Howel Davis (Post 8)

They would not let me into the hold of the ship. Taylor was fairly clear on the matter, saying, “If you go into the hold, it’ll be as a prisoner, not a sailor, you worthless little shit. I have half a mind to lock you up too, pirate buggerer that you are.”

I was sick of being afraid. I was angry – no, furious – and wanted nothing more than to punch Taylor’s sallow face myself. I retorted, “At least I’m not a sniveling coward.” That earned me a vicious smack to the side of the face, which sent the sailors into uproarious laughter and left me with a bruised cheek.

Without Davis to defend me, the abuse at the hands of the crew got worse. The pranks became increasingly malicious, and I found myself spending much of my time scrubbing the deck quietly, trying my best not to invite harassment. After a week and a black eye, I began to think I’d reached the end of my rope. I feared the worst for Davis – the slaves, although shackled, had been allowed to come on deck for brief periods. They’d been given food and drink to keep them alive. But Davis’ health was of no concern to Ned Taylor and his crew. They granted Davis the very minimum, if anything at all.

Then, one of the guards, a shifty-eyed sailor named Wetherly, agreed to let me into the hold. I had to bribe him, of course. It had been easier than I’d thought. Noticing that he was quite the alcoholic, I agreed to give Wetherly a bottle of port I’d stolen from the captain’s cabin if, in return, he would let me sneak into the hold with food and water for Davis.

The night was pitch black as I crept to the hatch, clutching a bottle of ale, some salt beef and cheese. I saw Wetherly emerge from the hold, looking nervously around. He motioned to me and, as I began to descend, a hand clamped around my arm and spun me around, causing me to drop the items I had been hugging under my jacket. Jack Blaine’s face was dark save his eyes and teeth, which glistened by moonlight menacingly. “Well, well, seems we have a thief in our midst,” he said, and the shadows behind him rose up and rustled and murmured. A lantern was lit, and I saw the crew, their faces accusing as they stood behind Blaine. Ned Taylor stood casually on the quarterdeck, looking triumphant.

They’d known of my plan.

Wetherly was grabbed by a couple of the crew and began blubbering, “’Twas the lad who thought of it, ‘pon my soul! I’d never meant to – ”

“We’ll deal with you in a minute,” Taylor snapped at Wetherly, turning to look fixedly at me, a sinister smile on his face. “I think our little pirate friend needs a good lesson from the cat, what think you, Blaine?”

Blaine laughed. “Aye, Cap’n, I believe he does!” He yanked my jacket from my body as the crew urged him on, some of them scowling, others grinning diabolically. He knocked the hat from my head, causing my hair to slip from the thong that bound it.  Black locks of hair whipped about my face as Blaine grabbed my shirt and tore it, pulling it from me. I wrapped my arms around my bare torso and hunched over, trying to hide my tightly bound breasts – to no avail. The crew gasped collectively.

“Bleed me!” Blaine cried, his eyes wide with shock. Taylor stood very still, his pale countenance even paler than usual. For what felt like an eternity, I hugged myself against the lashing of the wind, my face hidden in my hair, listening for someone to break the agonizing silence.

Blaine acted first. He slung my jacket around my shoulders and said to Taylor, “Cap’n, if I may have a word with ye.”

For a second Taylor didn’t move, then he nodded briskly and said, “Bring the woman into my cabin.”

I walked into the cabin behind Taylor, followed by Blaine. I sat on a chair, holding the jacket tightly across my chest and looking boldly into the faces of the two men. Both men had been shocked by the revelation that I was a woman, but Blaine had recovered much quicker than Taylor. Taylor still looked stunned and confused, while Blaine’s eyes had lit up, the wheels turning.

When Taylor didn’t speak, Blaine ventured, “What are ye called, lass?”

I gazed at him warily. I hadn’t thought of a Plan B in case my sex was discovered. Surely there’d be no harm in telling them my name. “Sabrina,” I replied.

“Goddamn my soul!” Blaine whispered, the color draining from his face.

I stared at Blaine, alarmed. Clearly, he’d heard my name before. Taylor looked at Blaine as well and asked, “You know this woman, Blaine?”

Blaine was quick to regain his composure. “Nay, Cap’n. I’d heard of a woman named Sabrina who sailed with pirates, is all.”

My eyes were glued to Blaine’s face. How could he have heard about me? From the doctor? But the doctor didn’t know my name. Maybe the doctor heard England call me by name? Even if that were the case, it was obvious that Blaine did not make the connection between the boy Will and the woman Sabrina until just now. But why had Blaine been so shocked? And why was there a hint of fear in his eyes? There was something I was missing, something I wasn’t grasping.

“This…is an interesting development,” Taylor said, approaching me slowly. “What were you doing with the pirates?”

I stammered, “They… rescued me.”

Taylor looked skeptical. “The pirates rescued you?”

“Yes.”

The men exchanged looks. In a voice that was coldly polite, Taylor said, “Pray, indulge us.”

I took a deep breath. “They found me floating in the sea near New Providence. I don’t remember anything prior to that.”

Blaine spoke up. “Why did they give ye away?”

I looked down. “Because I was becoming… a burden.”  I added, “England knew someone who would help me once in Barbados.”

Taylor’s mouth tightened. “You’ve stolen from me,” he said.

I scowled at him. “Howel Davis is the only person on this ship who’s been kind to me. I was trying to return the favor.”

Taylor smiled. “I assure you, had we known you were a woman, we would have been much more… accommodating.”

I didn’t like the tone of his voice, and I found myself squirming away from him in my seat. Blaine apparently didn’t like it either, because he said, “If I may, Cap’n, I say we make sure the lass is not dishonored the rest of this voyage. Who knows what sort ‘o trouble that would get us in.” There was just a hint of a threat in his words, but neither Taylor nor I missed it.

“Of course,” Taylor replied hastily, wiping his palms on his breeches. I glanced between the men,  suddenly understanding the dynamics of their relationship: Taylor feared Blaine, and Blaine used this to his advantage. Jack Blaine was, for all practical purposes, captain of the Cadogan. And for some reason, Blaine was protecting me from Taylor.

I didn’t like this one bit.

“Please,” I said, looking from Blaine to Taylor. “Spare Davis. He’s a good man. He’s…” I stopped, seeing the amusement on Blaine’s face and the spite on Taylor’s.

Blaine grinned, uninspired by my pleas. “The lass fancies that cockerel Davies!”

Taylor’s nostrils flared, his hatred for Davis blazing in his face. “Davis will pay for — ”

“For what?” I cried. “For stealing your girl? Or for being better than you — all of you — put together?”

For a split second, I thought Taylor would strike me. Then Blaine stood between us, saying, “Yer anger is misplaced, Cap’n. Mind ye, she’s just a woman.”

Just a woman.

As Blaine led me out of the cabin, I shuddered. Oh, God… Had I made things worse for Davis? Why hadn’t I just kept my pie-hole shut?

Blaine handed me my torn shirt, his eyes coldly appraising me. “Sabrina, the Charmed Woman, is it?”

I stared. “What?”

“Blaine, what’ll we do with Wetherly?” a sailor asked him, interrupting us.

Blaine looked at me for a moment longer, saying under his breath, “I’m not done with you.” Then turned to deal with the crew and the blubbering Wetherly.

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