Pierced by the Pirate

By Albin Baecker

In the aftermath of a ferocious tempest off the Cape of Storms in 1856 an aristocratic woman rescued by a band of unruly privateers means only two things: ransom or pleasure. And when the feisty hostage refuses to divulge her identity they become restless...if payment is not forthcoming the salacious sailors will apply the code of the sea to claim the mystery woman for themselves. Her only hope is the courteous leader of this motley crew, but he already has problems...

Captain Rodger Selbourne’s ship was damaged on a secret voyage and mutiny looms. With no time to lose the single-minded captain needs his men and, sold or used, the mystery woman is his only solution to keeping Hunter on course. But thrown together with the feisty female in this remote spot Selbourne becomes intrigued by the alluring newcomer. Her presence not only threatens his increasingly slipping self-control and courteous conduct but also puts his personal quest for vengeance at risk...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Albin Baecker
• Release date: Jun 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476122281

Albin Baecker

The Scottish writer Albin Baecker likes travel, adventure, fine dining and music. Most of all, he enjoys people and the good company of friends. Although Baecker has published over forty international patents and numerous articles in the mainstream scientific press, this is his first fictional work.

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PIERCED BY THE PIRATE

by

Albin Baecker

Copyright 2012 Albin Baecker

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design: Timothy Khoury

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CHAPTER 1

The clipper shuddered through the last of the furious waves that strived to hurl her onto the rocks at the exit from the deadly strait of roaring sea. Miraculously Hunter stayed her course. The groaning men that held the wheel steady kept their eyes fixed on the lookout tied in the prow. Instant death churned to port and starboard but all eyes focussed forward with glaring intensity until the frantic signal came.

Hard starboard! Hard to starboard!

The lad’s cries swept away on the wind but the four helmsmen reacted immediately to his hand signals. They heaved the great oaken disc that turned the rudder and an agonising tremor shivered every plank in the ship as she crested the final wave. Then, almost paradoxically, she wilted into the spume of the channel’s outlet and slipped into the swirling open sea at last.

From the swaying bridge of his beloved ship Captain Rodger Selbourne surveyed the damage suffered over the three days taken to navigate the most notorious maelstrom of sea and storm on earth. The tempest had shredded the superstructure but he suspected the ship remained sound. He glanced at the heavy clouds to judge the wind before he turned his eyes to the exhausted men staring at him from the deck. He thought of what brought them to this fearful spot at the southernmost tip of the world. He assuaged his anger by telling the crew that ripped sails and torn rigging was small exchange for being alive.

The men only muttered among themselves and again Selbourne thought of the wretch below decks who had put them in this mess. Then he remembered the woman in his stateroom and had a brainwave. He turned to the man beside him.

Mr. Mate, steer for open water to conduct repairs. Send below to check for leaks. Look sharp.

Selbourne rapped on the door and entered his living quarters for the first time in forty hours. His sense of purpose was distracted however when he scented the feminine fragrances that now permeated his space. She looked up from the charts on his desk. The ceiling was six feet above the floor but her tousled hair almost touched it when she rose from his chair.

Captain, my clothes have dried but they are torn and full of salt. Now that we seem to be in safer waters I will need a change of clothing while you have mine washed and repaired.

The exhausted mariner merely stared at her. When she raised her eyebrows questioningly at him he began to wonder if shock prevented her from realising her predicament.

And I will need a hairbrush and soap and water.

Selbourne studied the magnificent velvet gown and found himself estimating its value. The diamond that sparkled on the woman’s breast confirmed his opinion. He pondered the fact that she did not countenance sewing torn sleeves herself. He decided to be brief and promptly closed his mind to her spectacular demeanour.

Where do you think you are, madam? You’ve had three days to consider your position. Do you still refuse to identify yourself?

The woman stared back in defiant silence.

Very well. He leaned through the doorway and shouted, Mr. Mate, assemble the crew. And melt some tar! Turning back to her he said curtly, Walk with me.

Selbourne snapped his fingers and nodded at the steps to the bridge.

Up, if you please.

Irritation nagged him when he realised he was appraising more than the royal blue gown that rustled inches from his face when he climbed behind her. To his further annoyance he then found himself inhaling deeply through his nostrils to fill his lungs with her scent as he mounted the final steps. He was relieved to reach the vantage point and look down at his men again.

"Men, you’ve suffered for three days but stood it in good heart. We’ve not lost a soul but Hunter is wounded. Our wardrobe of sails is empty. He smiled and pointed above. But repairing those ones makes for an easy week ahead!"

What about the woman, Captain? Who is she?

She’s mine, snarled the deckhand melting tar. I saw her first and rules is rules.

Selbourne glanced at the woman. Confusion flowed in her eyes and he felt his plan was working. But he knew he must retain control.

Men, we have prior business...the case of that rogue below decks predates the lady. He looked at Ben Carver and formalised the order. Mr. Mate, have him raised and lashed to the mainmast."

While the struggling man was duly immobilised Carver drew a stiletto and tested its point.

Mr. Mate, lay the charges first.

Men, here we have the lowest slug from the deepest ocean. He’s insulted us all...gravely. You know the Caphorniers’ Code! Carver paused while the assembly swore and spat on the accused. He then continued with, Well, the past three days have made you all Caphorniers for sure, and what’s more, you’re the elite ones! You’ve rounded the Cape of Storms the wrong way!

A seaman dipping his pigtail in the bucket of tar looked at the bridge.

When will we be told why we did that? he shouted. Why have we sailed westward? Against current and wind! The prize ships are to the east!

Prior business, Selbourne retorted, Mr. Mate, keep order and do your duty.

Carver clinked a ring in the prisoner’s left ear with the tip of his knife.

Rogue, you dangle that golden hoop from your earlobe as claim to have rounded this Cape. He stabbed at the land disappearing below the horizon. You put yourself forward as our pilot for three gold pieces in the Falklands. But all you gave in return was three days of horror. Turning to the crew he roared, What did he do lads?

Near killed us!

Aye, continued Carver, but you were exposed in the first hour! You near grounded us on the very Cape Horn you claim to know, you vile impostor. You know the punishment for wearing that ring under false pretences. What say you?

It’s in my left ear! The man thrust the left side of his face forward. The ring says my left ear was landwards...I was sailing east when I rounded the Cape of Storms.

But it was a futile defense and every man on deck knew it.

You’d never seen the Cape, neither eastward nor westward. That was clear when you nearly put these souls onto it. You know the punishment! What else say you?

The accused had been pinioned throughout his confinement to prevent him from removing the incriminating ring. He indeed knew the punishment for the false declaration it now symbolised.

I’ve had three days of terror myself, he cried. If the ship had foundered I was drowned! Hands tied and sent to meet Davy Jones locked in a biscuit chest for a coffin!

Selbourne looked at the woman and whispered, You see how I considered your safety? That is why you were not locked in while we rounded the Horn. Had we foundered you were free to swim back to wherever you came from.

Carver suddenly reached out and ripped the ring from the prisoner’s earlobe. He shook his head and screamed in agony while the crew laughed and dodged the spurts of blood.

The woman gasped. She shuddered when Carver daubed molten tar on the man’s wound. Selbourne called out, Very good, Mr. Mate. Proceed. Pierce him!

Two men held the prisoner’s ear against the mast while they sheltered behind it. Carver reversed twelve paces and raised the stiletto to throw. Selbourne turned to the woman.

He’s aiming for the top of the ear, but if he kills his man by mistake it’s considered fair justice.

The woman staggered but Selbourne caught her waist. The feel of her firm flesh under the texture of soft velvet unsettled him and he frowned.

Well, my lady, he growled, in further courtesy to you, we’ll use this. He removed the glittering brooch from her gown and shouted to Carver as he threw it, Use this. And send for a bottle.

Carver admired the gemstone while they waited. He turned to the prisoner, Never thought you’d get stuck with a diamond pin, did you?

When the bottle arrived Carver drew its cork and dipped the pin in the brandy. He held the cork behind the top of the prisoner’s ear and pierced it. He twisted the golden hoop to make it hang upside down.

You now wear the badge you craved.

Ignoring the man’s relieved sniggering Carver addressed the crew. "Every man Jack aboard can do likewise! These three days mark your title to bear...for westward passage against wind and sea...the inverted hoop of the Caphornier at the tops of your left ears."

Selbourne permitted the crew to pass the brandy. He escorted the woman back to his quarters and signalled Carver to follow. He foresaw deep trouble if she maintained her refusal to divulge her identity.

***

She watched Selbourne stand by his chair while Carver fetched two more from the wide window that crossed the back of the stateroom behind his desk. She noted he almost had to stoop while he waited for her to be seated and recalled from the bridge that he was an inch or two taller than she. His shoulder length black hair was tied back but well groomed and she knew there was a hairbrush somewhere. She wondered why she failed to find it while he was fighting the passage around the Cape.

Madam, he said when Carver took his seat at the side of the desk, we are less formal when alone in here. He turned to the man and announced, Allow me to introduce Mr. Benjamin Carver. He is my second in command so that is Mr. Carver to you. And naturally, I have been courteous enough to introduce myself previously. He pointed at a gilt visiting card lying on his charts and pushed it across the desk to her before he took his own seat.

She felt slightly unnerved by his easy self-assurance because every feminine instinct in her body told her he was acting. And if this was indeed an act, her first impressions three days ago were also correct...her life depended on maintaining incognito status while assessing the developments accurately. She scrutinised the card to prevent her eyes from betraying her suspicions. Meanwhile, Selbourne asked Carver to bring glasses and a ship’s decanter from a locker near the door.

She unleashed her attack. Thank you, Captain Selbourne, but your card tells me nothing apart from your name. Now, who is your owner? I demand to be put into the nearest port!

Selbourne bit his lip and watched Carver fill the glasses. He raised the one nearest him, looked at the woman and nodded at the glass before her. She ignored the invitation.

Madam, nobody owns me. In contrast, he said ominously, you are aboard my ship. And that card you finger so disdainfully gives you more than you have given me, yet for three days and nights you have been my guest!

But Captain Selbourne, I can see you are only thirty...how can you be the owner of this ship?

"That is none of your business. And let me help you...my name is correctly pronounced Seaborne."

She subdued a smile on rattling the man. She knew exactly how to pronounce his surname, but her trick had worked.

A very apt name, I’m sure. Well Captain, what is your business? What is your cargo? You must be under charter and I demand you send word of me to your principals.

Selbourne and Carver looked at each other.

What word must we send? You will need to identify yourself before we can oblige you in that department. Therefore, who are you?

I cannot tell you until we are in contact with your principals.

Selbourne looked stern. Cannot, or will not? Madam, we have no principals. Think of us as self-employed. And, in answer to your previous demand, the nearest port where we are headed is the last place on earth you would wish to find yourself.

Her fears mounted. But what is your business?

Varied, he said dismissively. Would it help if I suggest that you should perhaps think of us more specifically as independent seamen open to offers from all points of the compass?

Her sense of unease deepened.

Now, he continued, we plucked you from a barrel floating off the southern tip of the Americas. You were sailing east in the passage before we entered it headed west, otherwise we would have sighted your ship. She was surely wrecked by the storm before we sailed into it. Her name was?

She knew she could not answer. I am fainting from hunger, I cannot think clearly.

Selbourne shrugged. He offered Carver a cigar from a cedar wood chest and remarked, She’s a fancy one, eh Ben? How old do you think she is, twenty eight, thirty?

Around about that, Cap’n.

Do not dare to discuss me in my presence! Almost whimsically she added, And I will thank you not to light those foul things either.

Miss... said Carver as he looked at the rings on her fingers, ...or surely it is Mrs? If it is the latter your husband must be worried about you?

Her hands clenched involuntarily. She could not answer. But mention of the rings reminded her of the brooch. She extended her palm to Carver.

And I will also thank you for the return of my diamond.

Selbourne nodded to Carver and lit his cigar while the other man searched his waistcoat pocket. The woman relaxed when she noted Selbourne using the smoke to conceal his inappropriate gaze as she repositioned the brooch on the breast of the low cut gown. She sat back and sniffed at the smoke. She took care to affect a disgusted air but the reality was that she rather liked the smell of cigars. The emotion she did most to conceal however was her absolute relief that the smoke would mask the olfactory effects of her unwashed state.

Very well then, said Selbourne when the cigars were burning evenly, your parents? Who are they? You are obviously English...where does your family sit?

The images brought to mind made her begin to fear that she would lose her resolve. She forced herself to think of the recent events on deck, events which had only increased her suspicion that telling the truth would be the biggest mistake she could make. She decided to test her theory while deflecting the question.

What did that obnoxious man mean when he said I belong to him?

He saw you first, he claims you, replied Selbourne immediately. He turned to his adjudicator.

Aye, rules is rules, added Carver, but it’s more complicated than that. That mate of his with the tarry pigtail was first to throw you a line. That gives him a very strong claim. And then there’s all the others who leapt to help pull you aboard...we could have a right battle over this.

Surely, Captain, you will not allow such indiscipline to prevail on your ship!

You are safely ensconced in my quarters are you not? But you saw the men, they are unhappy. We have had a lean time of it recently.

What is your problem? What have I to do with your ‘lean time’ as you put it?

Selbourne nodded to Carver who cleared his throat and leaned forward conspiratorially.

Perhaps this will help...rather than ‘independent seamen’ it might assist your reasoning if you thought of us as privateers.

Silence prevailed.

And here you are in our private care. Requiring, as it were, safe passage to somewhere?

Now, interjected Selbourne, how can I calculate our fee for your...continued...safety if you refuse to identify yourself? I cannot help you if you will not indicate your worth. He slammed the desk. Who are you? And the fee remains worthless until you disclose to whom I should send it!

A fee? You mean ransom! She trembled as she heard herself articulate the word. Then she pleaded, You are obligated to protect me. You are Captain and owner of this ship!

Madam, surely you noticed the men are verging on mutiny.

She momentarily wondered if this news could be used to help her escape, or even take control of the ship, but she quickly dismissed such options as too dangerous. She would be at the mercy of the crew.

And the promise of our...fee...will forestall that. But, I repeat, how can I even lodge it if you refuse to identify yourself? Your silence totally prevents me from knowing where to redeem...or to submit...my claim for your continued safety!

She made a final effort, You have no claim on me!

Very well, he said abruptly, please be informed that if you are not ransomed, you belong to the man who first sighted you. And after he has used you he will sell you throughout the crew!

Then throw me back into the sea! You offer a fate worse than death! Let me die in the ocean!

Selbourne replied bluntly, That will not help me keep order on this ship.

Her worst fear was realised at last.

So I was right! You pretend that your favourite word is ‘courtesy’ but you would use me to pacify your undisciplined crew?

She did not see him cringe because Selbourne turned to look at the darkening sky. But his next words shocked her to the core.

Ben, sling a hammock in here and have food sent.

Aye, aye Cap’n.

And give the men an extra ration of rum before they turn in.

The woman’s quick mind was racing but Selbourne’s final statement devastated her thoughts. Trying to gather her wits she almost lost hope when he held out his hand and smiled.

Now, give me those rings please. I will study your family crest while you reconsider your position.

***

Selbourne did not take any of the heavily spiced food from the dishes at the centre of his desk. Instead he pretended to ignore his companion while she ate in stony silence. But he kept one eye on her anxious face for hints while he slowly turned the pages of several books spread across his own side of the desk. His library contained five on heraldry and insignia from which he could identify any ship on any horizon he scanned. One book of etchings illustrated the coat of arms of every family in Europe that traced its ancestry back five hundred years. None showed the crest borne on the signet ring that glinted under the candelabra among the porcelain.

He examined the ring with a magnifying glass. The image was an upright shield with a standing bear leaning on its left corner and an archer leaning on the right. He was sure the lens revealed the bowman was smiling. Apart from the high value set by the quality of the emeralds, rubies and diamonds in the other rings Selbourne deciphered no other clue to the woman’s background.

Carver tested the hooks a seaman screwed into the central ceiling beam, told him to carry the used plates, and bid the pair goodnight. Selbourne nodded and closed the books.

Captain, you do not intend to sleep in that hammock in this cabin while I am here, do you?

He replied wearily, This is my stateroom. I need my bunk after three days on deck. The hammock is yours.

She looked angry, but changed the subject.

Where is the hairbrush in this room? she asked. Please?

He withdrew an ivory comb from an inside pocket and gestured with it toward the shaving mirror across the room. As he stood to hand it over he commented, Do not ask me to do it for you.

I certainly would not. And I will thank you to turn your back.

Selbourne selected some food then sat back with his feet on the desk and watched her untangling her hair while he ate. It began to reflect the candlelight with warm hues, neither blonde nor red, and he wondered what colour would correctly describe it. He considered her pale skin and decided she was a redhead. Their eyes met in the mirror and he forced his mind back to his immediate problems.

His prime objective remained. Hunter would be repaired and kept on course. But there were indeed elements of insurrection among the crewmen. It almost surfaced when he deprived them of the sport with Carver’s stiletto, and he knew they accepted his amendment of the tradition only because they guessed he would let them drink the brandy. He wondered if Carver’s stiletto protruding from the prisoner’s neck would have been more effective in shocking the woman into answering his questions.

Who is her husband? He knew she was younger than the age he failed to provoke her with earlier, but she was still beyond the twenty two years that saw most women of her status married off.

Or does the crest belong to her family? He felt no guilt over the ransom. It merely represented the reward for her rescue. But why would she rather die?

Selbourne again began to wonder where she had sailed from. She could have been in the Far East, perhaps China or Indonesia. He knew gold had been discovered in Australia but did not imagine women like she could have any reason to be in such a place.

Captain Selbourne, I need my soap and water.

He stood up and retrieved his comb.

Madam, apart from the superstitions, one of the more logical reasons women are unwelcome at sea is their continual excessive demand for fresh water.

What do you mean?

He pointed through the window.

Can you drink that? Fresh water is life out here, and none can be wasted on the things that women do with it.

Do not waste your sarcasm on me Captain. I know that you men bathe by strolling naked on deck when it rains. I need water, in this room, tonight!

In fact, madam, you do not. Will you be dead tomorrow if your person remains unwashed?

Silence.

ln contrast, we may all start dying of thirst tonight if I accede to your demand.

But the rainwater!

Selbourne smiled, Tell me who you are and I will give you your own keg to collect water from the sails when it next rains. He glanced at the dark sky. Perhaps tomorrow morning...

I want fresh water tonight!

He ignored her interruption and continued, ...although I do not expect the sails to be repaired for several days.

We shall see, she said slowly. She looked at a cupboard beside the window, I need to use your...private ablutions?

Ah yes, and I presume you had the grace to empty the receptacle each time you used it over the past three days?

Is she blushing? He could not be sure.

I know how to open a window Captain.

Now you are sarcastic, he said angrily. Be in the hammock in ten minutes.

Lighting a cigar he stepped outside and closed the door. It is summer here but she would still have died of cold within half an hour if we had not saved her. Ungrateful hussy!

A loud bump made Selbourne frown. He flicked the cigar overboard and re-entered to see the woman sprawled beneath the hammock. She arose quickly and stood glaring at him. Reticent to handle another man’s wife he placed a stool on one