath to calm myself. “I’ve considered dropping him off there, then picking him up once we find it, but I don’t think we can spare that kind of time. I fear it may be too late already.” My eyes burn as tears fill my lower eyelids. I take another deep breath and close my eyes, doing my best to tuck my emotions back in where they cannot be used against me.

“You know where our loyalty lies, Cap’n. If you believe there is no more time, then we’ll set sail with him aboard, and each of us will have your back,” Miguel vows to me.

“No, Miguel. As long as I find the stone and get it back in time, I will be the one to receive the charges of k!dn@pping the king myself. This is my choice. I will not let them hang any of you when you did not make the decision.”

Just then, the king steps aboard my ship. His eyes roam the deck, taking in his surroundings. He then turns his eyes to Miguel and me.

Cheerily, he reaches his hand out to Miguel in greeting, “Captain!’

Miguel bursts out in full body laughter as I shake my head. “Me? A cap’n?” He laughs again, this time slapping the back of my shoulder with his hand as though I were in on the best joke he’d ever heard. “This is our cap’n! Marisol Clemente, Cap’n of the Christa Bleue! She’s old salt, too. No other is as true a cap’n no matter where you look. Even her name means sea and sun!”

“You?” He asks, his eyes blown wide. “You’re the captain?”

“Aye, and if you know nothing of sailing, I’d suggest staying off my deck. My men need to be readying us to put to sea.” I walk across the deck and grab my whistle. I blow, and my crew find their way to stand before me, and Dante, my small dragon companion, flies to perch across my shoulders. “Let it be known that King Kenric Realand of Gaeldom has commanded us to allow him passage aboard our vessel during this journey. I take full responsibility for him. If anything is to happen to the king, may it be my head upon which the ax falls! Now, any man needing to stay behind, take the gangplank now. Those who remain, ready the ship. We'll be putting out post haste!”

I stand firm and watch my crew as the reality of our situation dawns on them. After a minute or so, Miguel steps forward, “Your crew, Cap’n!” A wave of heads bowing to me shows where their loyalties lie.

“The honor is mine,” I call out. “Stow the gangplank, and let us depart!” My crew disperse quickly, each performing his duty efficiently.

“Your men are loyal,” King Kenric observes, his tone showing what I interpret as respect and surprise, but his wary eyes never leave Dante, causing me to smirk.

“That they are! I couldn’t wish for a better crew,” I say as I head toward my quarters. “Miguel, handle the crew. I need to go to my quarters for a while. Inform me once we pass the Gaeldom territory into maritime waters.”

“Aye, cap’n!”

“King Kenric,” I say, turning to make eye contact with him. “You may use my seat on deck over there. If you feel a need to vomit, be sure to do so over the side of the ship. We will be moving fast, and the waters will be rough. I am afraid this will be a different ride than what you are used to. We are not a passenger vessel.”

I turn back and enter my chambers. Finally, I am able to rid myself of this torturous dress and silly boots!

***

“Cap’n, we’ve passed into maritime,” Miguel says, his head peering into my chambers from around the door.

“Thank you! I will be right out. And what of the king?” I ask.

“Aye,” Miguel chuckles, “he’s only chummed the waters twice so far.”

I laugh a bit. I knew full well his highness’ royal ass had never experienced a ship like this.

“I was wondering if you had planned on staying in that dress. The first wave to wet it, and it would drag you to the drink!”

“Aye. One of the many reasons I never dress in such things aboard ship!”

As I arrive on deck, I am greeted by the nods of my crewmen. I make my way to the helm and take the wheel. I know we must be nearing the Macabre Islands. I see King Kenric stand from sitting on the deck against the starboard side. He makes his way over to me, eying my clothing as though I were a buffet and he was a starved man.

“I can’t say I expected you to not dress as a lady,” his rough voice even more gravelly after being sick.

“You wouldn’t expect me to wear clothing that would hinder my movement or my ability to swim, would you?” I ask sharply. “That dress is a liability.”

“And you are comfortable with your crew seeing you like this?” He asks. Funny, he is not asking if I am comfortable with him seeing me this way!

“Aye,” I answer. “My crew would each willingly die in my service; not one of my men would look at me as anything other than their captain. Look for yourself!” I wave my arm out, directing his gaze to my crew. He looks and sees not a single pair of eyes cast in my direction, not a single lustful gaze. He smiles gently and nods.

“I stand in awe of your command once more, Captain Clemente,” he says, his words cementing my confidence even more.

“Sail, ho!” One of my crewmen calls out from the crow’s nest.

I snatch my telescope and look for the other ship. In no way am I surprised that it is Graven’s ship. He was the kind of man that gave pirates bad reputations. A thief to the core, he willingly steals everything from a child’s toy to the lives of men.

“We’ll head for the islands! His ship is three decks deep, too heavy and wide to make it over the Devil’s Spine!” I call out to my crew.

“What’s going on?” King Kenric asks, obviously out of the loop.

“We are being followed,” I mutter to him as my crew scatters to prepare our ship for the narrow, shallow passage.

“By whom?” He asks.

I toss him my telescope and wait for the Jolly Roger flag to register in his mind before I tell him. “Graven Harless.”

“How do you know who it is? That could be any pirate. I thought Gravin Harless was a businessman!” I could see him working something out in his mind.

“Graven Harless is the scourge of the seven seas! He is a no-good thief, a filthy scoundrel if ever I met one!” I snap, pulling the wheel to head southeast to the islands. “And I know it’s his ship because of the jack he’s hoisted below the Jolly Roger.”

“Why would he follow us? And what is the Devil’s Spine?” The King asks wildly. While I applaud educating others, his questions are currently grating my patience.

“He is tailing us to either steal my ship or something aboard my ship. I wouldn’t put it past him to want your life, your highness,” I say gravely, making eye contact with the man to set my point. “The Devil’s Spine is a run of pointed rocks below the ocean’s surface between the Macabre Islands. A heavy ship is gutted by them, and many ships have met their fate because of them. We will cross over the spine and make a turn between them, where Graven cannot see as he’ll be sailing around them and the islands’ mountainous peaks will obstruct his view. He is not stupid enough to follow. Arrogant and entitled, but not stupid.”

“What can I do to help?” He asks, squaring his shoulders and jutting his chin upward, his jaw set.

“Quivner, please take the king to the magazine and set him up at a gun port, just in case we come to blows,” I command as the islands appear on the horizon.

“Full sail!” I yell to my crew and watch as they spring into action. Dante, switches his position on my shoulders and wraps his tail around my left arm. He warms the flames within his chest, which heat the back of my neck in a calming way. Graven has yet to outwit me in the water, and he certainly will not this time!